“No, I’m not here about that.” I quickly change the subject and explain little miss and my symptoms.
We’ve been right to visit. It’s a round of antibiotics for both of us.
But the doctor isn’t finished. “So, how are you doing?”
I’m caught off guard.
This isn’t something I want to talk about today. “Things are fine. Yeah. Well, things are
tough but that’s to be expected. Right?
I mean, she’s little, and there’s the job stuff and being so far from
home like I’ve explained before. Soooo I’m…fine….all
things considered. I’m doing okay.” My
eyes betray me. I can feel them glistening with fresh tears.
My doctor turns to my husband, and asks him how I’m doing. His
apologetic look says it all. “From the
outside, she’s doing fine but she’s really good at masking.” He pauses. “Since
she keeps it all in all day, I see her at her worst.” Another long pause and a
look at the doctor. She answers for him.
“Not well then.”
