I Can't Believe I'm Not Better

I am sitting in my doctor’s office with my daughter on my lap. We’ve both got temperatures and are feeling pretty rotten. My husband is there too, nice enough to drive us. The doctor turns to me with that meaningful look I’ve seen so many times. “How are you doing?”

“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.”