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Life of an Inanimate Object: Part X: Doctor's Visit

posted Apr 7, 2017, 6:21 AM by Jeffrey Wolf

By: Megan Cichon, Entertainment Editor

Posted April 7th, 2017


Part X: Doctor's Visit

I watched as the paramedics entered and loaded Galen onto a stretcher. I watched as the police came in and took people's statements. I watched as a police officer picked up Galen’s notebook and started leafing through it. I waited patiently, until a nice police officer picked me up and placed me alongside the notebook in Galen’s backpack. I had never been in a backpack before, and the pencils in there were all spouting gibberish.

“The cube root of 81 is 3...”

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell...”

Those pencils seemed crazy to me, and I couldn't wait to get outta this backpack. I had to put up with them for quite some time though, until I heard a familiar voice: Galen's mother's.

“Here's his backpack,” the police officer began, “how's he doing?”

“The doctors think he has a mild concussion,” the mother explained. “They want to run a few more tests to be sure. He's got a bloody nose.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Is he going to be suspended?” Galen's mother wondered.

“We took statements from the kids who witnessed the fight,” the officer replied, “and we'll also be reviewing footage from the security cameras in there. Once we’ve determined who's at fault, we'll establish appropriate consequences.”

“Mrs. Anderson?” Another voice called. “Ready?”

“Can I have his backpack?” His mother asked.

“Of course,” the officer said, “Have a wonderful day.”

“He's mildly concussed,” the voice, that I assumed belonged to some doctor, began, “but other than that and a bit of a bloody nose, he seems to be quite alright.”

“How long will he be here?” His mother questioned.

I heard a door swing open.

“We’re likely going to keep him here overnight,” the doctor explained. “However, I am going to ask that he doesn’t go to school for the rest of the school week. I want him on bedrest, and no strenuous mental or physical activity.”

“You don’t have to worry about physical activity,” Galen remarked, “I’m not much of an athlete.”

A wave of relief washed over me when I heard Galen’s voice. Even though I’d heard everyone say he’d be okay, I didn’t actually believe it until I’d heard him.

“What about mental activity?” The doctor questioned, “That’ll--”

“Do you consider writing a strenuous mental activity?” Galen interrupted.

“Galen, no writing this week,” his mother pleaded. “We want you to get better.”

“But--”

“Galen,” his mother interrupted, sounding stern, “No. Writing.”

There was a silence for a while, one that was so tense I could feel it from inside the backpack. Then finally, Galen spoke:

“Fine. No writing. But once that week is up...”

“That’s fine,” his mother agreed, “Now, let’s discuss treatment with the doctor.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” the doctor began, “Bed rest, and activities that should be avoided include mental concentration, such as watching T.V., writing, video games, schoolwork, and so forth. Once your symptoms are no longer present, we’ll meet again and discuss how to move forward. Does this sound like a plan?”

“Fine,” Galen grumbled, “I’ll do it.”

He didn’t sound pleased, and I couldn’t blame him. An entire week without using me to write. If you’d ask me, it sounded like the equivalent of torture.


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