Hot Headed

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
"I'm here to check..."
Inhale, inhale
"a patient"

and a shaken pale hand

barely lifting out of the heaviest down jacket

by the world's worst puppeteer

s     

  l  

     i

           d

two plastic cards under the glass

"what are your symptoms?"

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, exhale, 

"Nothing but...

a fever and

p  a  i  n  s

from the neck d

                       o

                       w

                       n

my neck to my hips."

Thump.

Sand. Bags. SLAMMED

against the lower eyelids.

and a million stage hands

r      u        s            h                 e                      d

to the rescue.

"Come on back,

Let me check your vitals.

Can you verify some information?"

no. i cant.

"Are you cold?"

In

Inha

exhale

Inhale

Sweetness like the only

water source

in all of the Sahara

melting along the scolding surface

of my forehead.

"you're at 102"

"Anastasia, are you ready?"

Three days. Three days of a fever over a hundred. And an addition three days of fevers to follow. In that time period, I had a lot to think about. When I was thinking, I realized I was rather hotheaded. 

My first clue came at 3 in the morning after 5 vials blood, a strep test, a flu test, a urine test, a liter IV, and steroid injection when the only doctor of the emergency room floor told me the only thing abnormal was my white blood cell count indicating I had the ambiguous case of a virus. The symptoms? A fever. The cure? Time.

I'M SORRY, WHAT? A VIRUS? EXCUSE ME, MY INSIDES ARE BURNING. I'M BECOMING YOU NEXT BREAKFAST OPTION AS LITERALLY MY BODY IS POACHING ME FROM THE INSIDE OUT AND YOU'RE

TELLING ME               

THAT I ONLY HAVE A FUCKING VIRUS?

No. I did not have that answer. I raised hell as high as I could for every doctor in the building to take another look at my urine. Shit, I was ready to pee in every cup if I had to because I was not leaving without something more than time for my cure.

My second clue didn't show up for two days. My second clue called me at 10pm one night asking if I needed anything. To promise to see me the next day. To never call in the first place. But rather, call my mother, drive out of his way an extra 15 miles, to wait patiently at my door, with his car running and seatbelt fasten, for my mother to bring him a check.

Aren't you a man?

Aren't you my father?

Don't you have the least bit of decency to text me and let me know you are busy?

Because what if next time, it isn't just a "fucking virus"?

My third clue waltzed into my work a day before the fever struck. My third clue should have been my precursor clue to all of the clues since this clue was robbing money from under my nose.

"Hey, something is up with my lyft account. Please make sure you aren't using my card"

-Thirty minutes later-

"My charges aren't adding up to my rides"

-One hour later-

"I want to give you the benefit of the doubt"

-One more hour later-

"I've been overdraft twice this month"

-Finally after customer service responded"

"You fucking owe me $2,000!!"

"I tried to tell you."

You never tell someone something postmortem. Especially after over two months of continual behavior. I think I would have left you finish if you start with "I owe you money". I can't read minds. I can't oversee everything. There is no point for me to be a godmother to those of my social class because I want justice. I don't believe in friends because good things don't last

The same sickness Raskolnicov faced in Crime and Punishment was the same sickness I was in. Lord, as though every locust was rattled from the branches, I do not understand what tests I had to overcome or what turn my journey has taken me on to finally be fed up. Greatness. I want greatness. If for a 27th birthday I bought you a pig's head then by all means, I want you to have reservations made for Valentine's Day. Greatness and Grateful. My car has been returned from the status of totaled and I am the Grateful Dead for the twilight zone of ignorantly induced insanity has left me on a permatrip hallucinating that there is still some decency in this world. The same as bringing chicken noodle soup to someone because they are on the way still exists. And I will not back down. I will scream and I will yell but I am human who is genuinely good and I deserve genuinely good. When I ask for water with no ice, I will keep sending it back until it is barely above forty degrees and no ice. When I ask you to see me, I will not lift one finger until I am seen. And when I am upset, I shall throw your party in my honor until you give me a reason to celebrate your name again. And the second the mattress cover moves a centimeter closer towards your limp body, I will flip the blankets and throw down the pillows until your hands run underneath my legs to fix it. Because I am worth it. I am grand, and I am the last living Russian princess.

Hi, Anastasia Romanov, pleasure I am your acquaintance.