Luanne dragged herself up to the door and pushed the button. The big doors of the clinic swooshed open, and she cautiously made her way in. The receptionist (what was her name?) waved and Luanne plopped heavily into the nearest chair to catch her breath.

“Mrs. Dawson, please check in. You’ll need your ID and insurance card. Sorry. New system”.

The woman smiled at her and her name popped into Luanne’s foggy brain. Ann Marie. That was it. She sat a moment longer then pushed herself out of the chair, her head swimming , and made her way to the new kiosk. She blinked to clear her fuzzy vision then followed the steps and signed in. Just as she sat back down the inner door opened.

“Luanne Dawson?”

“That’s me.”

“We’re ready for you.”

She sighed and the nurse glanced up at her. “You okay?”

“As okay as I ever am.” She didn’t smile when she said it and the nurse stared at her for a long minute and then nodded at her. They walked down the hall that always smelled like antiseptic and she motioned her into the examination room. She handed Luanne a paper gown and weighed her but said nothing to her.

“Please sit and I just need to ask a few questions.”

“I know the routine. Nothing has changed. I still have shortness of breath, insomnia, and dizziness. Yes, I am still taking that antidepressant and no I don’t see any improvement and I don’t want to be here. What’s the damn use of this?”

The nurse sat and laid the clipboard on her lap. “Mrs. Dawson, Luanne, I know you are frustrated but Dr. Hayward…..”

“Just stop right there. When they called me to come in I told them under no uncertain terms would I ever see Dr Hayward again. In my estimation he’s a quack and has no idea what he’s doing and….”

The nurse glared at her. “Dr Hayward is a fine doctor. Just stay there and he’ll be right with you. No one else is here today except him and he knows your history.” She rose and left, closing the door behind her.

Luanne sat on the table, her swollen feet hanging and she felt chilled. She finally stretched out and closed her eyes. She was so tired, always so completely and utterly exhausted.

Her eyes flew open when she heard thd quiet knock on the door before Dr Hayward walked in. He was reading her chart and he sat down next to her but said nothing, just studied her as she lay on the table feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“We have the results of the last tests. It’s why I wanted to see you. Can you sit up for a moment?”

He came over and helped her sit up, and then listened to her heart and sat back down.

“So am I dying?”

“No, you are not dying. In fact, other than your obesity you are pretty healthy.”

“I sure as hell am NOT healthy. Why won’t any of you listen to me! I know there is something terribly…”

“Luanne. Stop. Just wait…”

“Don’t call me Luanne. I told you when you left me to never again use my name.”

“I apologize. Old habits are hard to break. Look. The tests are clear, no sign of any underlying issues but….”

“I’m fat.”

He held her gaze. “You are well beyond the fat stage now. You are morbidly obese and you gained 10 pounds since your last visit.”

They looked at each ofher and Luanne felt a tear roll down her face. She said nothing to him but stood,tore off the paper gown and grabbed her dress. He just sat but she heard him sigh a deep sigh.

“I am sorry. I want to help you but you won’t help yourself. I am transferring you to Dr Tavis in a different clinic. We can’t keep on like this, Luanne. It’s not good for you and most definitely not for me.”

With that, he turned and left. Luanne stepped into her shoes and left the room. She walked by the receptionist but did not acknowledge her, then she made her way to her car and drove home. She felt numb. Laden with grief and despair and when she walked into her cold, quiet house she headed to the kitchen, threw her bag on the counter and plodded over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen cake and a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream. Then she ate. And she ate. She ate until the cake was gone and the ice cream disappeared. She tried to fill the hole inside but as usual it did not work. Food couldn’t block the pain but she kept trying.

This time, though, was different. She cautiously made her way up the stairs, her knees creaking and her breath loud from her effort, and she found the bottle of pills in the bathroom and the bottle of bourbon in her nightstand.

This time she finally filled the misery. This time she dulled the pain. This time she felt

absolutely

nothing.