He always hated going to the Doctors. If he could avoid Doctors forever he would but he knew that wasn’t a possibility now. He was in desperate need of money and had already done everything he could… last thing waiting for him now was getting his blood drawn. He hated needles, hate seeing blood, hated the sensation, hated how he always cried, hated the wait, hated everything. Yet the amount of money that was given to him for the blood was more than enough for his rent. So in he went to the place he hated most, the doctors office.

Inside, the wait to get his blood drawn was driving him crazy, he almost left; though as soon as he got up to leave, his name was called. <Great> He thought as he followed the nurse to the back. He sat in a chair, he hated how it was always cold, how it made him feel small. He kept quiet and did what he was told. He hated seeing the nurse pull out the materials, hated how even the alcohol wipe felt on his skin. He hated the pressure his arm was being put in, just to get a vain out. He looked away, he didn’t want to see his blood leaving his body, he hated that too. Then… it happened, he felt the whole process and his blood leaving his body. He hated everything. The needle felt like it was getting bigger but now he was used to it. That how he knew the nurse was done taking his blood. Everytime he felt even a little bit comfortable, something rips. This time literally as the nurse accidentally ripped the needle harshly out of him. The nurse apologized and he forgave her quickly but everything he hated somehow was now ten times worse.

He left the nurses office with money in his pockets and one hand hold the arm that was used to take his blood. If there’s one thing made clear on this day. Every visit to the doctors office made him hate the medical industry more.