Just submitted a themed writing to a LinkedIn contest. Here it is if you want to read it. SUSPENSE Deanne hesitated, then sat in the chair with the fewest stains on its seat cover. The clock read 7:43, so there was still time for her to gather her thoughts before her appointment at 8:00. Due to the early hour the waiting room was empty, except for a young dark-haired woman in a light blue uniform slowly swishing a mop from side to side as she backed down the hall. Inhaling sharply through her nose, Deanne crossed and then uncrossed her smoothly shaved legs. She was fidgety, nervous. She grabbed the People magazine with Angelina Jolie on the cover and began to thumb backwards through the pages. She flashed back to Peter’s demeanor as she left the house earlier. No hug. No encouraging words. He was stooped, almost parenthetical in stature, as if he were folding into himself. His eyes avoided hers, and he answered with a barely audible “hmph” when Deanne said, “see you later,” as she hurried out the door. His attitude didn’t surprise her, although she was still wounded by it. He had reacted in a similar manner following the compound fracture of her leg a few years back. It was the first time in their married life that she had been seriously ill or injured. She was on crutches…in a cast, and then a boot…for months. She had to rely on Peter for all the necessities: shopping, cooking, laundry. He did it without complaining, but she could sense his retreat from her. A tiny tear slipped down the side of Deanne’s nose and onto page 47 of the magazine, leaving a dark stain on the bodice of Gwyneth Paltrow’s sleek gown. Although not as svelte and glamorous as Gwyneth, Deanne had a pleasing, shapely body with curves where they counted most. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what her body might look like a couple of months from now. Deanne rose and walked down the hall to the women’s restroom. Her mind was fluttering with disjointed thoughts. Her new husband passed out next to her on their wedding night, as she swallowed sad tears of disappointment. Peter dropping her at the entrance to the hospital on the night their daughter was born saying, “Tell the doctor to call me when it’s over”. Her expectation of concern following her car accident, and experiencing anger and silence instead. She stood before the mirror, examining her reflection. Would she be able to face this alone? Because she knew that Peter would not be there for her. Just then the nurse appeared in the doorway. “Deanne, Dr. Weston is ready for you now.” Pushing a few stray hairs from her face, Deanne straightened her slumping figure and followed the nurse to the examining room. Dr. Weston entered almost immediately and extended his hand. “Mrs. Patterson? I’m Dr. Weston, the radiologist.” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “I’ve been looking at your mammogram. I understand it was your first.” He paused to slip the film onto the lighted machine. “Given that your breast tissue is very dense, Dr. Stevens was a little concerned about this area,” he said, making a small circular motion with his index finger. “I’ve just spoken with him, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that we should not do a biopsy today. I think we should wait and do a follow-up mammogram in three months. It doesn’t seem prudent to create scar tissue when we’re not sure there’s anything there.” When he finished his explanation and instructions, he shook her hand once again and left as quickly as he had entered. Deanne lovingly cupped her left breast with her right hand, while forcibly expelling the air in her lungs.
Posted on: Wed, 09 Oct 2013 02:25:54 +0000
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