Companion dialog page for the Chapter Six narrative.
Rain settled over the porch roof in an even rhythm. The television had been on long enough that no one remembered turning it on.
The Husband sat in his chair with a cup of coffee that had long since cooled.
Three different devices rested within reach.
The television.
The tablet.
His phone.
None of them agreed on what mattered most.
Television Anchor:
"...the President is continuing scheduled appearances following yesterday's attempted assassination..."
(phone vibrates)
News Alert:
Breaking...
Foreign markets fall...
(tablet refreshes)
Opinion Column:
The real issue is immigration...
(phone vibrates again)
Weather Alert.
Heavy thunderstorms expected.
The Husband quietly locked the screen.
Wife:
You missed the rest of it.
Husband:
Which one?
(she looks toward the television)
Wife:
Exactly.
Staff members moved quickly through the marble hallway.
Nobody walked slowly anymore.
Everyone carried two telephones.
Colleague:
Did you hear?
Husband:
Which story?
Colleague:
That answers my question.
Another legislator joined them.
Second Colleague:
My wife says they're talking about shortages now.
First Colleague:
Medicine?
Second Colleague:
Medicine... Fuel... Teachers... Depends on who you ask.
Husband:
Seems like everything is short except opinions.
(light laughter)
No one stopped walking.
The examination room was intentionally plain.
The Wife preferred it that way.
Doctor:
Some laboratory work takes time.
Wife:
How much?
Doctor:
Enough that I don't want you drawing conclusions before we have complete information. I'll go over your lab results with you. If they are not available early, do not panic. Also, the main thing is we are checking everyone for Syphilis expsoure. So, the shortage we are talking about is Pencillin.
She nodded.
Doctor:
Some conditions are straightforward.
Others require repeat testing depending on timing and individual circumstances. We also have to culture certain things and make sure that you are in fact negative.
Medicine rewards patience more often than certainty.
Wife:
People don't seem patient anymore. I will do my best. It is all so unknown to me and of course you know my situation. As you are a Doctor so you understand the whole "image" situation.
Doctor:
Neither does the news. Yes, I most certainly do, we have a lot going on internally here due to social media. It is a total shock to me, actually, my husband, believe it or not, handles all our social media. I do have some trust issues sometimes.
(a brief silence)
Doctor:
You've probably heard discussions about medication availability.
We're watching supplies carefully, but today's appointment is about gathering accurate information before making decisions.
Wife:
Waiting may be the hardest part.
Doctor:
It usually is. If you start having any anxiety or other types of thoughts that are not normal to you, and I am not available, always call 911. Take this to the Pharmacy and go ahead and start the round of it, and just tell your Husband that it is "women's issues" if you are not ready to talk about the other matters or if the timing is not right.
Wife:
What about the kids?
Doctor:
Ok. I am required to report within 5 days of diagnosis, for liability issues both civil and criminal. So, if you decide not to discuss it, yet, with your family the "women's issues" will give you a couple of days to get your head straight. In Medicine and Science, this is nothing to panic about, however, knowing your, for lack of a better term, situation, I can understand the stress that this brings. When you decide to bring it up with your husband, we can work within the building for the children, and it can be just a normal day for them, non-issue. In a perfect world HIPAA would protect most of the sensitive information, however, the public figure thing within your family may be an issue. I cannot give a guess on society. The good news is, that this is more common than you think. There is a reason you found me. Come what may, the important thing is that everyone stay's healthy, no matter what other outcomes may lay ahead, and I am just being honest with you.
Wife:
Ok. Now, I am having some anxiety.
Doctor:
Ok. I'll add this prescription, it is non-narcotic, that way if anything comes out in the media in the future, that is one less item to worry about as fuel. It will be ok. Again, let's not look at statistics. Let's take it day by day and work our follow-ups and go from there, it will be ok.
Wife:
Ok. I am going to trust that and thank you so much.
Doctor:
I can also add that if we have to notify anyone other than you, I'll give you the first heads up and we can avoid any mutiny at home.
People waited quietly.
Nobody looked at anyone very long.
A television mounted in the corner played without sound.
Closed captions moved faster than anyone could comfortably read. Sometimes presenting only jibberish.
Customer:
They're saying another shortage.
Pharmacist:
Some medications have been difficult to obtain.
Customer:
Seems like everything is.
Pharmacist:
Supply chains eventually recover.
Sometimes slower than people expect.
The Wife listened without appearing to listen.
Her prescription remained folded inside her purse. As she walked out with her sunglasses on.
The children had gone to bed.
Only the blue light of the television remained.
Headline.
Commercial.
Weather.
International conflict.
Sports.
Another commercial.
The assassination attempt returned for less than thirty seconds before disappearing beneath another banner.
The Husband muted the television.
Husband:
When did everything become yesterday so fast?
Wife:
When everyone started carrying the next headline in their pocket.
Husband:
Feels like nothing lasts.
Wife:
Some things do.
He looked toward her.
Wife:
Records last.
Laboratory reports last.
Court filings last.
People's memories last longer than they admit.
News doesn't have to.
He lowered his eyes.
The rain had stopped.
Only the porch swing continued moving.
Neither of them remembered the wind that had started it.
The American flag outside hung motionless beneath the porch light.
The neighborhood was finally quiet.
Inside, the Husband stood alone in the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator.
Closed it.
Walked to the sink.
Returned to the table.
The house itself seemed to wait with him.
For laboratory results.
For another committee meeting.
For another headline.
For another message arriving from someone who knew more than they should.
Outside, the first newspaper landed softly against the front walk.
Tomorrow had already begun replacing today.