Doctor’s Visit

The room didn’t smell right-

A hospital should smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.

But my room was choked with a sickly sweet smell,

like freshly regurgitated cotton candy.

The smell, combined with the unnaturally high humidity,

gave the distinct impression of a backwoods carnival--

Not an examination room.

The nurse was a gangly young man, all nervous twitching and hurried glances.

Looking more suited as a down-on-his-luck Tilt-A-Whirl operator than a medical professional.

His eyes, too large for their sockets, were jumping between me and his clipboard.

He wiped sweat from his brow, marked with swollen purple-red blemishes.

He finally spoke after an unbearable five minutes sitting in silence.

“Doctorshouldbeinsoon-” he managed in a barely human squeak before leaving the room.

The walls were covered in nauseatingly bright posters,

plastered with oddly worded messages like:

“Imbibe only the healthy!”

“The teeth are white!”

“Organ health is key!”

“Keep you're skin clean!”

They read like poorly translated product slogans.

A small plastic bin was filled with cotton balls and tongue depressors.

Another with oddly colored lollipops, all sickly jaundiced yellows and deep bloody reds.

The one next to it was filled with used needles.

They were all unlabeled, all identical in appearance.

I questioned the safety in their close proximity.

I stood next to curtains, which I opened to a view of a plain wall.

Apparently they removed the window.

The room was feeling more and more like a facade.

Like a twisted sitcom imitation of what a hospital room should be.

I decided I should check to see if they even knew I was still here.

I went to open the door, and cracked my head against it as it remained closed.

I figured it just opened in instead of out.

I was wrong

It was just locked.

Locked from the outside.

I was starting to suspect that I was in the wrong hospital.