Chapter 1 - I Knew I Should Have Stayed Home Today (1/2)

As I stood surrounded by the most powerful people in the kingdom arguing over me, I wished more than anything that I'd just stayed in bed that day and missed my doctor's appointment. The $50 cancellation fee would've been nothing compared to this.

An ironic thought crossed my mind—I was like that character in one of my favorite cartoons as a kid; every time his class ended up going on a magical field trip he always lamented ”I knew I should have stayed home today!” as they left.

Me too, kid. Me too.

My life got turned upside down on an ordinary Tuesday. I sat scrolling through comics on my phone in the waiting room of yet another doctor's office.

It was my third visit this month, not counting the biweekly physical therapy appointments I had to go to for my back, neck, and shoulder pain.

Why was a twenty-three year old woman going to the doctor so often? Well, I'd been a bit of a medical mystery for the past five years.

I started getting dizzy, having constant stomach aches, migraines, and all-over pain my freshman year of college. Despite being on seven different medications and going to the doctor more than a dozen times per year, they still hadn't quite figured out everything that was going on with me yet.

I barely managed to graduate college working around my various health crises and, being a millennial, couldn't find a half-decent job without going back for more school. I had friends in grad school—from what they told me about the workload, my body would not survive.

So I took a part-time job as the ”librarian” (they couldn't technically call me that since my degree wasn't in library science but for some reason they hired me anyway) at an elementary school and tried to work my doctor's appointments around my schedule as best I could.

It wasn't hard work at all but even the minimal effort of being at the school six hours a day took a toll on my already poor health.

The majority of my time was spent cooped up in my studio apartment, devouring book after book (though I occasionally shook it up by bingeing a new TV show or watching doc.u.mentaries). Fiction was so much better than reality! Or so I thought at the time.

”Katie Pullman?” a nurse called from the door. That was my cue.

Hopping out of my chair with a wince—my knees really don't allow for hopping—I closed my comic about a girl who found herself inside the world of a novel and shoved my phone into my pocket.

After taking my height, weight, and blood pressure, the nurse asked the standard question: what brings you in today?

”My primary care doctor wants me to get tested for autoimmune disorders,” I said dully.

She'd already tested me for just about everything else and said her hands were tied. My pain was honestly unexplainable by any of the usual culprits.