Terminally Neurotic

By Tyra Lamar

Originally published Fall 2012.

A Visit to the ER:

“Mr. Phil D’Angelo!”

Phil glared at the broken thumb as if it were to blame for this latest insult. As it offered no defense, D’Angelo rose and proceeded to the nurse.  She eyed the patient warily for a few moments and then, seeing no one else approach, gave a startled laugh.

“I beg your pardon. Ms. Phil D’Angelo!”

Philippa shrugged and flashed a winning smile. “Not every day you meet a girl named Phil, is it?”

They walked through the double doors to the examination rooms, the nurse nodding like a bobble head doll. “It’s just that, you see, when I read that you broke your finger in a BMX accident, I just thought…”

“What everyone thinks.” She walked into the room and plopped onto the exam table, her hands behind her head. “I’m training for the Olympics.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Dr. Smith will be in shortly.”

Dr. Smith was a portly man who talked too much and examined too little. “So, what’s your line of work, Phil?” he asked with a loud chuckle.

“PhD student, neuroscience,” Philippa said. “Can you fix my finger?”

“Oh sure, sure.” He waved his hand at her and began typing rapidly on the computer. “I’m more interested in what you’re doing to your brain with your BMX habit, Ms. D’Angelo. Many of my sports-inclined patients have been suffering from a nasty disorder called megrim lately, and I don’t want you to be one of them. May I recommend a neurologist?” Before Philippa could answer, he was called from the room.

Philippa grabbed her cell as soon as he was gone, and called her friend Max. “Hey Max, can you recommend a good physician? I don’t know what Dr. Smith is trying to pull, but last time I checked, you don’t need a neurologist for a megrim. It’s nothing a good bottle of extra-strength acetaminophen can’t handle. I should know: I have one now after listening to Dr. Smith’s bad jokes for the past half hour.”


Answer here.


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