Thursday was quite eventful. My 9 year old sister got sick, and I took her to the hospital.
The same doctor who treated me as a child was checking her up. As I looked into his dull blue eyes, I felt releived that he didn't remember me. I hated him so much when I was younger. I don't know why, though. Maybe it's because I wasted many precious hours in the waiting room of his clinic, therefore I assosiated him with boredom and down-right meanness.
Then came the shocker:
"Your sister is very sick, ma'am." He droned.
I said nothing. I looked like a paniced idiot, though. You can bet on that.
He then said some Doctor-y stuff to the nurse (do they intend for us not to understand a word they're saying? It sure looks like they fucking do.)
Two hours and (what looked like a very painful) blood test later, the news came through; she was okay.
We went home and ordered a pizza.