Jason's Journey

Chapter 8
A Doctor’s Damper

I can feel the car rumbling beneath me as we drive along, the vibrations doing little to calm my growing anxiety. Strapped into my car seat, I watch the world pass by through the rear window, my heart pounding louder with every mile. The thought of going to the doctor fills me with dread. I have to convince Alysa to turn the car around. I take a deep breath and decide to plead my case.

“Alysa, we don’t need to go anywhere,” I begin, my voice trembling with desperation. “I feel fine, really. There’s no reason for this. You can trust me on this one.”

Alysa’s eyes meet mine through the rearview mirror, and she offers me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Jason. We’re just going for a little drive.”

“No, seriously,” I continue, my tone more urgent. “I don’t need to go anywhere. I promise I’ll be good. Just please, can we not do this?”

She nods sympathetically, her eyes still on the road. “I know, Jason. It’ll be over soon.”

My frustration grows as I realize she isn’t getting it. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t need to go anywhere. Let’s just go back home.”

Alysa glances back at me again, her expression soft. “We’re almost there, sweetie. It’ll be quick.”

I slump back in my seat, exasperated. It dawns on me that she isn’t truly engaging with what I’m saying. She’s just letting me babble, responding with the kind of generic, comforting phrases adults use with children. The realization stings.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” I mutter under my breath, my voice barely above a whisper. Alysa’s nonchalant hum in response confirms my suspicion. She isn’t really hearing me.

We arrive at a building that looks far too clinical for my liking, and the sight makes my stomach churn. Alysa parks the car, and I feel a surge of panic. I’m not going to make this easy for her. As soon as she unbuckles me, I cling to the car seat, refusing to budge.

“Jason, come on,” she coaxes, her tone gentle but firm. “We need to go inside.”

“No!” I shout, gripping the seat tighter. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

Alysa sighs, clearly sensing my growing distress. She kneels down to my level, her eyes searching mine. “Jason, we’re just going to a little check-up. It’s nothing to be scared of.”

I shake my head vehemently. “No! I don’t want to. Please, let’s just go home.”

Alysa stands up, her face thoughtful. “You seem to know exactly where we are, don’t you?” she says softly as she unbuckles me from the car seat. “You know we’re at the doctor’s office.”

Her words strike a chord, and I realize my behavior has given me away. She knows I understand more than I’m letting on. With a resigned sigh, she retrieves the stroller from the trunk and sets it up beside the car.

“Alright, Jason,” she says, her voice gentle yet decisive. “If you won’t come willingly, I’ll just have to make sure you’re safe and secure.”

She lifts me from the car seat, and despite my protests, places me in the stroller. The straps click into place, securing me firmly. I wriggle and squirm, but it’s no use. Alysa’s grip is unyielding.

“Let’s get this over with, okay?” she says, her tone soothing yet resolute.

As she pushes the stroller toward the entrance, I feel a knot of apprehension tighten in my chest. The doctor’s office looms ahead, and I know there is no escaping it now.

As Alysa pushes the stroller toward the entrance, my heart pounds in my chest. The closer we get to the building, the more the knot in my stomach tightens. The automatic doors slide open with a soft whoosh, and the cool, sterile air of the clinic washes over me, making me shiver.

I can see the front desk up ahead, a tall counter with a receptionist seated behind it. Alysa pushes me closer, and I feel my breath quicken. The fluorescent lights overhead make everything seem harsh and too bright. The smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils, and I grip the sides of the stroller tightly.

Alysa approaches the counter, smiling warmly at the receptionist. “Good morning, we’re here for Jason’s appointment,” she says, her voice cheerful and calm.

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a neat bun, looks up from her computer screen and smiles back. “Good morning! Let me just check you in.” She types something into the computer, then leans over the counter to sneak a peek at me.

“And who do we have here?” she coos, her voice sweet and soft. “Oh, what a cutie!”

I cringe at her words, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I want to tell her I’m not a cutie, that I’m not supposed to be here, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I just look away, wishing I could disappear.

Alysa beams with pride. “Thank you,” she says. “He’s a little nervous, but we’ll get through it.”

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “Of course. It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, isn’t it, Jason?” she says, still smiling at me.

I don’t respond, just grip the sides of the stroller even tighter. The receptionist clicks a few more keys on her keyboard, then looks back at Alysa. “You’re all checked in. Dr. Alvarez will see you shortly. You can have a seat in the waiting area.”

“Thank you,” Alysa says, pushing the stroller away from the counter and toward the waiting area.

As we move further into the clinic, my fear intensifies. The sounds of the clinic are overwhelming – the hum of fluorescent lights, the distant murmur of voices, the occasional beep of medical equipment. I try to focus on my breathing, but it’s shallow and rapid, and I can’t seem to calm down.

Alysa finds a seat in the waiting area and parks the stroller next to her. She reaches down and gently squeezes my hand. “It’s going to be okay, Jason,” she says softly. “We’re just here for a quick check-up. It’ll be over before you know it.”

I nod, but the fear doesn’t abate. My mind races with thoughts of needles and doctors and all the things I hate about medical appointments. I try to distract myself by looking around the waiting area. There are a few other patients sitting in the chairs, some reading magazines, others staring at their phones. A little girl across the room catches my eye and waves at me. I manage a small, nervous smile and wave back.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. I can hear the receptionist talking to another patient, her voice a constant background noise. I glance up at the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move faster.

“Jason, look at me,” Alysa says, her voice gentle but firm. I turn my head to face her, my eyes wide with fear. “I know you’re scared, but I’m right here with you. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

I nod again, trying to believe her words. Alysa’s presence is comforting, but the fear remains, a constant, gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Just then, a nurse appears in the doorway, holding a clipboard. “Jason?” she calls, looking around the waiting area. “Jason and Alysa?”

Alysa stands up, taking a deep breath. “That’s us,” she says, pushing the stroller toward the nurse.

“Great, follow me,” the nurse says with a warm smile, leading us down a hallway lined with exam rooms.

As we travel further into the building, my fear only grows. The hallway seems to stretch on forever, each step bringing us closer to the unknown. The nurse stops in front of a door and opens it, gesturing for us to enter.

“Here we are,” she says. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Alysa wheels the stroller into the room and parks it beside the exam table. The nurse leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room is small and clinical, with posters of the human anatomy on the walls and various medical instruments on the counters.

Alysa unbuckles me from the stroller and lifts me onto the exam table. I sit there, my legs dangling over the edge, feeling small and vulnerable. Alysa sits in a chair beside me, holding my hand.

“It’s going to be okay, Jason,” she repeats, her voice soothing. “Just a quick check-up, and then we can go home.”

I nod, trying to take comfort in her words, but the fear doesn’t go away. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen, and I don’t know how to stop it.

The door to the exam room swings open, and in walks a woman dressed in scrubs adorned with colorful cartoon characters, followed by a technician pushing a cart of medical equipment. The doctor’s warm smile contrasts with the sterile environment, and she greets us cheerfully.

“Good morning! I’m Dr. Sanders, and this is Marissa, my technician. How are we doing today, Jason?” she asks, her voice gentle as she approaches the exam table.

I glance at her, my anxiety spiking. “I’m okay,” I mumble, my eyes darting around the room.

Dr. Sanders turns to Alysa, her expression shifting to one of professional concern. “And how has he been doing, Alysa?”

Alysa sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s been challenging,” she admits. “He’s been having a lot of big emotions, and it’s been tough to manage.”

Dr. Sanders nods sympathetically. “I saw the portal messages about the referral for the child psychologist,” she says. “I’ve already sent in the referral to Dr. Ellis, as you requested.”

“Thank you,” Alysa replies, relief evident in her voice.

Dr. Sanders then focuses her attention on me, her hands gentle as she inspects my forehead. She prods it a little, and I wince, but the pain is minimal.

“It seems like it’s mostly healed,” she says, giving a nod of approval. “I’m glad to see that. However, if this kind of behavior continues, we might want to consider one of those toddler helmets. I wouldn’t mind sending in a prescription to a medical supplies store in the area.”

Alysa looks thoughtful. “I’ll think about it,” she says. “I just want to make sure he’s safe.”

Dr. Sanders smiles reassuringly. “Of course. Safety is the most important thing.”

She steps back and looks at her clipboard. “I’m not very worried that anything physiological is going on that might be causing the abrupt change in behavior,” she continues. “But I want to err on the side of caution. I’d like to have some bloodwork done while you’re here today. Is that alright with you?”

Alysa nods, her expression resolute. “Yes, that’s fine.”

My heart sinks, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Shots were bad enough, but the thought of them siphoning my blood makes me feel like I’m going to pass out. The room starts to spin, and I grip the edge of the exam table, my knuckles turning white.

“Bloodwork?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “No, please…”

Dr. Sanders crouches down to my level, her eyes kind and understanding. “It’ll be quick, Jason. Just a little pinch, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

Her words do little to comfort me as the fear continues to rise within me. I can’t escape this. There’s no way out.

Dr. Sanders nods to Marissa, who wheels the cart closer to the exam table. The nurse begins unwrapping the blood draw equipment, laying it out on a sterile metal table. The sight of the needles and vials makes my adrenaline surge, and I feel a wave of panic crash over me.

“No! No! I don’t want to do this!” I scream, my voice echoing off the walls. I kick my legs and thrash my arms, desperate to escape.

Alysa rushes to my side, trying to calm me down. “Jason, it’s okay. It’s just a quick test. You’ll be fine,” she says, her voice strained with worry.

But her words do nothing to soothe me. My fear is too overwhelming, and I continue to scream and struggle, tears streaming down my face. The nurse and doctor exchange looks, but Dr. Sanders remains calm and collected, even as Alysa’s panic becomes more evident.

“I don’t want to! I don’t want to!” I yell, my voice breaking.

Alysa’s voice shakes as she tries to reassure me. “Jason, please, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

Over the commotion, Dr. Sanders asks Alysa, “Would you allow him to be sedated?”

Alysa looks torn, her eyes wide with concern. “I... I don’t know,” she stammers, clearly less calm than she wants to be.

Dr. Sanders places a reassuring hand on Alysa’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Sometimes some kids need to be sedated for procedures like this. It’s not that abnormal. We just want to make sure he’s safe and comfortable.”

Alysa nods slowly, her eyes filled with worry. “Okay, if you think it’s best.”

Dr. Sanders gives a comforting smile. “I do. It will make this much easier for him.”

While the nurse tries to maintain a semblance of order, Dr. Sanders unlocks a drug safe and pulls out a bottle of medicine. 

The sight of the medication adds a new layer of anxiety, and I fight even harder. My screams reach a fever pitch as Dr. Sanders quickly measures the dose. Within moments, they are trying to shove a liquid medicine syringe into my mouth. I shake my head as much as I can, refusing to allow them to drug me.

The nurse takes a firm grip of my face, and I clench my jaw as hard as I can. I can’t let her do this. I struggle against Alysa’s grip on my arms and legs, my movements frantic. The nurse pulls on my chin and wedges her fingers between my jaw, forcing my mouth open. I whine and moan, my resistance waning as she manages to pry my mouth apart. She takes the syringe and drips some of the medication onto the back of my tongue.

I recoil in disgust, but I go nowhere with so much of my body restrained. She slowly administers the medication until the syringe is empty. I fight to keep the bitter liquid at the back of my throat, breathing only through my nose. The angle she holds me at makes it impossible for me to spit or let the medicine fall out of my mouth.

“Jason, stop this,” Alysa says, her frustration leaking into her tone. “Swallow the medication.”

I shake my head, my defiance still strong despite my dwindling energy.

“It’s absolutely fine. It’s typical that once it gets to this point, the child isn’t going to cooperate anymore,” the nurse replies calmly. She places the syringe on the metal table, then massages my neck until she hits a funny spot that makes my throat itch, and I reflexively swallow.

The shock, anger, and frustration of losing the battle make me lash out. I scream and thrash as best I can, but the sedation is already starting to take effect. My limbs feel heavy, and my movements slow down.

The nurse helps Alysa buckle me into the stroller. I bite at the straps, trying to fight off the drowsiness creeping over me.

“I just…” Alysa’s voice wavers. “I just don’t know where this is coming from.”

The nurse rolls a stool near Alysa and takes hold of her hand. “Dear, I am sure you are a great mom. I can see that Jason is well taken care of, and you are doing everything you are supposed to do.” She pauses. “Sometimes, this is just a phase, and even if it isn’t, it will get better as he learns to regulate himself.”

“Okay,” Alysa says, but she is clearly not fully convinced.

The nurse hands Alysa a bottle of water and advises, “When he calms down, see if he will take a drink of water. Do you need a cup?”

Alysa shakes her head. “No but thank you. I have a bottle with me, and he takes those better when he’s this upset.”

The sedative starts to take full effect, and I feel myself slipping into a dazed state. My muscles relax, and I slump back into the stroller, my earlier fight completely gone. Alysa’s voice reaches me through the fog, cutting through the haze with its comforting tone.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says softly, unbuckling me from the stroller with gentle, practiced movements. She lifts me into her arms, cradling me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world. Her embrace is warm and secure, and I instinctively nestle into her shoulder, seeking comfort in her closeness. “I bet my little boy is feeling sleepy, huh? I’ll hold your baba for you.”

Alysa shifts me slightly, supporting my head with one hand while she retrieves a bottle from her bag with the other. The sight of the familiar nipple calms me further, and when she brings it to my lips, I instinctively latch on. The soft rubber of the nipple feels comforting in my mouth, and I begin to suckle, the water flowing slowly and soothingly down my throat.

Each sip seems to carry away a bit more of my tension, and I feel my eyelids growing heavier. Alysa’s gentle rocking adds to the lullaby effect, her movements rhythmic and calming. I can feel her heartbeat through her chest, a steady, reassuring thump that lulls me further into a state of relaxation.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. “Just relax and drink your water. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The room around me blurs as I drift in and out of consciousness, the lines between reality and the dreamlike state created by the sedative becoming increasingly indistinct. I’m vaguely aware of Alysa’s soft hums, her voice blending with the background noise of the clinic, creating a cocoon of sound that makes me feel safe and protected.

With each pull on the bottle, I slip further into the haze. My thoughts become disjointed, a series of fleeting images and sensations that I can’t quite grasp. The coolness of the water, the warmth of Alysa’s embrace, the gentle hum of her voice – all of it melds together into a soothing symphony that drowns out my earlier fears and anxieties.

I don’t even notice when the nurse returns to the room, her presence barely registering in my foggy mind. She approaches us quietly, her movements efficient and practiced. Alysa shifts me slightly, keeping me cradled against her chest as the nurse prepares the blood draw equipment.

“Just a little prick, Jason,” Alysa whispers, her voice a constant source of comfort. “You’re doing so well.”

The nurse cleans my arm with an alcohol pad, the cold sensation barely noticeable through the sedative’s haze. Alysa continues to hum softly, her fingers gently stroking my hair. The prick of the needle is a distant sensation, a minor discomfort that I barely register.

Before I realize it, the nurse is finished, and the room is quiet again. Alysa continues to hold me, rocking gently back and forth, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one blending into the next as I drift in and out of awareness. I have no sense of time, no idea how long we’ve been waiting. My thoughts become more and more jumbled, and I start to babble incoherently, my words a stream of nonsensical phrases that I don’t even realize I’m speaking out loud.

A gentle chuckle pulls me back to the present. “Sounds like someone’s got a lot on his mind,” the nurse says as she reenters the room. Her voice is kind, a soothing counterpoint to my disoriented state.

Dr. Sanders follows, a warm smile on her face. “The preliminary results for the bloodwork look great,” she announces. “I’ll be in touch if any of the other tests have concerning results, but it’s very unlikely. I hope you’re able to get in with Dr. Ellis soon.”

Alysa thanks the doctor and nurse, her voice filled with relief. “Thank you both so much.”

She gently places me back in the stroller and straps me in, her movements careful and loving. The motion of the stroller as she wheels me out of the room is soothing, and I feel a wave of happiness wash over me at the thought of leaving the clinic. By the time we make it to the car, I’m already asleep, the events of the day fading into the background as I drift into a deep, peaceful slumber.