Gemotions

The doctor’s pronouncements felt like a slap in the face. “It’s a very unusual presentation,” he’d said, peering at Amelia’s chart as though she were a particularly fascinating bug. “Quite extraordinary, actually.” Amelia crossed her arms, the fabric of her coat suddenly scratchy against her skin. The dismissive tone, the way he kept looking *past* her, as if she wasn’t even in the room, rankled. She wanted to yell at him for treating her like a specimen.

He continued, “We’ve seen only one other case… in the entire country.” Amelia’s jaw tightened. One other case? This was her life, her body, and he was treating it like a parlor trick. She thought of all the years of misdiagnosis, the dismissals, the feeling of being utterly alone. Now, this pompous ass was treating it like a trivia fact.

“And you wouldn’t happen to have…” Amelia began, her voice brittle, “…the details of this other case?” Her fingers drummed a furious rhythm on the armrest of her chair. The doctor finally looked at her, a flicker of something that might have been surprise in his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected her to push back.