We didn't end up going to a doctor. He came to us.
He, rather my father, thought that it would be safer if he came instead of us to him. Something about my body being weak enough as is.
The physician, who I came to know as Dr. Fluchel, claimed to be as stunned as my father. To his dismay— he said there was nothing wrong with me physically and mentally I was all there.
Except my memories obviously.
He circled around me. His hands cold as they flitted across my body. Checking my pulse, check my head for any injuries. It got invasive as he scoured my body for stray bruising.
After all of this, Mr. Fluchel distanced himself from me, carrying his little notebook. He scribbled ferociously as he made comments to himself.
'Inconclusive,' was muttered more than once. Each time more negative than the last. With a look of regret, he closed his notebook at look to my father.
"Mr. Allum, It's hard to tell whether this may be temporary or long term. The way you react to it is entirely up to you."
Father ushered him away with a ugly frown.
I watched on as he paced around the foot of my bed, subconsciously biting his nails. The feeling it gave me, made me uncomfortable. I was just a third party watching all happen. I wasn't even his daughter and here I was pretending to be. Selfishly accepting his worry and affection like it was meant for me.
"Father?" I should feel shamed.
It was like a switch, his worry and panic traded places with care and affection.
"What is it, my love?"
I wasn't sure how to respond— I just wanted him to stop being so hard on himself.