The pungent smell of disinfectant hits my nostrils as we enter the treatment room. The chair crunches on the floor. The doctor shakes my mother's hand. Pleasantries and names are exchanged.
I don't shake hands with the doctor. I just stare at him and think about the things I've heard. Go to Doctor Wilson, they said. If no one finds the problem, he might. Like he's some kind of genius.
My mother rubs my back. "He's very shy." I'm not shy. I'm ashamed of why I'm here. I'm usually the one people have to tell to stop talking already. 'Shut up, Felix' is the most common term in our school class.
My mother shields her hand next to her mouth and whispers, "He's afraid of doctors." I'm not afraid of doctors either. I hate them. When you're young, doctors don't mean cures and improvements. They mean inconveniences. They mean take your pants off and let me look at it.
"I see," the doctor says as we sit down. "How can I help?"
I space out as my mother begins to tell the story of a boy who hides his wet sheets under the bed on an early school morning. Unfortunately, stench cannot be hidden.
"Only at night?" My mother nods. "Has an ultrasound been made?"
"A thousand times."
"Cystitis?"
"Never before."
The doctor thoughtfully folds his hands over his mouth like this is some sort of quiz game. "Family issues?"
"I'm sorry?" My mother's face turns ashen. Instead, I find this funny. This doctor just hit the jackpot after only three questions.
"Bedwetting is a fairly common problem for mental stress."
"At this age?"
"At any age. Up to sixteen."
"How can I help him then?" How about divorce?
"We have this program in our hospital," the doctor says, reaching for a brochure, "where children with such problems stay for a few weeks to see how things are changing in another living environment. We've got highly qualified therapists and regular check-ups often give us a better insight into how to help him."
I find this nonsense. You see, we've been to more than ten doctors who didn't dare to address the real problem. This one just did it. And my mother could send me to hundreds of thousands of programs—it doesn't change what's happening at home.
YOU ARE READING
Borders & Rules
Teen FictionWhere does rape begin? What makes people kill themselves? How does anyone even kiss and why do people always think the best thing in a relationship is sex not love? Felix is young, he still doesn't have an answer to all the questions. Instead, Blair...
