She takes the thermometer from my hand, looks at the screen, and laughs quietly. "One hundred and two."
"I knew I was dying."
"No." She shakes her head as she writes the number down. "You're dramatic."
I glare at her while she shines a light in my ears and checks my throat. "I can be dramatic and dying."
"You aren't dying, Tiny." She says, pressing the stethoscope against my back. "Take a deep breath."
I try, and it immediately turns into a coughing fit.
"Again," she says patiently.
I manage a better breath the second time, and she moves around in front of me before shining the light into my throat again.
Sophie studies me for another second before she scribbles something on my chart. "I'm pretty sure you've got Influenza," she says, capping her pen. "But let's make sure we're treating the right thing."
"I knew it," I groan, letting my head fall back until I'm staring at the ceiling tiles. "I'm dying."
She laughs as she sets the clipboard on the counter. "You're not dying. Just stay put, I’m going to get some tests to find out what you have."
"I don't think I could leave if I wanted to."
Sophie slips out of the room, and I'm left sitting there by myself. I lean against the paper-covered exam table with my eyes closed, trying not to move because even turning my head makes it pound. A minute later the door opens again, and she walks back in carrying a tray with a handful of swabs and a couple of test kits.
"I hate the look of that," I mutter as she sets everything down.
She smiles without an ounce of sympathy. "I figured you would."
"What are those for?"
"I'm testing you for the flu, COVID, and strep. Your symptoms overlap enough that I want to rule everything else out before I send you home."
I let out a dramatic sigh. "Don’t you think I've already suffered enough."
"You'll survive this too."
"I was really hoping you weren't going to say that."
She picks up the first swab and steps closer. "Head back."
I do what she says, and she slides the swab into my nose. My eyes immediately water. "Oh, come on," I complain, jerkingback as soon as she pulls it out. "Nobody should have to experience that."
"Lucky for you we're only halfway done."
I stare at her. "You're kidding."
She isn't. The second swab goes up the other side, and I swear she hits a part of my brain nobody's ever touched before.
"I saw my ancestors," I mumble, blinking away tears. "I think one of them laughed at me."
Sophie laughs while dropping the swabs into their testing tubes. "I'll be sure to note that in your chart."
"You should. It feels medically significant."
She picks up another swab and shines a light toward my throat. "Open."
I sigh but do it anyway. "This is bullying."
