The Global Fellowship: Prelude to The Infinitus Saga

4 - Admitting

"Arthur Mallorey," a smooth female voice booms from overhead.

The admitting door opens just as my eyes do and a man in purple scrubs walks toward me. My body has been stiffening as I sit and when I stand up to meet him, I clench my teeth to hold back a cry of pain. I keep my eyes open, steadying myself against the side of the chair. Hopefully, I look like I'm trying to remember something, instead of waiting for my vision to clear.

"Arthur? Go ahead and leave that here," the man says. He has coppery skin, chestnut brown hair, and a high tenor voice.

No way am I going to leave this lying around. Every shirker knows, if you leave it for a minute, you're giving it away. Before I can grab my backpack though, the man picks it up and slings it over his shoulder. He slumps only minutely under the weight of my life.

"That's my—"

"It's no problem." He heads straight to the door. "I'm Dr. Ervine. Normally you'd be attended by a Transition Coordinator through your welcoming, Arthur, but I took a look at your health screening. The Coordinator will collect your belongings from the examination room. Follow me."

Okay ... I resist the urge to ask why my health screening changes things. As the admitting door shuts behind us, a nervous tremor races through my stomach.—Don't be an idiot. There's no reason to be paranoid.

"You have a very serious genetic abnormality," the doctor says.

Yeah, no kidding.

After rounding a couple of corners, we enter a tiny room. There's just enough space for him to navigate around the examination table and access its steel drawers and cabinets. The walls are a light-yellow color and the floor is simple white tile. Everything in here looks crazy clean.

"We rarely see cases of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome anymore. I expect you're in need of immediate medical care, so we're going to skip a few steps."

Sweet! Who knew that being sick would be a fast pass to getting through this place?

"Sure." I shrug, trying to sound casual. I ignore the pinch in my neck that prevents my right shoulder from lifting quite as high as my left.

"How would you rate your pain now, on a scale of one to ten, with one being barely noticeable and ten being the worst you can imagine?" He sets my backpack on the floor by the door and motions for me to sit on the examination table.

"Uh, like a six I guess." The worst pain I can imagine makes me blackout. I shrug again and a twinge makes me wince.—Stupid neck!—I rub my right hand against my left forearm to try and steady their shaking.

"Let's try some of this, shall we?" He fills a syringe with something clear.

"What is it?" I lean away.

"It's a medication that targets your sodium channels and nervous system for long-term pain reduction. I've combined it with a fast-acting anesthetic. It's completely safe, and should provide you some immediate relief."

I hold out my arm and accept the shot. After a brief burning sensation, a blessed numbness washes through me. The relief is such a sharp sensation that it's almost a secondary pain.—Thank you, God.—Tears immediately flood my eyes and I start to topple.

"Careful now." Dr. Ervine grabs my arm and holds me upright. He uses foot pedals to make back and arm supports rise out of the examination table.

"I'm sorry." I choke on my tears. Jeez, this is embarrassing.

"It's alright." He smiles, raising leg supports to help me recline. "Resisting constant pain requires a lot of strength. Sometimes when a patient's pain is removed, their strength goes with it for a moment. Now, I need to talk to you about your future care. How well do you understand your condition?"