PART II:
So I told Dr. Two about what happened. He didn't have much to say, except that I should think more of my pain. I asked him why and he wouldn't tell me. He'd just stare at me like he always does.
"Consider the whole, Brant. Consider the zeroes and the ones," He'd say.
Consider? Consider what. I'll wonder at times why this man is a doctor, but I know better than to question him. He's even got authentic medical degrees to prove it.
I woke up one morning with the pain again. I felt even more tired and broken than I normally do. Unsure of what's wrong with me, I immediately began to start considering the "whole", as Dr. Two had told me to.
The pain got worse again, just like when I stared into my cat.
I went to him again to find more answers. He knew what was wrong with me. I knew it. Perhaps that's why I kept coming back to him.
"There are no real pills that will free this condition, Brant," He told me. He must know what it is, then. If he can sit there, and stare into my eyes, and tell me that there is nothing I can do- he's had to have seen this condition previously.
So, I asked him about previous cases. He told me that all of the previous cases had been cured, and then he went silent again to listen to what I had to say about that.
I had a lot to say.
When I got home, I was so tired that I decided to go to bed early. The weakness inside remained. I went to the bathroom and undressed, preparing for a long, long shower.
And that's when I noticed it.
The pain hardened, as I looked at my stomach. The hair on it was gone. I looked inside of my shirt, and there was no hair at all. There was no hair to be found anywhere.
My body began to numb, as my breathing grew heavy. The pain felt like it was turning itself out, like it was going to burst out of my stomach. I looked up at the mirror, and my eyes were no longer blue.
They were gray.
I told Dr. Two. I showed him my eyes and my stomach, but this time he told me something different.
"It's a disorder with your RSI," He said to me. "It's as if you were reversing, Brant." He just stared at me after that.
RSI, as I later found out, stands for Residual Self Image. Dr. Two wouldn't tell me anything else.
So I told Dr. Two about what happened. He didn't have much to say, except that I should think more of my pain. I asked him why and he wouldn't tell me. He'd just stare at me like he always does.
"Consider the whole, Brant. Consider the zeroes and the ones," He'd say.
Consider? Consider what. I'll wonder at times why this man is a doctor, but I know better than to question him. He's even got authentic medical degrees to prove it.
I woke up one morning with the pain again. I felt even more tired and broken than I normally do. Unsure of what's wrong with me, I immediately began to start considering the "whole", as Dr. Two had told me to.
The pain got worse again, just like when I stared into my cat.
I went to him again to find more answers. He knew what was wrong with me. I knew it. Perhaps that's why I kept coming back to him.
"There are no real pills that will free this condition, Brant," He told me. He must know what it is, then. If he can sit there, and stare into my eyes, and tell me that there is nothing I can do- he's had to have seen this condition previously.
So, I asked him about previous cases. He told me that all of the previous cases had been cured, and then he went silent again to listen to what I had to say about that.
I had a lot to say.
When I got home, I was so tired that I decided to go to bed early. The weakness inside remained. I went to the bathroom and undressed, preparing for a long, long shower.
And that's when I noticed it.
The pain hardened, as I looked at my stomach. The hair on it was gone. I looked inside of my shirt, and there was no hair at all. There was no hair to be found anywhere.
My body began to numb, as my breathing grew heavy. The pain felt like it was turning itself out, like it was going to burst out of my stomach. I looked up at the mirror, and my eyes were no longer blue.
They were gray.
I told Dr. Two. I showed him my eyes and my stomach, but this time he told me something different.
"It's a disorder with your RSI," He said to me. "It's as if you were reversing, Brant." He just stared at me after that.
RSI, as I later found out, stands for Residual Self Image. Dr. Two wouldn't tell me anything else.