stay in queue

Different doctors came to examine my right leg.
I repeated my story to different people.
At first, I could not figure it out systematically. It was a chaos when it happened.
Then I could tell it orderly and even tried to explain it.
That's how narrative at work.
The medical profession was quite interesting. It is highly rationalized, yet it also relied on personal accounts.

Finally, the Medical Officer in charge examined my leg.
This MO was a rather vocal and stormy one.
(I had an obervation that medical and nursing staff had some kind of character. Otherwise, they could not stay in the profession.)
It was drowsy morning (or afternoon?), I seldom took a nap in any places except home. But I was too tired after staying up at night. His loud voice woke me up.

"So Doctor X saw you this morning?"

"......" (I could not identify who was who. There were too many.)

Then he read the x-rays.

"What is your occupation?"

"Teaching. "

"blah blah blah (i was still to drowsy to catch up, maybe it was something about the treatment. he was too quick. except the following) "
"you right ankle will deteriorate quicker than the left after the operation. ...."

My mind drifted. What was the meaning of deteriorate? Being able to walk, yet getting older than before? Not being able to walk? Being able to walk but walk unproperly? There were too many questions.

I asked something about what kind of treatment I would receive.

The doctor drew diagrames to explain what had happened and what would be placed inside my ankle. Very clear, just like I was having a human biology lesson.

The doctor examined my ankle. It was burning. Even a slight touch hurt a lot.

Mixed with the questions and pain, the consultation was over.

I was put into the queue for operation. Yet it quite depended on the vacanies and emergency cases.

The anxiety lingered.