According to the office manager at my rheumatologist, I’m stern. Stern. Hmm. So, standing up for myself and refusing to pay for other people’s prescription errors is stern. I was direct and used my teacher’s displeased voice. No cursing. Just straightforward and called things as they were. Stern. Sure, whatever. It got things fixed.
They wrote one prescription incorrectly and wrote a second in such a nebulous way that it was easily misinterpreted.
Any woman who stands up for herself in American society is considered bitchy, stern, and difficult.
*Rolls eyes* I shall wear the label of stern proudly. (though I am certain that I’m listed as a difficult patient somewhere in the notes) *smirks*
Me, talking to my rheumatologist’s office forevermore…
This week’s WIPpet Wednesday* comes again from Surrogate: Traditions, the third novel in the Surrogate Series.
I’ve only two more Surrogate Traditions WIPpets to share after this and then it’s on to something brand-spanking new.
Here’s my WIPpet math: 10/11/17
10+1+1+1 (forget the 7) = 13 Paragraphs.
The setup: Like the post title states, Merch and Etain are back in that tiny room, meaning we’re almost back where we started.
“Dammit!” Merch covered Etain’s head when a long screw fell from the ceiling. “I should have made space under the bed!” The shaking ceased soon after, and they laid across the bed, their heads together as they evaluated their predicament. “Any hurts?”
“Just that scratch from earlier.” Merch rubbed her temples when she sat up. “But my head hurts like a load of bricks fell on it.” She reached for a water bottle. “Maybe I’m dehydrated.”
“How much light do we have left today?” Etain sat up as well.
“We need to power down.” Merch chugged one bottle and reached for a second. “Damn, my arm is hurting now.”
She never complains about anything. Etain turned her wrist to see. “It’s inflamed.”
“I see that.” Merch rinsed the scratch with second bottle’s dregs then coughed hard and fluidic, bending at the waist to catch her breath. “That control panel go nuts or something?”
“Not any more than it has been.” Etain put a medicated seal bandage over the scratch. “Why?”
“Now I’m cold.” Merch coughed even harder and clutched her stomach, stumbling to the bathroom where she vomited into the toilet. “Shit. Please, no.”
“Mercine?” Etain stood in the bathroom doorway. “I am going to ready the bed then you’re getting in it.”
Merch nodded and put her head back to the toilet.
They didn’t talk much after that. Etain straightened the sheets then stripped Merch to her tank top and underwear and put her to bed, leaving her only long enough to assure the Panpobal workers that they were still safe. They stared at her with their big eyes, but Etain could sense their fear like her own. They were locked in, soon without power, and Merch— Etain watched in horror as blood trickled from her imma’s nose.
I’ll not lose you too, dammit. She looked up where Medi should be and began to pray.
*WIPpet Wednesday is a blog hop wherein writers share excerpts of their latest WIP. All genres and levels of accomplishment are welcome. The only stipulation is that the excerpt must coincide with the date in some manner. For example, on 10/8/14 you might share 10 lines from page 8, 8 paragraphs from chapter 14, or perhaps 18 sentences by doing WIPpet math and adding the day to the month. We’re flexible like that.