my best life 07.10.17.1204P

was anyone I could speak with. I told her I was feeling
depressed.
She gave me a clipboard and asked me to fill out the
attached questionnaire. I took a pen from a jar filled with
coffee beans and sat in the waiting room.
The form was a standard registration document
requesting my contact information and listing a variety of
potential medical conditions. I marked the box that said
depression and answered the follow up question, Have
you had thoughts of suicide?… by marking yes.
I returned the completed form to the registration desk
and headed back to the waiting room. I was very tired and
found an empty chair in the corner. I figured this would
be a good time to catch a short nap. I’m sure I’ll be
waiting here for a while.
Wrong again.
As my hands clasped on my stomach in a resting position
and my eyes closed, I suddenly heard a soft voice call my
name right in front of me. “Mr. Thompson?” I opened my
eyes and saw a middle-aged woman holding a clipboard
with a laminated ID hanging from her shirt pocket.
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