Didn’t know what an EMG was, didn’t even care. All I know is, when the test ended, there was a calmness that wasn’t there before. It was tranquility you might feel after an argument, away from the craziness, with space to ponder and cry and breathe. 

Afterward, took the elevator up to Dr. Sullivan’s. He’s sitting in the same chair, with the same scowl, daring me to be ill. Except I’m not. The movement disorder is gone, masquerading like it never happened. There’s no eye clenching, no spasm rippling from cheek to cheek. It’s just me, as I looked eight days earlier, before this saga began. Outraged by the normalcy, Dr. Sullivan takes one look at me, “Get out!”

Growing up, Dad got angry when we got sick. Spent all day with people who were dying, then came home to us, with a cold. “You’re fine,” he’d say, “You’re fine!”  

“You’re fine.” That’s what doctors say when they don’t have the answers. Hadn’t Dr. Sullivan said it earlier? If anyone had a right to be angry, it was me. All I’d sacrificed for the appointment, just to have it end like this. Back in Chicago, my friends were at a Cinco de Mayo benefit, drinking margaritas and eating shrimp tacos. There was a mariachi band and silent auction. We’d spent the last six months planning the fiesta, then, when it’s time for the fun part, have to go off sleuthing.

Didn’t have notice about the appointment. Had to save on the fly, over days, not weeks. You know how hard that is? Two hundred bucks to get in the door, gave it away like I had more. Had been excited for the appointment, counting down the days. I’d get answers, and that would make it worth every penny. But answers never came. Only ridicule.

Left him sitting in that rickety chair, finger pointing to the door as if to shut it forever. On the way out, stop in the restroom to see what the fuss is about. The spasms are gone, every last one of ‘em. Peering into the reflection, wishing I’d done it sooner. Maybe then I wouldn’t have returned to Dr. Sullivan’s. Maybe then I could have gone straight home, and not down to the car, to cry.