When Chaos Loses Patience

It seems like every doctor’s office is the same room, despite the minute differences in decor. They all contain the same, solemn atmosphere, with some people waiting too long for their appointments while others fidget nervously in the hopes of positive news. Children bored, making noise, being shushed by parents while the adults actively press the meager selection of toys upon them for a temporary reprieve. There are plenty of things in a waiting room that most people can agree they’ve been around more than once, no matter where they live. Most interactions are minimal, but polite, at best.

I had to endure the somber tone again, and it seemed like any other yearly physical; of course, things have changed since the pandemic began, so the room was emptier than usual because of social distancing, and my face mask was fogging up my sunglasses as it always did in public. I lifted the glasses from my nose and gave a quick glance at the surrounding two patients in safely spaced seating: one was an elderly woman, wearing a disposable medical mask, with a heavy, faux fur coat draping her small frame a couple of sizes too large. The other patient was a young man, perhaps in his early 20’s, dressed as if he had just finished working on a farm. He had heavy boots, dirt dusted jeans, and a thick, heavy coat designed to withstand wear and tear in all types of weather. His mask was a plain cloth mask in a shade of forest green, and he wore a plain brown baseball cap.

No one had identifying features anymore beyond their clothing, the shapes of their eyes, and the color of their hair. I didn’t necessarily mind that, but sometimes, I really did miss being able to exchange polite smiles with strangers. Simple things have always made me happiest.

The nurse opened the door and called my name. I stood up and carried my completed yearly update paperwork, following her to be weighed and ended up in room 23. I sat on the edge of the table and checked various apps for messages as I waited.

The door made a small “click” noise as it opened and I pushed my phone into my hoodie pocket, not wanting to be disrespectful to the doctor. Instead of her, it was the elderly woman from the waiting room, and she was holding out what looked like a handwritten prescription.

“Take it."

I hopped off the table and looked around nervously. My voice came out slightly muffled by the cloth over my lips, “I’m sorry, I think you may be in the wrong room.”

“It’s yours.”

I breathed a heavy sigh out and crinkled the edges of my eyes up into a visible grin, uninterested in possibly upsetting or offending her. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

Her eyes crinkled up in a responding smile, looking almost glossed over. I decided that I would just pass along the paper to the doctor.

The woman left, and within minutes, the doctor arrived with her usual questions. I handed her the paper at the end of the appointment. “This woman gave me this, she was older so I’m not sure if she knew what she was doing, but she had the fur coat on. If she’s still here, perhaps someone can get this back to her.”

The doctor retrieved it from my hand and thanked me while I stood up and gathered my things. I left the room and re-entered the waiting room, a gasp escaping me as I realized the young man in the brown cap was standing right there.

“I’m sorry! Excuse me.” I tried to slip around him, but he stepped along with my movements to remain in my path.

“You forgot something, ma’am.” His country accent was thick, and his eyes almost looked glossed over, as his hand reached out to hand me a piece of paper.

I had no idea what was going on, but I looked down hesitantly to notice that it was the exact same prescription that the woman in the faux fur had tried to give me. I took it from his hand and his eyes seemed to return to normal. I smiled, my heart racing while my body reacted in every way that betrayed my forced expression. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Where his voice had been strong and confident, mine came out shaky, weak, and forced.

He smiled in return and headed back to the exam rooms.

I headed for the exit, returning a quick “you, too!” as the check-in employee bid me farewell and a pleasant day. I dug in my hoodie pocket for my keys frantically, still refusing to look at the prescription as I replaced my keys with the paper in my pocket. I got to my blue SUV and unlocked it hastily, jumping up into the driver’s seat as quickly as I could manage, and slammed the lock button as soon as my door was closed. I pulled my mask off and breathed hard, wondering if I was just overreacting.

The car started with ease and I smoothly zipped out of the parking lot and into the minimal traffic on the south side of town that afternoon. I made it all the way home without focusing too much on the paper in my pocket, parking in my usual spot beside my husband’s car, and rubbed my face hard. I needed to get my act together before I went inside and spoke with my family.

“Hello?” I opened the door and called for the attention of anyone who might be lingering inside, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone was in the backyard.

Having heard no movements or responses, I headed to the back of the house and opened the patio door.

No one was there, which was odd, considering it was the weekend and everyone was here when I left. Not to mention my husband’s car being home…

My mind returned immediately to the prescription paper. Damn that paper, damn the weird interactions at the doctor’s office, damn this whole situation! I was so mad that everything was changing so quickly, putting me in what felt like an impossible experience that I’d never win. I retrieved the paper from my pocket, my hands shaking, and finally read it.

Name: Jackie Swift

Date: ---

Address: 3223 Ivy Lane

Pink, x2/d, 1wk, code ROmax

I had no idea what any of this meant, but I figured nothing would resolve itself unless I went full in and turned the prescription into my pharmacy. It did have my name on it, after all, and the correct home address.

When I arrived and handed the paper to the pharmacy technician, her eyes glossed over for a moment as she read everything. “Yes, I have this ready for you.” She reached under the counter and slid a small bottle across the counter, “No charge.”

“Thank you so much.” Her eyes lifted in a smile and she reassured me it was no problem, while I walked away with a loose bottle of mystery medicine clutched in my hand as I rushed out the door and back to my car.

Things were clearly getting more unpredictable by the moment, but if I didn’t just go with it at this point, I was going to really freak out.

I jumped back in my car and reviewed the label printed on the bottle. “Take two a day for seven days. Reset Options Maximized.”

There was no way for me to begin to understand what the last three words even meant, but if taking mystery medication was going to fix the weirdness going on in my personal little world, I decided it was worth it. I just needed my life back.

Opening the bottle shakily, I peered into the small, orange container and reviewed what appeared to be fourteen small, pink tablets. They looked more like small candies than anything. I retrieved two and reached for a stray bottle of water in the passenger seat, tossing them back quickly before re-capping the bottle and grasping it while I waited for any kind of change…Without warning, the entire vehicle lurched violently, and I was spinning.

With an abrupt halt, everything stopped.

At some point, I had closed my eyes in fear, feeling my stomach churn with motion sickness as my skin produced a light layer of a panicked sweat. I opened them very slowly and recognized my driveway, my home, and our surrounding neighborhood. It was bright and beautiful, as it usually was, and everyone’s yards were perfectly green and landscaped.

I slowly exited the vehicle and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, the bottle still in the other, and I looked down to realize my attire had changed. I was wearing an outfit I had worn perhaps a week ago, and I had my purse on my arm, which I hadn’t been carrying earlier to the doctor’s office. I looked around the neighborhood and did not see any other people out and about, which felt unusual, but I slipped the bottle inside my handbag and headed inside.

“Hello?” I called cautiously.

“MOM!”

My youngest daughter ran around the corner and up to the front door where I stood, and I placed a hand on my chest and sighed in a happy relief. “Mom, did you bring me the eggs? The candy eggs? Remember, because you said---”

“---that if you did a good job on spelling, you’d get the candy eggs…”

My voice trailed off. This conversation happened a week ago.

Somehow, I had...time traveled? No, that’s not even a real thing. That cannot happen. Yet, here I was, standing in the same position and in the same clothing I wore a week ago, having the same conversation with my child that I had a week ago.

Part of me wanted to explode in a series of complaints, questions, grievances, and cry while releasing every one of them. The other part reminded me to just keep moving forward. Besides, if I took these pills daily, and stayed in my normal life, I would get back to where everything went wrong and change it.

I knew where everything went wrong. It was the doctor’s appointment. Everything fell apart after I got to that office. I decided quickly that once I re-visited that point in time, I would reschedule the appointment and continue on, hopefully forgetting this entirely strange nightmare ever occurring.

With that, I approached each day very carefully, not wanting to alter a single thing. I stayed as optimistic as I could, despite how absurdly difficult it was to cope with my reality being so completely unexpected like this.

I may have time traveled, and I knew at the very most that being cautious not to change too much was a major theme. It reminded me of a story I read multiple years ago in elementary school, where a scientist who time traveled stepped on a single butterfly and completely ruined the future, so I retraced every step with care and thought. I devoted my entire existence to ensuring my life would return to normal, taking note to maintain a normal, happy demeanor. I entered anticipated arguments and argued as normal rather than with a newly obtained perspective; I went through every important moment exactly as I recalled it, and felt proud of my efforts.

When I returned to the day I dreaded the most, I woke up and grabbed my phone immediately, calling my doctor’s office to reschedule my appointment. I feigned a situation of encountering someone who tested positive during the pandemic and gave myself two weeks to sort myself out before returning to the place that unexpectedly destroyed my life.

For some reason, I was nervous all day long. I waited for the time of the appointment to arrive, wanting those fateful minutes to tick by and be gone forever, much in a way like my daughter wanted for candy eggs so often. I sat anxiously on the sofa, my legs crossed, foot bouncing with anxiety as my eyes fixated so heavily on the clock that my surroundings became a blur. I studied every tick of the second hand, watched every detailed movement of the minute hand, and breathed steadily. I felt like I was more than likely insane, but I needed these moments to be finished so I could begin the process of moving on.

My husband walked in, startling me from my staring contest with an inanimate object. “Is everything okay? Why did you cancel your physical?”

“Just a safety precaution. I’ve been...a lot of places this week.”

He narrowed his eyes at my obviously weak excuse, and my own eyes strayed back to the clock. My appointment time was beginning.

I turned to speak to my husband, but he was gone.

Unsure what would cause him to flee the room so quickly in just a few seconds’ time, I exhaled slightly because nothing seemed unusual yet. Besides my husband being suddenly gone.

I leapt from my seat and frantically searched the house. I called his name in a panic. His name turned into me screaming, until I screamed so much I couldn’t breathe anymore…

...and I fell…

...I continued falling…

...I was falling forever…

...until everything stopped again. Only, this time, I had no heart racing. I had no sheen of sweat. No nausea. I felt fine, really, and I wondered for a moment if my sanity had broken entirely. I found myself lying on the floor of a very nondescript room, with no furniture or doors or windows. Slowly, I stood up, and as I did I noted a clustered movement of shadows coming toward me. I refused to panic at this point, and just waited for the shadows to consume me.

The being hovered a few feet away from me and I breathed out, “Am I dead?”

“Yes. It appears that Chaos took you to Death too soon, so Fate intervened for a second chance. One opportunity to learn, explore, and understand where chaos intervened in order to avoid it. You were granted every opportunity with every reset option available...and, you have failed.”

I failed?

“When did I fail? I avoided the doctor. That’s where all the chaos began! Wasn't it?!"

The being before me hesitated, it seemed, before replying to my question with an answer that should have sent chills through me, were I still alive.

"No."

The formation of the mouth-less shadow being moved slowly forward, hovering and gliding its way toward me. I sighed as the shadows cradled me like a newborn until they consumed me entirely.