Untersuchung

I stepped into the clinic, clutching a stuffed white rabbit and a German textbook. Pretending not to feel the stares of the people in the waiting room, I sat down and continued to study. "Meine Schwester ist in Deutschland," I whispered to myself. 

The Nurse led the Lady and me into the Doctor's office without a word. The Mirror in that room was awfully rude--"Look how ugly she is!" she jeered. That couldn't possibly be me in the mirror. The Nurse produced a needle and pricked my drawing finger, then quickly pressed blood from it. (The pressure hurt much, much worse than the needle.) In less than a half-second, she wrapped a bandage around my finger; it only forced more blood from the tiny cut. She left the room and I was made to undress myself and wear a paper gown which made my shoulders look twice as broad as they really are (meanwhile being careful not to look at the Mirror). I sat in a chair and carefully pulled off the bandage. I couldn't write, so I only stared at my bare feet, torn up and too big for the rest of my body. I tried not to look up at the mirror, but when I did, she said perfectly horrid things to me. 

"You're much too tall." 

"You're awfully big." 

"Your face is so long." 

"Your eyes are tiny." 

"You look so womanly!"

The bleeding finally stopped and I continued to study. "Seid bitte leise!" The Doctor came in after what seemed like seven years of knitting nettle-shirts. He examined me all over and noticed the bruises on my knees and cuts on my feet. He asked how old I was and I didn't respond. He asked about what I'd been eating, how much I slept. I answered most of his questions with a head motion or a single word, staring at my feet. He spoke to the Lady and I continued to study again, "Ich bin nur ein Kind." The Lady told me to put my book away.

Ich mag nicht die Behandlungszimmer.