Zed Blaze (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dreamlikenewyork2015-10-12 02:21 am
zedblaze) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2015-10-12 02:21 am
Entry tags:
"And the city sickness, growing inside me."
Who: Zed Blaze and Karla Jameson
What: Desperately needing help
Where: Dr Karla Jameson's clinic, White Plains
When: Day after THIS
It probably should have been before this that Zed got himself to a doctor, but there had been delusion mixed with fear. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend none of it was happening. Now, he was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's clinic, which was kind of on the busy side. He had slumped right down in his seat, holding his phone up in front of his face so he didn't need to make eye contract with anyone. He was pretty sure the woman in the corner with twin little girls in blonde pigtails who had the sniffles thought he was a Satan worshipper or something. Maybe that would've been easier for him to process than this.
He was still feeling sick, but it was probably more factored to anxiety. He had the letter from the doctor at the hospital in Vegas shoved deep down in the pocket of his leather jacket. He had been directed to get off the plane in New York and go straight to a hospital there. Instead, he had gone to Caleb's. Right now, he couldn't explain many of his actions. It was like he was on auto-pilot and someone else was in control. There was forever that fear of death, though, so here he was.
At least Karla was a family friend. His foster mother was one of her closest friends, they had known each other for many years. Karla had become like an aunt to Zed on some level, though inevitably he was as reserved and quiet with her as he was with anyone else. He was oblivious to the fact his foster mom talked a lot about him to Karla, concerned about his state of mind and worrying if he was depressed. Moms did that sort of thing. At least, the ones who still cared about the welfare of their kids. He sat there, his leg bouncing anxiously while he waited to be called. Fuck, he was hoping she would just tell him there was nothing to worry about.
What: Desperately needing help
Where: Dr Karla Jameson's clinic, White Plains
When: Day after THIS
It probably should have been before this that Zed got himself to a doctor, but there had been delusion mixed with fear. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend none of it was happening. Now, he was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's clinic, which was kind of on the busy side. He had slumped right down in his seat, holding his phone up in front of his face so he didn't need to make eye contract with anyone. He was pretty sure the woman in the corner with twin little girls in blonde pigtails who had the sniffles thought he was a Satan worshipper or something. Maybe that would've been easier for him to process than this.
He was still feeling sick, but it was probably more factored to anxiety. He had the letter from the doctor at the hospital in Vegas shoved deep down in the pocket of his leather jacket. He had been directed to get off the plane in New York and go straight to a hospital there. Instead, he had gone to Caleb's. Right now, he couldn't explain many of his actions. It was like he was on auto-pilot and someone else was in control. There was forever that fear of death, though, so here he was.
At least Karla was a family friend. His foster mother was one of her closest friends, they had known each other for many years. Karla had become like an aunt to Zed on some level, though inevitably he was as reserved and quiet with her as he was with anyone else. He was oblivious to the fact his foster mom talked a lot about him to Karla, concerned about his state of mind and worrying if he was depressed. Moms did that sort of thing. At least, the ones who still cared about the welfare of their kids. He sat there, his leg bouncing anxiously while he waited to be called. Fuck, he was hoping she would just tell him there was nothing to worry about.