Fiction Martin Hess sat with arms crossed in the family doctor’s waiting room. This was the third doctor he’d visited in as many months. Frustration and fear called up an image of Ben, who recently sat right where he was, before his nightmare began. Ben
Joe sat wheelchair-bound in the exam room, pale and gaunt with his nasal oxygen cannula hissing at high flow. He was a shell of the sturdy working man who I met less than a year ago, when he regularly accompanied his wife to her appointments.
Mr. R. is 68 years old and has not seen a physician in many years. “I’m old school—I never went to the doctor unless something was wrong.” At his age, he is beginning to see his friends develop various ailments and decided a check-up wouldn’t