CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE

The doctor, still resembling a beached whale more than a medical professional, stared up at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "Mr. Thorne, please, enlighten me! What exactly transpired here? Did…did Brenda offer you a complimentary cup of shut-the-hell-up with your medical consultation?"

"Doctor…" I paused, letting the word hang in the air. Sometimes, a little dramatic timing works wonders. "I've been standing here, politely asking for a doctor's appointment for my mother, who, as you can see, is not exactly the picture of robust health."

The doctor's gaze darted to my mother, still clutching my arm like it was a life raft. He winced. Clearly, 'robust' wasn't a word that sprang to mind.

"And yet," I continued, letting a hint of my annoyance creep into my voice, "Nurse Brenda here decided that making snide remarks about my mother's life expectancy was more important than, you know, actually doing her job."

The doctor sucked in a breath, his eyes widening with horror. He shot a l