“I am a little nervous,” I admit. “There’s a term for it,” Dr. Rotondo says. “We call it white coat syndrome, and maybe you feel it when you’re around me.” I chew the tip of my tongue, avoiding his eyes as he continues. “What if I told you there’s nothing wrong with you? Will that make you feel better?” Part of me wants to agree so that he doesn’t think I’m paranoid or needy, but if I don’t ask this next question, I’ll be stressing about it for weeks. Until I finally give in and call him anyway. I take a breath, say, “I know you told me that the protein in my urine wasn’t a big deal before
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Good girl
