Wreck

by Catherine Newman

The doctor appears and looks to be about Willa’s age. I’m squinting to read her ID tag, nodding, answering her questions. She stops talking abruptly. “I saw you looking at my vag,” she says. “Oh my god,” I say. Was I? Probably! “I’m truly the most revolting person. I’m so sorry.” “No, no, it’s totally normal,” she says. Is it, though? I mean sure, I guess for, like, sex offenders, gynecologists. Frat boys. She holds up her ID tag. “I’m a second-year resident. But there will be an attending present during the procedure.” Badge! Okay. Kill me. “Oh, ha ha ha ha,” I say. I am deranged! “That’s fine. I think you guys might have slipped something into my drink!” “We’ve added midazolam to your IV,” she says. “It’s a sedative.” She’s looking at something on her tablet. “It looks like you consented to it.” “Oh, totally!” I say. “I’m just nervous and being not at all funny by accident.” “No worries,” she says. “If only!” I say, and she leaves the room.