Death.
I suppose it really would have been better to call a doctor to the house rather than sit in this stuffy, overcrowded hospital in agonizing anticipation of my turn. Of all the times to feel unwell — right on the eve of the holidays. My head was simply splitting apart, it was already unbearable to endure, and there was no time at all to wait for an ambulance. So my turn finally came.
The hospital corridor was long and narrow; its walls, painted a faded pale green, pressed upon the consciousness. The fluorescent lights hummed monotonously and irritatingly, their cold light reflecting in the linoleum polished by hundreds of feet. People sat on uncomfortable plastic chairs, pressed close to one another, each occupied with their own pain. Someone was coughing, someone was clutching their stomach, someone simply sat with a dull gaze, staring at a single point. The smell of medicines, sweat, and old linoleum blended into a heavy, suffocating cocktail. I sat clutching my temples with my hands, and it seemed to me that my head was about to burst like an overripe watermelon.
"Come in. What are your complaints?"
The doctor's voice was tired and indifferent, like that of a man who over a long working day has seen hundreds of the same sufferers. He didn't even raise his eyes to me, continuing to write something in the chart.
"I'd like to say 'with life,' but for now — with a severe headache."
I tried to smile at my own joke, but it came out pathetic. The doctor showed no reaction.
"Let's examine you now. So, blood pressure is elevated. Pulse is not great. Pupils are dilated. Take this medicine. Nurse, give the patient some water to wash it down."
The nurse, a middle-aged woman with a tired face and thin hair gathered in a bun, silently handed me a plastic cup of water. The pill was small, white, unremarkable. I swallowed it without even tasting anything.
"Doctor, so how is it? Everything all right?"
"Everything is fine. Don't worry."
But something in his voice was alarming. He said it too quickly, too confidently, as if he wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible.
"Doctor, I'm feeling dizzy. I'm getting worse."
The floor began to sway slowly, as if I were standing on the deck of a ship. The walls of the room floated, losing their outlines. The doctor's face blurred into a murky spot.
"The medicine will start working now, and everything will pass."
"It doesn't seem to be helping, my head is splitting, do something quickly, I can't take it anymore..."
The words came with difficulty, my tongue was tangling. The pain grew, pulsing in my temples, radiating to the back of my head, filling my entire being. I grabbed the edge of the examination couch, trying to hold on, but my fingers were slipping.
