Oh God, things had been so horrible over the past week, you were worried sick, but finally being at the doctor's was calming your nerves. Kate, and everyone at work, had pretended to be supportive during this mysterious shrinking illness, but you had begun to feel a little invisible to the world. Did short people feel like this all the time? You pondered for a bit when Dr. Marquez opened the door.
"Hola Ron, now I understand that you have this very unusual condition; please tell me everything you can."
"Well...I've been shrinking; I didn't notice until Sunday; so far I've lost about four inches. I haven't had much of an appetite - I've barely been able to keep anything down in fact."
"How much have you eaten this week?"
"I tried to force myself Tuesday but I threw up after I had a hamburger. I've just had water and toast in the mornings."
"Well...when you called in and said that you were shrinking I honestly didn't believe you but your symptoms line up with a disease that we previously thought was just an old Mexican myth. You will forgive me for being almost excited about your case, but we may learn very much about the human body from your condition. I did make contact with a researcher at Capital Hospital. She'll be wanting to talk to you since you have definitely verifiably shrunk."
"Am I going to be lab rat?" You shuddered. What if it never ended? You might literally be a lab rat, in size anyway, in a matter of days. It felt that way. Calm down, you thought to yourself.
Dr. Marquez did her best to assuage your apprehension. "No no, Ron, of course not. You'll certainly have informed consent at every stage of the process, even if you one day fit in my hand, hehe." You didn't laugh. She continued: "But of course we expect to reverse this long before that point. Dr. Lisa believes you're suffering from an unknown interaction of digestive and hormonal disorders. It should be possible for us to fix and maybe even reverse your height loss, even if it means regular injections or diet restrictions. For a few weeks however we need to simply monitor your condition and make sure we have the problem figured out, before we start interfering in your body's process."
It's okay, Ron, you thought to yourself. Only a few weeks. Then it'll all get better. You may even become a star! However at the moment you didn't want to face anyone, much less the whole world. But this won't be so bad in the meantime. You'll be watched closely and probably only lose another couple inches. Right?
"I see no reason for us to need to keep you under observation," Dr. Marquez went on, "since you seem to be only gradually changing and not having any other difficulties. We would like you to stick to a strict water-only diet, record your height every eight hours, and come in every Monday and Thursday for blood work. Here's Dr. Lisa's card; she has graciously agreed to support you with a stipend for new clothes, but she wants you to continue going to work and change your routine as little as possible. Sometimes disorders are brought on by stress and any large changes may aggravate your condition."
As if this could possibly be unstressful. But you couldn't complain too much. You stood up to thank Dr. Marquez and shake her hand, and discovered that now you had to look slightly up to her. On your way out you did manage to feel optimistic as you set up appointments for the blood tests and with Dr. Lisa. Maybe things were going to be okay after all. Kate, who had been in the waiting room, lit up when she saw a smile on your face for the first time in almost a week. You hugged and walked out to her car together.
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