I Don't Have The Sugar!

I decided to have my coffee in the morning sun. Leaning against the door frame, I took a deep breath before having another sip. A blue SUV pulled up outside the clinic’s gate. My workday had officially begun. Swatting at a couple of bees hovering near my mug, I crossed the waiting room and booted up the computer.

“You listen to me today doctor?” his tone suggested it was more a demand than a question.

“Of course, Mr. Espuela,” I answered as he sat down.

“If you recall, we were talking about your family history yesterday and –“

“Yes, I tell you my father die from high pressure,” he said, cutting me off.

“They try to tell him maybe he had the sugar, so I take him to another doctor, and she say he had high pressure.”

There we go, now we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

“Originally, you came in because you're making frequent trips to the bathroom?”

“Yes, I go maybe every half hour.”

“Alright, I’d like to start with a simple blood test and we can go from there, ok? I’m just going to need a finger.”

He leaned over the table and held out an index finger, watching nervously as I cleaned it and prepared a lancet.

“This will tell us your blood sugar level,” I explained, as I grabbed the glucometer.

“No! you’re lying!” Mr. Espuela shouted as he shot up from his chair.

“I go see another doctor! You’re lying! I don’t have the sugar!”

With a couple of strides, he was out of the clinic again. I watched from my chair as he opened his car door, releasing a cloud of bees, and took off. I started putting away the glucometer kit and noticed a scattering of white granules next to the used lancet.