Ann felt strange sitting in the waiting room of the Mercy Stop Smoking Clinic. “I’m just wasting my money,” she thought. “I can quit anytime.” But she knew that was a lie. She had quit countless times only to take up the habit again. Sometimes she lasted only a few days or weeks. Every time was a horrid experience that always ended in failure.
But one day she had found a flyer under the windshield wiper on her car. She had been shopping at Wal-Mart and while she was gone someone had left it. It seemed much too good to be true. The guarantees and testimonials were unbelievable. So later in the day, Ann called and made the appointment against her better judgement.
“Mrs. Christensen?” came the voice of the office Nurse. “You are Mrs. Christensen, right? Follow me please.” Ann stood and smoothed her skirt then followed the nurse through a door and down a brightly lit corridor. Stopping at an open door the nurse said, “In here please. The doctor will be right with you.”
“Thank you,” Ann stammered as she stepped into the room, the door closing behind her. The room was cheaply appointed but not gaudy. There was a worn leather sofa along one wall. Opposite was an old desk and chair that looked to be on their last legs. A coffee table sat in front of the sofa scattered with six-week-old magazines.
After a few moments the door opened and a short man walked into the room. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Christensen. I’m Dr. Peterson.”
Ann stared at the little man for a moment then extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you doctor.” Dr. Peterson certainly was nothing to look at. He had a ruddy complexion. His clothes were shabby to say the least. And his hair was greasy and stuck down to his head. The “pop-bottle-bottom” glasses perched on his oversized nose seemed to fit the rest of his appearance. In a word, Dr. Peterson was a classic nerd.
Seating himself at his desk, the doctor picked up a chart, holding it very close to his face and peering through his thick glasses he assured himself this was Ann Christensen’s chart. The doctor took a bic pen from his pocket and made several notes.
“Now, Mrs. Christensen, can you tell me how long you have been smoking?”
“Since it was seventeen. Over twenty years.”
“I see. I see,” the doctor said scribbling another note on the chart. “And do you take any medications? Any at all?”
“No, doctor. None.”
“Good. Good. And how is your general health?”
“Just fine doctor. I have no problems…except for smoking.”
“Ok then. I think we can go ahead.” Digging in a desk drawer, the doctor pulled out a pill bottle. Opening the cap he dropped one red capsule into a paper pill cup. “Here. This is Nembutal. It will relax you. Take it right down,” he said handing her the pill cup and a paper cup of water from the carafe on his desk.
“You stretch out on the sofa and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The doctor opened the door and stepped into the corridor closing the door behind him.
Ann looked at the capsule then popped it in her mouth, washing it down with the water. Then stretching out on the sofa she closed her eyes and tried to relax. “Why am I here?” she thought again for the hundredth time. “This was a dumb idea. The doctor is a geek and this is not going to work anyway.” These and other similar thoughts crowded her mind…
Suddenly there was the doctor’s voice. “You can wake up now, Mrs. Christensen. How do you feel?”
“I feel just fine, doctor,” Ann said standing. Oddly, she noticed in a moment that she did feel fine. Not just fine but better than fine. She felt very well, in fact.
“But doctor, what about the treatment?”
“Why it’s over and I must say you did very well, Mrs. Christensen. Better even than I expected.”
“Oh, call me Ann, please doctor,” Ann said quickly not knowing quite why but warming to the doctor.
