Perhaps I could just check you out, Katie. Blood pressure first." He gets out his blood pressure monitor and takes my reading. It’s fine, of course....Then he asks me to open my mouth and he checks my tongue and throat, and finally uses his light to check my eyes. He sits back down. "Well, all seems to be ok there" he says. "Well that's good news", I say, feigning relief. He writes down something in my notes, and as he does so he asks, "Could you tell me what the fluid looks like, Katie?". Chewing ruthlessly on tension, difference and indifference. Following the string tightening period I surrendered back to my bedroom where I would scroll in my journal for the next four hours. Until my father would enter my room in his red flannel bath robe. Since my mother had gone to be he had invited me down to the basement (which he'd turned into a den/lounge area) for a drink. Never one to turn down alcohol I followed him. He opened the basement door and allowed me to lead the way. Once I'd. More

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