My story is about a girl called Mathilda and her family, who called for the doctor to visit them at their home.
The doctor hasn’t met this patient before as he is a new doctor in the surgery’s practice. The doctor’s receptionist gives the name Olson plus details of their address, so he can visit them.
When the doctor arrived, he was met by a distressed looking mother waiting anxiously for him to see her daughter. The lady was well groomed rather polite, who seemed apologetic, because they couldn’t attend the surgery. She welcomed him into her home explaining her daughter was in the kitchen. Consequently, they had to go through a long passage back into the rear end of the kitchen. She made excuses for the miasma dampness linger a stench …show more content…
Mum then introduced him to dad and myself; he appeared tall in stature, rather stocky casually dressed with wiry, but bushy silver hair; had piercing blue eyes with rounded gold coloured glasses perched on the end of his nose; kind of mad professor type. He looked at me with his blue eyes; I just wanted to curl up in dad 's arms and hide, or run away from him as he approached us. My dad politely tried to stand with me cuddle in his arm, but the doctor said,” it alright, don’t get up on my account”, as he placed his coat upon the chair; his bag on the kitchen table on top of a old …show more content…
I looked vague starring at the floor and still, not wanting to move off dad 's knee. The doctor, comment to my mum, “did you take a look at her throat”? Mum said, “she couldn 't see anything wrong”.
The doctor went over to his bag to collect his stereascope, which he placed it around his neck. I will need to take a look at your throat; so he smiled, showing his white teeth and spoke in a professional way rather polite; tried to coax me into opening my mouth, but I was stubborn and refused to do what the doctor had asked. He asked me again; “I need to take a look”, but I still wouldn’t open her mouth, glued my lips closed well maybe fixed together so unbudgeable.
Accordingly, he asked, “has she had a sore throat”? Simultaneously in unison, both my parents replied No. My mother remarked, my daughter says, “her throat isn’t sore nor does it hurt”. My countenance did not look the same, nor did I move just looked impassive rather
The doctor hasn’t met this patient before as he is a new doctor in the surgery’s practice. The doctor’s receptionist gives the name Olson plus details of their address, so he can visit them.
When the doctor arrived, he was met by a distressed looking mother waiting anxiously for him to see her daughter. The lady was well groomed rather polite, who seemed apologetic, because they couldn’t attend the surgery. She welcomed him into her home explaining her daughter was in the kitchen. Consequently, they had to go through a long passage back into the rear end of the kitchen. She made excuses for the miasma dampness linger a stench …show more content…
Mum then introduced him to dad and myself; he appeared tall in stature, rather stocky casually dressed with wiry, but bushy silver hair; had piercing blue eyes with rounded gold coloured glasses perched on the end of his nose; kind of mad professor type. He looked at me with his blue eyes; I just wanted to curl up in dad 's arms and hide, or run away from him as he approached us. My dad politely tried to stand with me cuddle in his arm, but the doctor said,” it alright, don’t get up on my account”, as he placed his coat upon the chair; his bag on the kitchen table on top of a old …show more content…
I looked vague starring at the floor and still, not wanting to move off dad 's knee. The doctor, comment to my mum, “did you take a look at her throat”? Mum said, “she couldn 't see anything wrong”.
The doctor went over to his bag to collect his stereascope, which he placed it around his neck. I will need to take a look at your throat; so he smiled, showing his white teeth and spoke in a professional way rather polite; tried to coax me into opening my mouth, but I was stubborn and refused to do what the doctor had asked. He asked me again; “I need to take a look”, but I still wouldn’t open her mouth, glued my lips closed well maybe fixed together so unbudgeable.
Accordingly, he asked, “has she had a sore throat”? Simultaneously in unison, both my parents replied No. My mother remarked, my daughter says, “her throat isn’t sore nor does it hurt”. My countenance did not look the same, nor did I move just looked impassive rather