Humor/Satire / The Multi-Faceted Dewey Dowen
I sat with the bridge of my nose resting in the crook between my thumb and forefinger, breathing monotonously, which I suppose is the only way you can breathe, it’s a pretty consistent pattern. A little boy with blond curly hair that was already in the waiting room with his mother before I showed up, asked again, “Are you sure I don’t have to get a shot, cuz…”, the boy paused thinking of the right words to express his displeasure, “I don’t like them.” His mother reading a three month old magazine, just nodded, and added an approving noise that’s hard to translate into written words.
A gluey feeling between my hand and my nose went as quickly as it came when I separated the two, and I could still feel the tingle in between my eyes. What I was feeling was likely the red spot appearing between my eyebrows that only come around when you idly rest on it something. Some teenage girl will likely see it and surmise that I just finished shaving my unibrow, and the irritation from the razor is still lingering. How incorrect she would be as that task was completed this morning.
Between thirty minutes and two hours passed when the belonephobic child and his mother were called by the receptionist. The mere mention of his name seemed to set the kid in a tantrum of hysterics. Screaming, and grabbing the chair he was on to use it as leverage. Which was really quite fruitless, these are very cheap chairs in this waiting room. It didn’t help him much. “Now quit it!” his mother told him, “We aren’t going to McDonalds, with you acting like this.”
This story has played out countless times here at the Bishop’s Point free clinic.
1. Kid acts fine in waiting room
2. Name called by receptionist
3. Kids flips shit
4. Mother threatens deprivation of prior bribe to get kid to doctor
5. Kid doesn’t care, too busy with number 3
6. Mother and Kid come out, kid with candy in stow
7. Mother praises kid for being brave
The boys screams echo down the hallways before being silenced by the door of a room full of tongue depressors, stethoscopes, and those nameless ear flashlights. I glance around the rest of my fellow poor saps of the waiting room, I’m fairly confident I’m the member with the longest tenure, I’m bound to be called to the back soon. A cacophony of coughs and exasperated sighs of boredom fill the room, and I do my best not to join the ensemble.
“Mr. Dowen?” the frumpy lady that looks like she regrets her career choice everyday of her life calls out from behind the reception desk. I move the magazine that I didn’t even to bother to open from my lap to the open chair next to me.
“You called?” I say, forcing the corner of my mouth up in what I can only hope is a charmingly wry grin. The receptionist doesn’t find it so, which is likely for the best, who am I trying to impress here anyway? Casting pearls before swine and all. She points down the hallway, and tells me I’m in room four. I head down the same route the screaming kid dragged by his mother traversed, my disposition is much sunnier however.
I pass weight scales, and blood pressure cuffs hanging from the walls, I do hope they check my blood pressure today. The heightened sense of your beating heart the test creates, is a feeling nearly impossible to replicate short of being scared shitless, and I much more prefer a controlled environment. I find the door labeled number four, and do as I’m told and step inside.
Another cheap chair? A too tall bed lined with paper? The uncomfortable choices overwhelm me. I side with the chair, a bed is too tempting to lie down in, and you have to like perfectly still, lest you conjure up the noise of crinkling paper, and create the unpleasant illusion of wearing a diaper, and have the doctor think you are some kind of vampire incarnate when he walks into the room and finds you lying stock still on the bed.
Naturally, going from a waiting room to a specified doctor’s room plants hope in your mind that you’re soon to see the purpose of your trip. A doctor. But the wait there is just as stagnant as the previous, and possibly even more so. While on the plus side, you can look at all the diagrams of various organs and muscles, all though it is disconcerting to me why a doctor would need them on their walls, I pray it isn’t for reference.
The cons are the absolute silence, no intermittent coughs, or rustle of pant legs as they cross yet again. The phrase, “You don’t know what you have until it is gone.” is quite an apropos term, for instances both big (love and family) and small (sneezes and coughing). I decide to breath loudly out of my mouth to fill the void.
I stand up and walk around the office, though it is so small, that turn around is likely more apt. I sit back down, however, for I wouldn’t like the doctor to open the door and I’m standing up, looking quite the impatient, well, patient I suppose.
I hear a door down the hall next to me close, a sign, I trust that the doctor finished with the little kid and his mother (I never heard any screaming, so his inoculations were likely kept to a minimum.) A few more minutes crawl past (I curiously notice there isn’t a clock in the office.), when the door opens and the doctor steps through, with a big smile on his face, that I figured would be reserved for his younger patients.
He’s donning a Hawaiian shirt, and khaki pants, with a stethoscope draped around his neck. His scalp is almost all bald, save for some hair above his ears that wraps around his head. And a small tuft on top, that he thankfully decided not to comb over on top of his head. Alas, this is the Bishop’s point free clinic, and you can’t expect the man to be wearing a suit and tie, shaking your hand, and performing a double (make it a triple!) bypass with the other.
“Mr. Dowen! How good to see you! I’m Dr. Bailey.” he says, and puts out his hand. I shake it firmly, and reply with only the most common pleasantries.
He pulls out a rolling stool that was under a desk, I hadn’t even noticed it, or I likely would have had some fun rolling about the office while I was waiting. He sits on the stool and pulls out his clipboard, and scrawls down some information. “So, you’re having various abdominal pains, and chest pains, Mr. Dowen?” the doctor says as he reads off of his clipboards.
My hand instinctively goes to my stomach, “Exactly, there not lingering pains, but real short bursts, they come and go real fast.”
Dr. Bailey nods and say, “Any other problems? Shortness of breath? That’s common with chest pains sometimes, and you might just have a chest cold.”
My lungs seem to malfunction the minute he says this, and I have trouble getting a big gulp of air, and I cough out, “Yes, that too.”
“I see” Dr. Bailey says quietly.
Before he has a chance to ask me any more questions I pipe in, “I saw this documentary the other day on deadly diseases, and they started talking about Sickle Cell Anemia, and some of the symptoms were some of the ones I’ve been having, pain in muscles and joints, shortness of breath, fever, do I feel hot to you?” I stick my forehead near him.
“There are better ways to check your temperature Mr. Dowen.” He says with a smile, and rolls his stool back and grabs a thermometer and hands it to me, I plop in my mouth and under my tongue, as if I do it everyday (and I likely do). While I’m indisposed the doctor continues.
“As for sickle cell, it’s very doubtful, you don’t just up and get sickle cell, Mr. Dowen. You’re born with it, and if you did have it, the age of, let me see, twenty-five, wouldn’t be when you first start feeling the symptoms of it. Add that to the fact that sickle cell anemia is predominately an African-American disease.”
My thermometer beeps and he grabs it out of my mouth, “98.4, Mr. Dowen, looks good.” I nod, and conjure up a weak smile.
He looks much more informed than I gave him credit for. “But, it is possible, isn’t it? Are there tests you can give me, that would let me know for sure?” I ask.
“Not that I can do here, Mr. Dowen, you could go to a Hematologist and take some blood test, and you’d know for sure then.”
That would cost money, money which is currently non-existent in the Dowen bank account. “Al right, Dr. Bailey, thank you very much.” I stand up and put my hand out for him to shake. He takes but when I let go he holds on, so he can keep me here while he tells me is further diagnosis.
“I see this is your 17th visit this month, and this is the third time I’ve seen you, and I only just started working, and according to my notes, you’ve yet to have anything prescribed to you. Has anyone ever told you that you might be a…” he pauses, “mild hypochondriac?”
Just a few dozen times. Since I was fifteen, and I thought I had menstrual cramps. But I’m not, you see, menstrual cramps I was wrong about, but I had just misdiagnosed myself when in all actuality I had Crohn’s disease. But alas, I scrunch up my face, as if it is a foreign word to me, and pip out a small laugh, “No sir, I’m afraid not.”
Dr. Bailey smiles once again and says, “Well, then Mr. Dowen, are you sure that’s all you want me to do for you? I can check your lymph nodes, blood pressure, anything you’d like. Surely you didn’t come in for me to recommend that you see a hematologist?”
“No, this is fine Dr. Bailey, thanks.” I tell him as I start out the door, and back towards the waiting room to leave.
“Have a good day!” he yells as I go down the hall.
The hypochondriac Dewey Dowen waves an acknowledging hand over his shoulder.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
First off, as it stands, this piece is a short story, not a novel treatment. If I look at it as a first chapter, aside from discovering that the main character is hypochondrial, not much has happened. What’s next?
These are just some of the proof reading comments I noted.
“which I suppose is the only way you can breathe” this bit doesn’t establish you as a brain trust.
“breathe, it’s a pretty” vs breathe; it’s a pretty or breathe – it’s a pretty
” A little boy with blond curly hair that was already in the waiting room with his mother before I showed up vs. A little blond boy who was sitting with his mother in the waiting room before I showed up asked
“that’s hard to translate into written words.” that’s exactly what writes are supposed to do. This whole bit should also be put into the conventional format for dialog.
“that only come around when you rest on it something” vs. that only comes around when you rest it on
“being silenced by the door of a room” scilenced or muffled. The door is to the room.
“even to bother to open” vs even bother to open
“I pass weight scales, and blood pressure cuffs hanging from the walls,” these things do not hang on hallway walls. Try the exam rooms.
“and I much more prefer a controlled environment” Huh. This is unrelated and/or unnecessary.
“that turn around is likely more apt” same as a bove.
“the hall next to me close” vs the hall close
“He’s donning a Hawaiian” He was putting on a shirt as he came through the door or had he donned it already?
“And a small tuft on top, that vs. And, a small tuft on top, that
“I plop in my mouth and und” vs I plop it in my mouth and und
“He takes but when” vs. He takes it but when
- add/view comments (0)
Not too bad, especially considering your age.
You’re character’s voice is very well-written. You get an idea of his personality within the first page. You do a great job describing the particulars of the doctor’s office. You also write “glib” very well. You’re right, it is a bit Castcher in the Rye, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
Something that I think needs a little work is how you develop the character’s story. Like I said, I can see his personality in this but I know next to nothing about him until the end where I learn his age and that he’s a hypochondriac; and even that I don’t think was enough.
“He’s donning a Hawaiian shirt, and khaki pants, with a stethoscope draped around his neck.” – I wasn’t sure what you meant by this, or at least I didn’t think you meant that the doctor was putting clothes on. I tripped over this part a bit before deciding that you meant wearing.
Finally, I didn’t like the description of the doctor. You just come out and say he’s bald. I think a little more “show” and less “tell” would have worked better there.
Some minor grammar stuff, but I’m sure you can find that all that.
All in all, pretty good.
i can see this as a part of a larger story, i may have more feeling for Dowen if i had some better background on him, I might even care he is a hypochondriac. i know you wanted to make it funny, but i didn’t really find it funny.
First off, I really liked the title. Looking over the queue of different stories to review, it stuck out and immediately got my attention. And so, here I am.
I really like the voice you have with Dewey, and the way he looks at the world. I chuckled at the list of how a mother cons her son into going to the doctor, especially at “Kid doesn’t care, too busy with number 3”. Throughout the story the voice of Dewey is often present and easy to enjoy.
Finding out that Dewey is a hypochondriac is an interesting plot choice. It seems as if you’re setting up the story to be something in the vein of ‘Monk’ where the main character has this debilitating and annoying character trait that often brings out the best in himself, and his surroundings. Monk had his OCD, same with Jack Nicholson in ‘As Good as it Gets’, Forrest Gump his ignorance, etc.
The only real problems I’ve gained from the piece are simply structural. At the end of the first paragraph, we’re treated to the fact that this is (assumed) a written piece. Dewey writing down his memoirs and what not. Yet a few times throughout the story, it often seems like you, the author, chose a word that Dewey wouldn’t say in certain situations. The first person narrative would flow, then jostle over a speedbump where the vocabulary was a little off, but then go careening down Enjoyable Boulevard again.
The last sentence screams third person omniscient when the entire story was first person, so that might need to be fiddled with. “I waved goodbye to Dr. Bailey for today, I’ll undoubtedly see him sometime in the near future. It’s what we hypochondriacs do, apparently.”
Wonderful character and voice, though.
breathing monotonously = I’d think of a better word here.
This is a bit confusing, if this is about Mr. Dowen then why does he have menstrual cramps?
You want to write a story about a hyporchondriac … then I would shoot for short short story or flash fiction. There isn’t enough to this plot as you have presented it to build a novel on. Ask, where am I going with this? I like the part about the kid in the clinic, but its just a scene. Nothing to chew on here. Maybe I am missing the essence of this. I think you have shown you can write but its going to take structure and commitment from you first before we can know how to guide you.
The idea is good. Dewey is a strong character here. You could either condense the waiting parts of this story or make them more related to his hypochondria.
Proofreading notes:
three month old magazine, = three-month-old
Instead of saying that something is hard to translate into written words, I think you should try. Isn’t that what the written word is all about?
the red spot appearing between my eyebrows that only come around when you idly rest on it something. (not grammatical. Is it the red spot that only comes around or the eyebrows that only ocme around. The rest of the sentence is wonky. Is there a typo here?)
The boys screams = boy’s
everyday of her life = every day (everyday is an adjective)
didn’t even to bother (typo)
and do as I’m told and step inside. (the repetition of and here is awkward)
to like perfectly still, (typo?)
there not lingering pains = they’re
The last line of the story changes to third person narration. I’m not sure why.
I am well aware of this syndrome being in the medical field and having some of these tendencies myself(lol). You were right on the money when you described every aspect of this story. Dewey sounds like an interesting character. You could really do a lot with him. I’d love to read more. In answer to your question, I do think this is the right place for this.
There where two places where you are missing a word or an extra one found its way in to your writing, but that would be fixed with one quick reread.
I really like this, you did a good job of describing surrounding, and subtle actions. Its quite an interesting read for the context. In the beginning it has you what is wrong that this man is in a clinic. You don’t describe any of his symptoms while he is sitting there. So the diagnosis the Doctor gives fits all the better.
Your dialog is good, and your description as well. This could vary well be a vary interesting story when read in the form of a book. Well done.
It also seams to be that your not going over the medical part of this off the top of your head, (as in you know NOTHING). Which is nice. Just keep in mind that if it goes farther in to it, like it looks like it will, its much more enjoyable to read a book that has the feel of accurate information.
I didn’t really ketch anything i would call humor in it so far. The bit with the kid was entertaining, but nothing i would laugh at. But when one is writing something like this, you dont always have to introduce the humor in to the first chapter.
“The boy(‘)s screams…”; ”...glance around (at) the rest of my fellow(,) poor saps (in) the waiting room,”—several minor corrections, like these.
“I decide(d) to breath loudly out of my mouth to fill the void.”—good line, a very ‘real’ thing to do.
also, the line about ‘not noticing the rolling stool or else i would’ve had some fun’ is a great example of the dry-humour i think you’re going for here. definitely aim for this, and try to trim-up any unnecessary/overly-explained ‘jokes.’ (easier said than done, i know…)
overall, a great start. good character development, interesting narration. (and, on a personal level, good description of crohn’s… it is a confusing thing before it’s diagnosed. for months, i thought i was the 1st guy to experience menstrual cramps!)
“I head down the same route the screaming kid dragged by his mother traversed, my disposition is much sunnier however.” Just a little bit awkward. You may want to rephrase it.
After this, you have quite a few misplaced commas and run-on sentences. I recommend reading your work aloud for a better sense of flow. Seriously, it helps a lot.
“He’s donning a Hawaiian shirt, and khaki pants,” ‘Donning’ doesn’t mean ‘wearing,’ it means ‘putting on,’ so it sounds like the doctor is just getting dressed.
This is quite funny and well written, aside from little glitches like that. I liked the character immediately, and he seemed very three-dimensional and real. All you really need to do here is clean up your sentence structure and punctuation here and there, and you’ll have a polished-seeming piece.
Showing 1 - 10 of 16
Next →
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
| Version 3 |
| Version 2 | Version 1 (Deleted) |