What Amy knew

My sister is a student at a school of medicine. This means that she knows how to perform terrible – or, I suppose conceivably, wonderful – procedures upon me, only she’s not legally permitted to do so.

As of yet, as of yet.

This in turn means – although it would not necessarily follow for anyone other than my sister – that it is to her professors she turns in officially diagnosing me with various ailments and subjecting me to frequent and outlandish medical tests.

After my recent migraine blog post, she’s gone and done it again. Here it is in the form A VERY SHORT PLAY:

CAST

DOCTOR A

NASREEN

FARZANA

SCENE

A medical examination room. White. Very white.

NASREEN sits in an exam chair. DOCTOR A and FARZANA, also seated, lean in towards her. DOCTOR A is writing furiously.

DOCTOR A:             Now, going back to your symptoms, Nasreen. Have you ever blacked out?

NASREEN:               Have I WHAT?

DOCTOR A:             Blacked out. You know, as in lost consciousness. During one of these migraines?

NASREEN:               Maybe.

DOCTOR A:             Maybe?

NASREEN:               Would I remember not being conscious?

DOCTOR A:             Probably you would. Would someone else know?

NASREEN:               I suppose you’d have to ask them.

DOCTOR A:             No, I mean about YOU. Who might know whether you’ve blacked out?

NASREEN:               (thinking.) Farzana, I suppose. (FARZANA shakes her head.) My friend, Amy.

FARZANA:                (shaking her head.) She doesn’t have a friend Amy.

NASREEN:               Do too! You don’t know all my friends!

FARZANA:                (rolling her eyes.) You don’t have a friend Amy!

DOCTOR A:             (raising his hand to speak.) Tell me about Amy. Do you hang out with her?

NASREEN:               (pause, then shaking her head.) No…

DOCTOR A:             Do you talk with her on the telephone?

NASREEN:               I don’t think so. Maybe we talk on Facebook Messenger when I’m feeling bad.

DOCTOR A:             (scribbling furiously.) Maybe?

NASREEN:               I’m not sure.

DOCTOR A:             What is Amy’s last name?

NASREEN:               I’m not sure.

DOCTOR A:             Just think about it. Relax. What do you think her last name COULD be?

NASREEN:               (long pause.) Daga? Maybe Daga.

FARZANA:                That’s not even a real name! She’s lying to cover up the fact she doesn’t know whether or not she passes out! (FARZANA and DOCTOR A begin arguing back and forth in a manner that is unprofessional and does not in any way inspire confidence in a patient.)

NASREEN:               (interrupting the argument) Dala! Her last name is Dala.

FARZANA:                (ending the argument with DOCTOR A in mid-sentence) Holy shit!

DOCTOR A:             (long pause while he processes this new information.) You said Daga before. Why?

NASREEN:               I knew there was a G. Maybe her middle name-

FARZANA:                (interrupting.) Holy shit.

DOCTOR A:             Oh, you were right, Farzana. Your sister is fun. I’m considering migraines as a possible misdiagnosis. I believe Nasreen here might have accidentally –

FARZANA:                (interrupting.) Holy shit.

DOCTOR A:             – and entirely unconsciously – just diagnosed herself with temporal lobe epilepsy specifically originating in her friend, the amygdala.

NASREEN:               (looking around.) What does all that mean?

FARZANA:                It means I knew you didn’t have any friends.

Curtain.