Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Seventy-One

I walk into my apartment, feeling my shoulders slump of their own accord as I step over the threshold, my arms limp and strangely heavy, as though I have the world’s largest bowling balls stuck on each of my fingertips. My bag’s strap digs almost painfully into my skin through my coat, feeling heavier than I ever remember it being even though there’s not a whole lot in it. I am inexplicably tired, worn out, exhausted, drained, and just plain out of it. It’s almost numbing, actually; to feel so tired and empty that you start to not even feel anything after a while.