Third person post. Write about a memory you have but describe it using the third person. Use as many
sensory images (sights, sounds, textures, etc) as you can. Don’t use “I” or “me” unless you include
dialogue.
This is about the time I saw the geneticist, hours away, who confirmed that I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. This picks up after I step off the elevator at the hospital to see her.
Her heart was pumping and her legs were shaking, way more than usual. She slowly walked, trying not to lean on her walker, down the long hallways at the hospital. She was so scared that this doctor would also be an ass, but she needed to know if she officially had Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome or Hypermobility Syndrome. Though they may actually be the same thing, insurance companies are going to treat EDS as a more severe illness, or so she thought as she sat in the waiting room. She looked around at the waiting room, most of it decorated for children, and a cold fear gripped her stomach that she may pass down EDS to her child, if she had it. Finally, a woman appeared. "Amy?" she called. Her heart lurched, and her stomach felt like it flipped over, as she gathered her records, smoothed her hair, and headed inside the genetic counselor's office.
sensory images (sights, sounds, textures, etc) as you can. Don’t use “I” or “me” unless you include
dialogue.
This is about the time I saw the geneticist, hours away, who confirmed that I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. This picks up after I step off the elevator at the hospital to see her.
Her heart was pumping and her legs were shaking, way more than usual. She slowly walked, trying not to lean on her walker, down the long hallways at the hospital. She was so scared that this doctor would also be an ass, but she needed to know if she officially had Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome or Hypermobility Syndrome. Though they may actually be the same thing, insurance companies are going to treat EDS as a more severe illness, or so she thought as she sat in the waiting room. She looked around at the waiting room, most of it decorated for children, and a cold fear gripped her stomach that she may pass down EDS to her child, if she had it. Finally, a woman appeared. "Amy?" she called. Her heart lurched, and her stomach felt like it flipped over, as she gathered her records, smoothed her hair, and headed inside the genetic counselor's office.
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| The Beighton Scale |
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