"Da--Dr. Jackson?" Janet rose from her desk, her eyes widening in alarm. "Are you all right?" She shook her head slightly. "I switched to Mondays over the summer."
"There was an epic battle," said Daniel, collapsing down into a chair. "Me against the stairs. Alas, the stairs were the victor and I was left to lick my wounds -- not literally."
"Maybe once. Or twice," said Daniel, picking up a cushion and hiding behind it as soon as he saw the penlight. "And I know it's unsanitary. That's why I didn't do it. And the fact that I can't actually reach the back of my head with my tongue."
"I'd worry a great deal if you could," said Janet, smothering a laugh. "Put down the cushion, Dr. Jackson, the penlight doesn't hurt, I promise. But why don't we go into the exam room and I can get that abrasion cleaned off and examined, all right?"
"You know, I'm feeling much better," said Daniel. "I don't think I need to be here anymore. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Dr. Fraiser and I'll just be on my way now."
He said that all very fast and stood up.
It was a pity he then wobbled so much that taking a step in any direction was beyond him.
Janet cleared her throat. "Sit down, Dr. Jackson," she said firmly. "Now. And then you can tell me just how much dizzines and nausea you're experiencing."
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He said that all very fast and stood up.
It was a pity he then wobbled so much that taking a step in any direction was beyond him.
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