Doctor’s Note: A woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife "Mom."

Doctor’s Note: A woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife “Mom.”<br><br>**Dermatologist’s Note**<br><br>A young woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife ‘Mom’ during a routine appointment. After a scene was made she fled the waiting room without completing her appointment. She did not pay and, unfortunately, had left before I was able to talk with her. <br><br>I’ll admit she did bear some resemblance to a young girl my wife and I had lost many years ago but even someone who didn’t know them would agree it was a resemblance strong enough to cause confusion. Something about the appearance of her nose and ears, different features in the shape of the face, but hadn’t my own heart throbbed when I’d seen her in the waiting room? It was very unsettling.<br><br>**Doctor’s Note 2**<br><br>A woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife ‘Mom’ during a routine appointment yesterday. After a scene was made she fled the waiting room before I was able to discuss my concerns with her. She did not pay for services rendered and I worry about legal action, but more than this I am worried about her health.<br><br>I have sent her several messages and called her twice but she will not answer. She does not return my calls or messages. I am a bit concerned about how to resolve the fact that she owes me over two hundred dollars. <br><br>The whole experience was very unsettling. Something about the shape of her nose and ears… I don’t know, it was just enough to cause a bit of confusion. I have spoken with my wife about this and she is as concerned as I am. <br><br>**Doctor’s Note 3**<br><br>A woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife ‘Mom’ during a routine appointment two days ago. She resembles a young woman I once knew who was the daughter of a friend. My wife is also the spitting image of this young woman’s mother. The experience was very unsettling. <br><br>I was able to track down the address of the woman who resembles my friend’s daughter and I have left several notes on her front door. She no longer ignores my calls and I have asked her to call me so I can discuss what happened in the office. <br><br>I worry about her health and her ability to pay me. I’ve become very concerned I will never see the two hundred thirty-seven dollars she owes me now. <br><br>**Doctor’s Note 4**<br><br>A woman with severe anxiety and a large pimple on her nose called my wife ‘Mom’ during a routine appointment three days ago. My wife bears a resemblance to her mother and I bear a strong resemblance to her father. <br><br>I paid her a visit. The address listed was correct and she answered the door when I knocked. I bore into her eyes and I could see the confusion and pain there. She asked me who I was and I told her the truth: that I was the doctor she had visited for her skin.<br><br>“Your skin looks much better,” I said, trying to hide the tone of my voice. “The breakout on your nose looks much better.”<br><br>“It does?” she said quietly.<br><br>“Yes,” I said. “It’s a very pretty nose, now. Very symmetrical.”<br><br>“Yes,” she said. “I guess I didn’t take very good care of it. I’ve never been great at taking care of anything.”<br><br>“Can I come in?” I asked. “I think we need to talk.”<br><br>“Yes, of course,” she said. She stepped aside and I walked in, closing the door behind me.<br><br>“Where do I sit?” I asked.<br><br>“There’s the couch,” she said. “Anywhere.”<br><br>I sat in the spot where her father used to sit and she sat in the spot where her mother used to sit. She had a confused expression on her face.<br><br>“Who are you, really?” she asked. “You’re not a doctor.”<br><br>“No,” I said. “I’m not a doctor. We’re your parents.”<br><br>She looked confused.<br><br>“I know this is hard,” I said. “I know you don’t remember. It’s been a long time.”<br><br>She looked at me, then at my wife. She looked at us as if she were remembering something important. <br><br>“What… is this some kind of sick joke?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”<br><br>“We’re your parents,” I said. “You’re our daughter.”<br><br>She laughed.<br><br>“Where have you been?” she asked. “Where have you been all my life?”<br><br>I looked over at my wife, who shrugged.<br><br>“You were taken from us by a cult when you were a little girl,” I said.<br><br>“Where are my real parents?” she asked.<br><br>“They were killed in the cult’s attempt to take you,” I said. “You are our daughter.”<br><br>She laughed.<br><br>I could hear my wife crying next to me. I didn’t know what to do. What to say. I felt as if I was losing her again, and I could not bear that. I had already lost her once, when she was taken from us. I could not lose her again.<br><br>“Do you remember anything?” I asked. “Anything about us? About your life before the cult?”<br><br>“I don’t even know if I believe you,” she said. “I… I don’t know what to think. Is this real?”<br><br>“Yes,” I said. “This is real.”<br><br>“Why… why are you back now?” she asked. “Why didn’t you come for me sooner?”<br><br>“We didn’t know where you were,” I said. “We had almost given up hope. We were very happy to see you sitting in our waiting room last week. We were going to tell you then, but… but we were too scared.”<br><br>“Why didn’t you call the police?” she asked.<br><br>“Because we didn’t want to draw attention to the cult,” I said. “We wanted to be sure we could protect you. You’re very special.”<br><br>“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t know what to think.”<br><br>“Do you remember anything?” my wife asked. “Anything at all?”<br><br>The woman frowned.<br><br>“I… I remember a scene, I guess. A woman screaming and I think she was on fire. I don’t know, it’s all very blurry.”<br><br>“That was your mother,” I said. “The cultists injured her very badly when you were taken. She’s healed since then but it’s been a long time coming.”<br><br>“That’s not true,” she said. “I… my mother is dead.”<br><br>I stood up.<br><br>“I am your father,” I said. “I am your mother,” my wife said. <br><br>The woman stood up.<br><br>“I think you should leave,” she said.<br><br>We stood there for a moment before we finally left.<br><br>I feel as though I have failed and I am not sure how to contact her again.