eventually my name is called - (wrongly) by a little nurse with the hair of a rat from a room that smells of despair It says ‘ginecología’ on the door but underneath is scribbled ‘anastesía’ in marker pen it looks like it was written by a kid I go inside and answer a few questions from a doctor whose voice is lukewarm tea I might have just signed my life away on a smudgy photocopy and I would like to make a joke as I get up to leave but I can’t think of one.