Back Scars [Updated]

 I lift up the back of my shirt, and show him the ugliest part of me, the deep purple burn scar that covers most of my back from falling asleep on a heating pad over night.

"How did that happen?"

I tell him. 

"Looks new, looks like it coulda just happened."

I try to explain that yes, just an ordinary heating pad you can buy anywhere did the damage, years ago, however. "I was thinking about getting a large tattoo to cover it because that's all people see when I turn around," I say.

"Really? You should!" He says excitedly. 

I realized later that it was an invitation for him to touch me, and yet, he never did, out of politeness and boundaries, of course.

Purely as a Doctor Of Course

 I hold his gaze as long as he'll look at me--and then he turns his head slightly to the clock, "Should I get you to group?"

What am I trying to read into his momentary stare? His emotions? The truth concerning how he feels about me. Could he ever love me? Is it even possible?

Is it even silly to think about? Doctors have their ethics and principles. Over the years, I'm sure plenty of pretty patients have landed in the University hospital psychiatric ward. He didn't throw away his career for any of them. 

I asked him if he gets bored with me. The same symptoms, year after year. Unchanging, The stifled depressive with annoying voices, threatening suicidal ideations that never come to fruition.

"No, not at all. In fact, I'm all the more intrigued," he says. Patients come into the hospital, stay a little while, and then leave, never to return. However, with me, he can see how I change and develop. Maybe, dare I say it, he has liked getting to know me over the years. Purely as a doctor, of course.