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When It Comes To Mental Health, Molehills Become Mountains
Ring. Ring. Ring.
No one is answering.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
It suddenly pauses, leaving me eager for some kind of reply. I hope to hear a voice on the other end of the phone line.
The next few seconds pass without a response from a human being or automated answering service. There is no boring elevator music to tide me through, no beeping or thrumming sound to give me confidence that I will eventually be connected to the first line of entry. It’s just silence. Dead. Freaking. Air. And then the line quietly disconnected, prompting the disappearance of the ten digits from the screen.
“No!” I said before I slammed the handset onto the hook. “God damn this!”
I propped my elbows on my desk, buried my face in my hands, and pressed my fingers against my temples. My jaw is clenched. Anxiety, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced for some time, is welling upside of me. I attempted to release some tension by groaning.
“Are you all right the Eze?” asked Flora, a concerned co-worker.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said through a voice slightly muffled by my palms. “I just can’t seem to get the hospital on the line. I keep calling and the phone keeps disconnecting. I’m starting to wonder if…
