Random Writing Prompt: A splitting headache, what if it's not in there, and the Queen's English

A splitting headache, what if it's not in there, and the Queen's English For any writer, orator, or anyone with a firm grasp on the Queen’s English, there are few things as terrifying as reaching for a word in a key moment, and not finding it. That feeling of ‘What if it’s not there?’ is a crippling doubt. Sure, it happens to everyone from time to time, but it was beginning to happen to Henry more and more every day. And, accompanying this crippling language barrier was a splitting headache. He was going to have to do something he hated doing. He was going to have to turn to his brother for help. Doctor Davies’ office was full of patiently waiting patients when Henry showed up at half past one the following day. He handed the cheery receptionist his health information, and begrudgingly accepted the intake forms for new patients and retreated to an empty seat to fill them out. He checked off all of his newly acquired symptoms, things that might just be chalked up to old age. However, the DOB section of this questionnaire belied Henry’s grousing as the aches and pains of the old and battered body by declaring that he was, in fact, only in his mid twenties. He filled out the reason for the visit as ‘consultation & referral’, knowing full well that his brother couldn’t very well treat his own family. But Henry didn’t trust doctors, except his brother. So he was willing to trust a doctor in whom he himself placed his trust. “Anything to be rid of this crippling, vocabulary munching, fiend!” as he later declared to his brother in the exam room. “What have you tried?” asks Doctor Davies as he measures his brother’s heart beat, blood pressure, and reflexes. “Mostly homeopathy and superstitious nonsense to this point,” the patient admits, telling of sleeping with sachets full of herbs under his pillow and gargling with lavender oil. “You associate with too many gypsies and apothecaries,” was the prognosis. “Yes, yes, and your medical assessment?” Henry prodded. Doctor Davies wrote out a referral notice and handed it over. “See Doctor Molly Hampshire. She’s a neurologist over at St Joseph’s. It typically takes several months to book an appointment, but if you give her receptionist this, you’ll get in on one of her emergency slots. She’ll want to do a barrage of tests, and I’ve recommended a mild anti anxiety medication to combat the tension caused by having the symptoms to begin with. That should let you relax enough not to add stress to compound the issue at hand.” “I don’t want to be on bloody sedatives, Conrad!” Henry fumed. “It’s not a sedative, Henry. I’m well aware of your wishes in these matters, and I’ll forward along an email to Molly so she isn’t at odds with those preferences,” Davies soothes. He stands stalwart in the face of Henry’s glower. “Just see the woman, Henry. She’ll do right by you. I wouldn’t send you to a quack. And to be honest,” he sets a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I’m concerned.” The empathy in his brother’s gaze is almost too much for him to take. He begins a fine tremble through his entire body and is uncertain whether it is fury or fear. A bit of both, he imagined. “Do you want me to call Sally?” asked Conrad, referring to his ex sister-in-law. They had remained friends after Henry signed the divorce papers, much to Henry’s chagrin. But perhaps it had been for the best, after all. “Don’t frighten her, Conrad. N-n-nor the children,” he stuttered out, a symptom that cropped up when he was under extreme duress. “I’ll take care of it, Henry.” The doctor let his hand slide off of his patient’s shoulder, and finally broke the prolonged eye contact. “Keep in touch, ya?” Henry nodded as he pulled his cardigan back on and rebuttoned his collar. He stood, giving his brother a familial clap on the back, something they used to do in the old days, taking the elder Davies by surprise. His eyes held a different warmth in his eyes as he bid his patient adieu. Henry stepped out of the exam room, and then out of the doctor’s office, embarking on the journey towards the rest of his life, however extended, or brief that may be.