A Diagnosis

When the man returned I greeted him, but he ignored me as he picked me up. He carried me out of the room and into a bedroom that was sparsely furnished. Then he tossed me onto the bed.

"You'll be staying in here for the next few months. Don't worry about your family, they are being notified that you are ill. I will bring you your meals at six in the morning, twelve in the afternoon, and five in the evening. Other than that, you are to remain in the bed." he announced.

"So I'm sick?" I concluded.

"Yes you are very sick." then he shook his head and left.

A few hours later after I had finished my dinner he returned and said he would be monitoring me during the night. That confused me because I didn't think I was that sick. Why stay in the same room as me if I'm not feeling bad.

"Why do you have to monitor me?" I asked.

"You could stop breathing and I would be to blame." he murmured.

Why would it be his fault? He is only a guard, isn't he? Or is he my doctor?

"What do I have." I whisper.

"You were diagnosed with Arrhythmia. That means you have an irregular heartbeat and you are prone to falling unconscious. It also causes spells of dizziness." he replied.