My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

“The earlier, the better. It’s causing a bit of pain.”

As in, excruciating, debilitating pain.

She’s silent as she looks through the schedule.

“Well, Dr. Talbot is on vacation for the next two weeks, but Dr. Otham could do the surgery if you’d like?”

“Uh. I don’t know Dr. Otham,” I tell her.

“I assure you, he’s quite good. He could fit you in next week.”

“But if I wait one more week after that, I can have my regular doctor?”

She checks.

“Yes. Dr. Talbot can do it the week he returns.”

“Let’s do that.”

“Ok.” She puts me on the calendar, and I put it on mine. When I hang on, I count the days.

Eighteen days.

I call her back.

“Can I have some muscle relaxers to help with the pain in the meantime?”

She pauses. “Muscle relaxers won’t help with this, Mr. Tate.” The hell they won’t. I want to tell her I’ve been taking them, but don’t. “And I’m not sure, given your history, that Dr. Talbot will want to prescribe you anything stronger. I’ll check with him and get back to you.”

“Don’t bother.”

I hang up on her. My history? Why the fuck had I been so honest in filling out my medical history when I became a patient? They’re just using my honesty against me, and now I’m stuck with pain.

The pain swells as the minutes pass, and eventually, it’s all I can think about. Rubbing it doesn’t help. I’m drowning in an ocean of misery. The hair at the back of my neck is damp with trying to control it. It’s not working.

Finally, with shaking hands, I pull out the empty pill bottle from where I’d stuck it in my desk. Why I hadn’t thrown it away, I don’t know.

I examine the label.

Two refills remaining.

I wonder if Natasha would mind?

I text her.

She answers immediately. Of course not! Go right ahead. I can pick them up, if you want.

That would be great, I tell her. Can you drop them off with Sasha?

Because I need them now.

Fuck their “with your history” bullshit. It’s been five years since I’ve used anything at all. They don’t know shit about me.

I can’t focus well on work, but I try.

A couple hours later, Sasha comes in with the pills, and she brings me a giant gel ice-pack, too.

“Natasha suggested it,” she tells me when I look at it strangely. “I have another one in the freezer when this one gets warm. Just yell at me.”