Page 97 of Relapse

“Yeah,” I mumbled, drinking from my glass.

She smiled. “Maybe I can make you feel better.”

Day Seven

The pills in my mom’s cabinet were getting harder to take from. I knew soon she would start to realize that too many were missing. So I took myself to an urgent care. I stared at white walls for two hours, waiting my turn. I paid with cash, so my visit wouldn’t be traceable. I used Alex’s last name.

They took an xray of my ribs, and it hurt like hell.

The doctor pressed my ribs lightly. “Exhale,” he ordered. I winced, breathing in as deeply as I could until the pain overtook me. My breath hissed out.

“Good.” The doctor scribbled down some notes on his clipboard. They always have one of those, I thought.

“Only mild swelling on the surface, that’s a good sign.”

I stared up at the lights that hung down over me, waiting for him to tell me what I already knew. The cold slab of cushion they called a bed was making my back ache. Slowly, I eased myself upwards, taking shallow breaths. The doctor gave me a skeptical eye, but said nothing. He offered his arm for support.

“And… how long have you had this injury?” he inquired, flipping through a few pages in front of him. “You’re awfully young.”

“Just a few days,” I answered. “It’s broken, isn’t it?”

The doctor pressed a finger to the center of his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

“Actually, no it isn’t.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “No? Then what is wrong with it?”

“Displaced. The rib has simply been extended a little too far out of its normal position. It can be quite painful,” The doctor scribbled more notes. “Much like a broken bone.”

“So what can I do to fix it?” I asked, hoping he’d pity me.

“You will do a whole lot of nothing,” he warned sternly. “The remedy for a displaced or even a broken rib is pain management and significant bed rest. You have to allow your body to heal.”

I waited patiently for him to tell me what my pain management cocktail would be. Get on with it old man.

“You are going to have to see physical therapy at least once a week. There are some stretches you can do at home to help ease the rib back into its normal spot. That, combined with pain killers and anti-inflammatory that I will prescribe you. Your pain should be significantly better in about 3-4 weeks.”

“What are you giving me for the pain?”

“Hydrocodone. But only one week’s worth. It can be highly addictive.”

I chuckled. “Cool. Where do I sign?”

The doctor studied me, clearly not a fan of my attitude. His eyes fell and he flipped through another paper. “Are you above the age of eighteen or older?”

“Yes.”

After a few more notes, the doctor turned to his computer. “I am going to send this directly to your pharmacy of choice. I am also giving you 800mg of ibuprofen, you can start combining that with a normal tylenol dosage after the week of hydrocodone. Remember to alternate medication every three hours.”

I nodded, knowing full well I wouldn’t be taking that shit. I’d find something new, something stronger after my week of meds was gone.

“Are you in pain as of now?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,” I said, even though it was a lie. I had popped two painkillers this morning, so I was actually pretty numb. But I knew if I said that to the doctor, it would be a red flag.

“Why did you wait to get seen?”

I sighed inwardly. “I don’t know. I thought maybe it was a sprain or something.”