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“Me too.”
“How was the drive?” Mom asks when she takes her turn to hug me.
“Frustrating. I got caught in some rush hour traffic and had to deal with stupid drivers the entire time.”
“Well, have a seat and relax. We fixed chicken Caesar salad.” I take a seat while Mom brings over the food and Dad brings the dishes. “How have you been doing, Brittany?”
I shrug. “There are good days and bad days. Can I ask your opinion on something?”
“Of course,” Dad answers.
“I’ve been wondering if maybe I should ask Dr. Gunner about a med change. I haven’t been able to tell a difference since he increased my dosage. I’m just worried that if he does think it’s a good idea that I’ll have a load of bad experiences again just when I’m trying to get through my last semester.”
“How bad and how often are the bad days?” Dad asks.
“Almost every day and,” I pause, wondering if I want to confess, then deciding to, “bad enough that I missed a day of school this week. It only happened once, though.”
Mom and Dad glance at one another. It has always amazed me how they can communicate without speaking. Mom is the one who speaks. “I think it’s worth asking Dr. Gunner’s opinion. Do you still want me to go with you?”
“Yeah.” Call me a baby, but if Mom can and offers to go with me to a potentially stressful doctor’s appointment, I d
on’t mind one bit.
They begin to fill me in on what’s going on around here while we eat. I tell them more about school, and soon, it’s time to leave for my appointment. Mom drives, and I take the chance to text Trace.
Me: Got here safely. On the way to appt.
Trace: Good to hear. Let me know how it goes.
Mom must be able to sense my anxiety because she doesn’t talk to me. That has always been her way of giving me space and allowing me to handle it myself. I feel like she thinks she’ll make it worse if she does anything else. Thankfully, Dr. Gunner has a short wait period once you arrive for the appointment, so I don’t have to deal with that. A nurse leads us to the back to take my weight. Trace will be happy to hear I’ve gained weight since the last time I was here. My blood pressure is a little high and my temperature is normal.
Dr. Gunner stands with a smile when we enter the room. He’s probably in his early thirties, like Trace, and I like him a lot. He’s compassionate and obviously cares for his patients. I don’t know of many doctors who will take phone appointments or use their break to talk to me on the phone at an unscheduled time.
We shake his hand and take a seat.
“How was the drive?” he asks.
“Stressful, but it’s good to be home.”
“Good. How’s school? What are your plans after graduation? I mean, do you plan to move back home?”
“School is okay. My grades are a little better, but it’s been a struggle. My roommate and I are planning to get an apartment together after graduation, so I’ll be staying there.”
“Great.” He pulls my file in front of him, but he doesn’t glance at it. He doesn’t have to. “You’re seeing a counselor on campus, too, right?”
Mom glances at me. I may have left this out. “Yeah.”
“That’s good, but I would like to recommend you to someone off campus. Only because this is your last semester and if you need to continue seeing someone once you graduate, you’ll already be set. Does that sound good?” I nod. “Okay, so, we increased your meds two weeks ago now. Have you been able to tell a difference? How are the sleeping pills working?”
I grab my wrist for comfort. “No difference at all. The sleeping pills sometimes work well, and sometimes, they don’t work at all. It’s like hit and miss.”
Dr. Gunner takes a deep breath, and a bad feeling twists my guts. “I had a feeling you weren’t bringing me good news,” he begins. “And I don’t think you’re going to like my suggestion either.”
“You want to change my meds, don’t you?” I ask, and he nods. “We were actually going to ask you about that.”
He laughs. “I’m glad I won’t have to convince you, then. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to leave the sleeping pills the same. I don’t want to mess with those just yet. We’ll try you on this new medication. If you feel any negative effects within the first week, call me. I don’t want you to suffer for two weeks just to have it regulated. Otherwise, we’ll check in in two weeks.”
“What are you putting her on?” Mom asks.
