She folds her arms across her chest and leans back, as if trying to distance herself from me. I'm becoming more anxious by the minute, fidgeting like an unruly child. "Well, the results have come back and, well, there's good news."
"Okay," I reply, not yet letting myself smile or feel too relieved.
"There doesn't seem to be any physical reason for your problems."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, we can rule out certain things, such as a brain tumor; that would've shown up. Your blood test came back negative, that's good."
"Did anything come out positive?"
She shakes her head, "no," then begins to talk about other options. It's almost as if we're planning a death, talking about options and courses of action. We have no idea what we're going against, so how can we begin talking about options at all?
There were lots of "options" and "tests" sprinkled throughout our conversation. I am a lab rat, I think. I never thought I would be in a position like this, still young by my standards, dealing with God knows what.
"Tea, let's, just for example, look at the stress levels in your life." She speaks gently now, as if tip-toeing around the issue. "A lot people don't understand how much stress can contribute to physical ailments."
"Are you saying what I'm experiencing could be psychosomatic?" Now I'm getting pissed. "What I feel is real."
"I'm not saying it isn't. What I am saying is it's a possibility that stress could be wearing you down." She pauses for a moment. "Walk me through a typical workday in your life."
"I wake up around 5:00 or so…shoot off some e-mails…leave the house by 7:30…grab some coffee-"
"How much coffee do you usually drink?"
"I don't know; three or four cups, maybe."
Of course she writes that down, and then returns her attention to me. "Go on."
"Get to the office by 8:30…work-"
"When do you have breakfast?"
"Um, I usually don't. Maybe on the weekend, or if I have a breakfast meeting."
Again, she opens her file and writes down my lack of eating habits. "Okay. Keep going. What time do you have lunch?"
It's all coming out now; I don't like to eat too much. The last time I had three meals was probably when my mother was still living with us. "Um, I mostly work through it."
"Tea," she says, writing that down too, "You've got to do better. A proper nutritional balance is so important."
I can't even look her in the face. I know she wonders what was so fascinating on my knuckles because, at the moment, all my attention is focused on them. "I know."
"You have got to take care of yourself. Your blood pressure is already elevated, as it is, I'm going to put you on medication for it."
"You are?"
"I am. I put it off, waiting for these results, but it's better we do something now, rather than wait for it to get any higher. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?"
I nod, still ashamed and wondering what she thinks of me. "Yes."
"You might eat once a day, work out like a woman possessed, not bothering to fill your body with vital nutrients, spend at least twelve hours working and less than five sleeping?"
The longer she speaks the further down into my seat I sank. I never stopped to think about what I am doing to my body. I am the kind of person who has to stay busy or I'll drive myself crazy, or maybe a more accurate statement is if I stop, I know I'll be forced to think about what a mess I've made of my life.
"There's no reason to be embarrassed, now that you know, you can change your behavior."
She gets up and moves to the other side of her desk, she was switching hats. It's almost like watching Superman switch into his superpower mode. It's almost scary.
"I'm going to refer you to a Nutritionist and see how your body responds; your problems might very well be very simple. I'm also going to prescribe Zestril for your blood pressure."
"Okay."
Her pen races feverishly against the paper as she writes prescriptions and instructions. There is nothing left for me to say at this point; it's just more waiting and seeing what happens. I have never been a patient person, but this is really getting to me. I feel like going to an island somewhere, alone, so I can sort get to know myself.
It's funny to think f myself being in my thirties already, and having no clue as to who I am. I am defined my education and occupation; that's a shame. In the end, what can I say about myself? I work hard; is that all there is?
"Tea?"
"Yes? Sorry, I guess I drifted for a moment."
"That's okay." She gives me a small smile; I guess it's supposed to comfort me or something. "I said I'm going to prescribe a mild sedative for those nights you can't sleep, but I don't want you to take them unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Okay."
"As far as the pain you've been experiencing, I want you do document the time, location and duration each time it occurs. It's okay for you to take Tylenol or Advil."
"Okay."
She tears off a few sheets of paper, adorned with her illegible handwriting. "Make the appointment with the nutritionist right away and come back to see me in two weeks. I want to keep an eye on that blood pressure."
"Okay."
*****
I'm back at my office, wasting precious time staring out of my window. Ever since I left the doctor's office, I haven't been able to concentrate. I'm spending all of my time, focusing on the worst that can happen to me, neglecting a client who could very well spend the rest of his life behind bars.
"Stop being so damned self-absorbed, Tea," I say to myself.
"My, my, my, in all the years I've known you, I don't think I've ever seen you behave in manner remotely resembling self-absorbed."
"Viki," I say, covering my heart, which is still racing, "you startled me."
"I'm sorry; the door was open. I can come back later if this is a bad time," she offers, stepping further into my office.
"Don't be silly, come in and make yourself comfortable."
I'm a little nervous, though I know it's silly of me to feel this way. It's like she's silently judging both me and what I've made of my office. She's one of my substitute mothers and I want to impress her.
"I love your office," she comments, still taking in her surroundings. "You have a lovely view."
"Thank you."
I really look her for the first time since she's been here and I wonder how she does it. She has probably been through more in her life than I can ever imagine and she looks wonderful. I wonder how she has managed to hold herself together in the face of so much adversity. I wish I had her strength.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the side in that motherly way.
I almost want to crawl into her arms and tell her everything. I want to tell her that I'm breaking down. I want to say I'm tired, so damn tired, yet I cannot sleep. I want to tell her I'm afraid of what my future holds. I want to tell her how much him I miss Todd and how much I love him. I snap myself out of it long enough to lie. "I'm fine."
"Tea, I've raised three very stubborn children and had a fourth stubborn one, not to mention a brother who takes the cake; I have enough experience to know when someone says nothing is wrong, something is very, very wrong." She waits for me to react, but I don't. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm here if you need me."
"Thank you, Viki."
"You're welcome."
"I suspect the reason you came is to discuss business proposal."
"Among other things but yes, that is one of them."
"Well, I have thought about it and I've really had minor reservations." She opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her. "But, Derek and I have discussed it and we both believe that there are certain risks, but risks are what win cases."
Viki smiles as wide as I've ever seen her. "This is going to be wonderful for both of us," she said.
"Of that, I have no doubt." We shake on it, excited by the possibilities of our new partnership.
