by C. B. Martin
‘Are they nice and strong?’ I asked shakily, snatching the prescription from him and shoving it in my pocket in case he changed his mind.
‘They will help you sleep. Make an appointment to come and see me next week.’
Will I feck come and see you next week, I thought, as I dashed out of the door. I’ll be La-La Land.
I raced to the chemist to pick up my prescription.
Come on, come on, I thought, as I stood in the long queue full of dawdling old biddies on a day out (probably picking up their incontinence pads). Actually, I wasn’t sure who smelled worse - them or me. I will shower tomorrow, maybe.
I finally got my hands on my precious numbing pills and promptly shoved two in my mouth. I know the packet said take one just before bed, but I figured they would take a while to kick in.
[Text from Siobhan]
Me and James came round to see u but no one’s in. Hope ur feelin better, we are worried about u xxx
[Text from Laura]
Mum, Katie and I are very concerned about you, can you please stop ignoring our calls and pick up your phone!
Lying on the sofa, reading the other texts from friends was the last thing I remembered until the following morning. I woke up freezing, still fully clothed and holding my phone. But at last, I had something that knocked me out and removed the pain (for a while, anyway). I had just had 12 hours of nothingness where I wasn’t obsessing about Travis.
Light-headed, I stumbled into the kitchen for a drink and collapsed in a chair beside the kitchen table. Feeling relief, I sat and stared into space for a while. Soon though, the pain and the pictures in my head started creeping back. They started as a dull ache, but increased with vivid intensity.
I couldn’t face work, so I called in sick… again. Swallowing another two pills, I went to bed and buried myself away from the world under the duvet. I lay there, waiting for them to take effect, desperately trying to push the images away. I felt so drained. All I wanted was to go back to nothingness, where I wouldn’t feel the pain of real life. But, much to my despair, an hour later I was still awake.
Convinced that the pills weren’t working, I took another one, but I was just drifting in and out of sleep. I wanted a proper sleep; a deep, undisturbed sleep. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I wanted to be anyone but me. I hated the ‘now’. Maybe I didn’t want to wake at all.
So I swallowed another two for good measure.
I repeated this pattern over the next week, but by Friday, sheer terror took over. In one week, I had taken a whole month’s supply of pills. I needed more, but what would I say to the doctor? How could I tell him that I had only one tablet left? I would have to make up some wild story.
Taking a deep breath, I called the surgery and left a message. The doctor called me back within minutes.
‘How are you, Tara?’ he asked with a cheery voice.
‘Much better, thank you... but I do have a very small problem,’ I added cautiously. ‘I went to stay with my sister for a few days in Dublin, you know, to get some fresh air, exercise and have some company. She has these two mischievous dogs and, well, one of them actually ate my whole box of numbing pills, straight out of my bag! The whole packet, even the foil… everything. He had to have his little doggy stomach pumped. Such a naughty pup! He slept for three days and was very sick.’
I paused, listening hard to hear if there was any reaction.
‘My sister is very angry with me,’ I continued, throwing in a few sobs for good measure. I had to do something. I could feel I was losing. ‘But, doctor I’m feeling so much better – all thanks to you and your brilliance,’ I added very quickly. ‘If I could just sleep a few more hours a night, I’m sure I would cope better. And I have decided to really embrace the counselling thing. In fact, I can’t wait to start. You are an amazing doctor and…’
‘I’ll leave a prescription at reception and we will have that appointment with the counsellor for you soon,’ he interrupted abruptly, ‘and Tara… please be more careful this time.’
Breathing a huge sigh of relief at my potentially Oscar-winning performance, I clicked the receiver.
A week later, a letter arrived from the surgery with the date of my counselling appointment. I really didn’t want to go. If they weren’t going to give me any numbing pills, what was the point? I cancelled it, saying I felt too unwell to attend; promising I would re-book, as soon as I felt better.
My pills were depleting fast though. I felt sheer terror at the thought of having to ask for more, but I had gone through all my pills again in just over two weeks. Even though I was feeling more unwell as time went on, I had at least achieved what I had wanted; to feel numb; to feel nothing.
I mentally prepared myself, thinking up different stories, different excuses, something - anything to get more pills. I then nervously rang the surgery to make the dreaded appointment.
‘I’m afraid your usual doctor is away on holiday, Miss. Ryan,’ chorused the receptionist, ‘will you see Dr. Arahna instead?’
‘Of course, no problem.’ I answered, instantly relieved.
When the time came, I easily pulled the wool over Dr. Arahna’s eyes by rambling through one of my old stories.
I’m getting good at this; I thought. I should have taken a career on stage.
Dr. Arahna barely lifted his head to acknowledge me, but that suited me fine. He didn’t care and neither did I as he handed me my prescription.
Now I was popping the pills like sweets, it was only a matter of time before I would be in the same situation once more. But, for now, I could breath again. Or sleep more in my case - that was all that mattered.
Meanwhile, I continued to fob-off friends and family with tales of flu or a stomach bug, whatever I could get away with. I became a good, convincing liar.
All too quickly though, the time arrived where I needed another prescription and I made an appointment heavyhearted. I couldn’t recall when I had last washed. I looked bad, smelt bad and felt bad. In an effort to look a bit more together for the doctor, I dragged myself under the shower. The water hurt as it pounded my fragile body. I felt so weak. I convinced myself I may really have been coming down with flu. I had no clean clothes so picked the least-creased ones off the floor, pulled them on and set off nervously for the surgery like a zombie.
As I was called to go through, I kept telling myself to keep my composure, stay calm and in just a few short minutes, I would have what I needed.
‘Hello Tara, how are you?’ my usual doctor said cheerily.
‘Really well, thank you. I just need to get a repeat prescription please,’ I said gulping hard.
‘But you should have enough to last you at least another two weeks,’ he replied after consulting his computer. ‘And I notice here that you have not yet been to see the counsellor?’
‘Err… no, not yet,’ I answered, blushing. ‘I was a little poorly and I forgot to re-book. As soon as I get home I’ll make the appointment.’
He clearly wasn’t impressed with the bullshit I was spewing. I knew he could see right through me. He knew - that I knew - that he knew I was bullshitting. He sat, looked at my bullshitting face, turned back to look on his screen and then looked back at me.
‘Tara, I can’t give you any more.’
I was instantly filled with rage.
‘WHY NOT?!’ I exploded. ‘But I need them. They take the pain away. They stop me from thinking!’
‘With the amount you’ve been taking, they’ll stop you living altogether. Please, remove your coat so I can take your blood pressure.’
‘I haven’t taken all those tablets you know,’ I protested. ‘One of my friends had a couple, my sisters cat - err… I mean dog - had nearly a whole packet. And, and…’
‘These pills are highly addictive. By the looks of things, you’ve been taking enough to knock out a horse.’
‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m addicted,’ I said, doing my best to sound indignant, ‘… or the size of a horse? And
you call yourself a doctor. It’s not cocaine or alcohol, it’s a little white tablet that helps me sleep; nothing more, nothing less.’
‘… On the scales please,’ he continued, completely ignoring my pleas of justification.
Petulantly, I removed my coat, with a few huffs and puffs thrown in for effect. I stomped onto the scales, hands-on-hips.
‘Hmm… just as I had suspected. You have lost nine kilos since I saw you last.’
‘So?’ I snarled, secretly wishing he’d told me what it was in stones and pounds (I could never work it out in kilos).
‘Nine kilos in just over a month? I am very concerned.’
‘What’s a few pounds?’ I snapped, getting more irritated by the second.
‘Nearly a stone and a half in such a short space of time is not healthy.’
‘A stone and a half?’ I stammered, quite stunned. What a shame that I didn’t take these tablets when it would have mattered.
The doctor continued his checks. My blood pressure was through the roof, I was becoming underweight, blah, blah, blah. The gist of it all: I was a train wreck.
‘I am not addicted,’ I defied desperately. ‘Surely I can’t just stop taking them? Don’t I need to come off them slowly?’
It’s not good when you have to tell a doctor how these things are done, I thought to myself.
‘I cannot give you any more, Tara. Besides, if you’re telling me that you’re not addicted… then you won’t miss them, will you?’
‘But that’s not fair.’ The smart arse.
‘So, are you willing to admit you have probably become addicted?’
‘No, because I most certainly am not!’
The cheeky gobshite. That’s Katie’s department. She’s the druggie of the family - not me. Why did I have to end up with a doctor who does everything by the book?
‘You’re going to have to go cold turkey. By the end of the week your sleep pattern should go back to normal.’
‘Fine!’ I snarled. ‘That’s fine. You’re the so-called expert.’ I added in a sarcastic tone; ‘My life is in your hands!’
He ignored me as he picked up his phone to make a call.
‘Ah, she’s still here,’ he said into the receiver. ‘Can she see a patient now? Yes… I would consider it an emergency, thank you, I’ll send her through now.’
‘Right then,’ he said turning back to me, ‘let’s get you back to a good state of mental health. The counsellor is here and she will see you now.’
‘But… I don’t need to see anyone. I’m not mental!’ I protested. ‘I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just want to sleep…’
Unable to even finish my sentence, I broke down. I was then gently escorted into another room, where there was a very large, rounded lady waiting for me.
‘Hello Tara, come and sit down,’ she smiled soothingly. ‘My name is Dawn. How are you feeling right now?’
‘I’m fine,’ I sniffed, feeling completely drained, almost falling into the chair. I was just petrified, now that I had no more numbing pills.
Apart from my sniffling, the room fell silent. Sadly, my head wasn’t silent. The same thoughts pounded my brain. It hurt to think, really hurt. To add to it all, there was the certainty of going home empty-handed. I felt like my life support had been switched off - I couldn’t breathe.
‘If the doctor could just give me a few more numbing pills I would feel better, please can you go and ask him for me?’ I implored, running my hands through my greasy, matted hair. ‘Please, I’m begging you.’
‘That’s a very interesting name you have called your medication,’ Dawn said, completely ignoring my plea. ‘Tell me how you are feeling right now? Try and use a feeling word if you can.’
‘… Broken,’ I said, sobbing into a tissue, ‘… broken.’
‘Broken,’ she repeated softly, nodding her head in sympathy, ‘tell me about broken.’
‘(Snivelling)… I hate myself… I hate what I have become and this,’ I said bitterly, pointing at my heart, ‘this has had enough. No more. No more. I’m done.’
‘So, what I am hearing is… you hate yourself and you hate what you’ve become?’
‘We love and we lose love… and it hurts,’ I gulped, ‘it hurts real bad… real bad… What’s the point of anything? It’s all pointless. We live and then we die and… Look, I don’t want to waste your time any more. The short of it is - I’m just ready to die and get out of everyone’s way…’
‘… Okay, Tara… it’s okay to cry...’
She let me cry for a full ten minutes without saying another word.
Eventually I was able to piece some words together. ‘I feel so alone. Just so, so lonely. I’m in darkness. There isn’t a way out. When you need people the most… they’re gone.’
‘So you’re in darkness and you’re feeling alone?’
‘… But you know, you get fooled because they are there in body, but not there in mind…’ I babbled.
‘Someone is there with you, in body, but not in the mind?’ Dawn questioned.
Who is that somebody? I asked myself. Sweet Jesus, I really do sound like a mental patient. Was it my dad? Was it Travis? Stumbling over my own thoughts, I remained silent for a moment.
‘… And you end up trying everything – anything – to get that person back,’ I began welling up again.
‘It’s okay, Tara. It’s okay. Stay with those feelings.’
‘… But it’s all too little, too late!’ I barked back in anger. ‘He took what he wanted out of life to cope and now the person they once were has gone… it fucking hurts. We consume things and then… they consume us.’ The grief and pain became so overwhelming I began to retch.
‘Please… please help me. The pain… I can’t bear the pain. I miss him. I miss him so much. I failed. I failed. He didn’t want to be with me.’
A tidal wave of emotions crashed into my whole being. I felt faint and unsteady. I felt sick.
‘Dad… Travis,’ I mumbled in confusion. I shook my head… ‘I don’t know.’
‘It was your dad or Travis?’ repeated Dawn, in a calming voice.
‘I don't know… My dad went and died on me. He never even said goodbye. I looked after him as best I could - but he still left me after everything I did for him.
‘You think it was your fault your dad died while you were looking after him?’
‘I couldn’t stop him from drinking. I should have been there 24/7, but I was working so hard to keep a roof over our heads.’
‘So, you couldn’t stop him drinking? So, it’s the child’s job to look after the adult is it? How does that make you feel?’
‘Guilty,’ I whispered. ‘Really, really guilty.’
I buried my hands in my face as the feeling of guilt engulfed my mind.
‘You feel guilty for putting a roof over your dad’s head and for doing your best as a daughter?’ Dawn pressed.
‘I feel guilty about everything… I tried my best. He was an alcoholic. Then he got diagnosed with schizophrenia and didn’t take his medication. I didn’t know that he wasn’t taking it. So yes, I feel guilty. It was all my fault.’
‘Your father chose not to take his medication and he chose to continue drinking - and this makes you feel guilty?’
I nodded as the tears fell down my face and on to my lap, soaking into my clothing.
‘How does that make you feel?’
‘Like a failure… very lonely.’ I answered quietly.
‘Tara, we’ve made some great progress today,’ said Dawn, sitting up in her chair and glancing at her watch, ‘our time has come to an end.’
‘But… I haven’t even started on the other fecker who abandoned me!’ I stammered. ‘And he’s gone for a child as a lover! … And I’m in the menopause. Me… in the menopause! I’m only in my feckin’ thirties!’
‘This is good, Tara, would…’ began Dawn.
‘What the feck is so good about that?’ I interrupted sharply, feeling my anger rising. ‘All you
’ve done is just repeat everything I’ve said… Feck it! Just get me my numbing pills. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. It is time for you to keep yours.’
I stubbornly folded my arms, feeling angry that I’d done what was asked and they didn’t even given me what I wanted.
‘Another appointment would be far more beneficial for you Tara,’ she said smiling and shaking her head at me.
I made another stupid appointment, to shut them up. But I already knew I would cancel it.
I arrived home distraught, empty-handed and pissed off. The slightest noise drove me insane. I ripped the phone, TV and radio out of their sockets and pulled down the blinds in every room of the house. I needed to get some more pills. Reluctantly, I switched my mobile back on, deciding to ask Siobhan for help,
‘Hello?’ Siobhan answered, sounding surprised.
‘Siobhan, it’s Tara. I need a favour.’
‘Well, feck me! We all thought you had been abducted by aliens!’
‘Very funny.’ I really wasn’t in the mood for Siobhan’s humour.
‘How’ve you been? Where have you been? Are you alright?’ she said, sounding genuinely serious for once.
‘Siobhan, I need you to go to the Doctor’s for me.’
‘Oh… okay…’
‘I’m still not feeling well and I can’t sleep. Can you make an emergency appointment for this afternoon and get some sleeping tablets for me? Please?’
‘Okay… anything to make you feel better. We’re all missing you so much.’
‘Thanks… All you need to do is tell the doctor you can’t sleep. Come round for a cuppa when you’ve picked them up.’
‘No problem, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call me if you need anything else.’
I paced the floor for an hour before Siobhan turned up. She flung open the back door, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Well?’ I said, wide-eyed with my hands out ready to snatch the booty from her.
‘You’re not gonna feckin’ believe this right.’
‘Did you get my pills?’ I asked impatiently.
‘Well, I goes in right and your doctor’s feckin’ gorgeous. I thought, right, I’m not missing out on this. I says to him, me fanjita’s feeling a bit funny like, can you gimmie a once-over? Y’know, get right in there and make sure everything’s hunky-dory. So he goes, “that’s fine, lie on the couch and I’ll get a nurse”. I wasn’t sure about that at first, but then I thought, the more the merrier, you know. Anyway, nurse walks through the door and her face is like a bag of boiled shite and she’s built like a brick shit house. I thought there’s no way she’s fiddling with me flaps!’
