JASON
I feel like the weakest man on Earth. Brittany was a witness to the same things I was, and she didn’t fall apart in the least. She was strong for that little girl and now here she is, being strong for me.
I’m a failure and she will see that in me now and forever. How can she count on a man who falls so deep into a black hole and so quickly?
After filling out all the papers, she hands the clipboard to the receptionist and looks back at me. With a pat on my leg, she says, “Everything will be fine, baby.”
The urge to tell her to stop calling me baby rises up inside of me, but I hold my tongue and my volatile temper. I’m furious at her for bringing me here. I can’t believe she would do this to me.
“You two go through those doors on the left there and a nurse will be waiting right there for you,” the older woman says. She looks at me with a little smile. “Seeing horrible things affect us in many ways, Mr. Brennan. Getting help to cope is a smart thing to do.”
I make a huffing sound and get up to follow Britt to the doors that are going to trap me behind them for however long these doctors think I’ll need to be trapped here.
It occurs to me that Brittany has no idea of how my mind works when I get like this. She has no idea of how much time it takes for me to get past things. I have no idea if she’ll feel I’m worth waiting for.
A young nurse meets us just as we walk through the doors and she smiles at me. “Mr. Brennan, follow me, please.” She walks to a small room and turns to me as she gestures to a chair. “Please take this seat and let me get your vitals.”
Brittany stands next to me, her hand on my shoulder in an effort to help me accept the fact I am here and not under my own control any longer. It’s not working at all. “I don’t think I should be here.”
The nurse smiles as she pushes my T-shirt sleeve up and puts a blood pressure cuff on my bicep. “Oh? And why is that?”
“It’s my head that’s fucked up. There’s nothing physically wrong with me.” I watch her pump up the cuff and let the air out slowly while she holds a stethoscope to the crook of my arm.
She makes a little frown and walks away to get the automatic cuff. “Seems to me your blood pressure is a bit on the low side. Let’s just get an accurate reading here, Mr. Brennan.”
The sterile-smelling nurse hooks me all up and hits a button and the new cuff inflates as numbers start blinking on the screen. It makes a buzzing sound, and she looks back at me. “Still think there’s nothing physically wrong, Mr. Brennan?”
“So it’s a little low,” I say as she takes the cuff off, then places a thermometer in my mouth. It makes a beeping sound, and she frowns again.
She takes it out and looks at it. “Hmm. 100.1. Seems you have a bit of a fever, too.”
A hospital wristband is put on my right wrist. “Let’s get you back to the examining room and I’ll get the physician to come talk to you about things. It says on your paperwork that you witnessed a trauma yesterday. Was it that terrible wreck that happened just a little ways up the highway?”
I nod and feel my jaw tighten as I recall the way the little boy was hanging lifeless in the seat belt. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She nods and I see her look at Brittany. “That’s normal in PTSD. Not only people in the military get it. Don’t worry, we know how to help.”
“You do?” I ask, as I really thought they would have no way to help me.
She nods and gestures for us to follow her as she walks out of the room, carrying the little clipboard with my history on it. “Oh, yes.” She pulls back a green curtain in a room of three green curtains and says, “We’ve made some great advances in medicine to help people with such things. You should be glad you came here today. You’re going to be feeling much better much faster than you would’ve had you tried to get over this with time and alcohol or illegal drugs.”
I look at Brittany and wait for an, ‘I told you so.’ But nothing comes from her but a sweet smile and a reassuring nod.
My heart does a little flip as I look at her. If the shoe was on the other foot, I don’t know how patient I’d be.
The nurse lays a gown on the bed, the same color as the curtains. and nods at Brittany. “Help him get this on. It needs to open in the front so we can get some monitors on his chest. He can leave on his underwear.”
I smile, as Brittany made sure to lay out a pair of underwear for me. I rarely wear them. Funny how I didn’t even argue with her about wearing them. I just put them on without a word.
She smiles at me again with a knowing look and my heart speeds up a little as I look at her sweet face. Maybe this girl is on to something.
The nurse leaves and Brittany pulls my shirt off. “Everything is going to be okay, baby.” She kisses my cheek and takes the button of my shorts between her fingers and undoes it. She lets them fall down and I step out of them.
“I could do this myself.”
“I know. I want you to know you have a woman who is ready and willing to help you that’s all. You’re more than capable of dressing and undressing, but let me help you.” She puts the gown on me and ties up the myriad of strings that holds the thing somewhat closed.
“This gown is really not necessary,” I say as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Just lie back here,” she says as she fluffs up the little pillow as much as possible. “Relax and just let them take care of you.”
“You sure are talking a lot nicer to me than you were,” I say as she runs her fingers over my collarbone.
“Well, I had to get through to you. I’m sorry I said mean things.” She looks at me with a slight glisten in her eyes.
“Me, too,” I say then look away. “If I could stop this, I would.”
“I know that. I’m not mad at you in the least and I don’t want you to apologize to me about any of it. It’s out of your control. So lie back, relax, and let’s get you better, sweetie.”
The curtain slides back as a tall man with graying temples comes inside, looking at my chart. “Mr. Brennan, I see here you’ve witnessed a tragedy and are exhibiting signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” He looks at me and I nod my answer.
Brittany stands to one side. He looks at her, then her engagement ring. “You’re his fiancée?”
He’s very observant, I have to give him that. “I am,” Brittany says with a smile and a flash of her ring. “It was his grandmother’s. We’re supposed to get married sometime soon.”
“No date has been set?” he asks, then looks at me.
“No. We’re planning to go to Vegas after some of my personal business is dealt with.”
“What kind of personal business?” he asks.
I feel he’s invading my privacy and let him know that. “Personal.”
He laughs and sits on the bed next to me. “Okay, first things first. I’m not asking you this to get all up in your business, Mr. Brennan. I’m asking you because if this business is stressful then it could’ve been the predecessor to the onset of the PTSD witnessing the accident caused. Talking about things is a great way to deal with them.”
I roll my eyes and Brittany laughs. “He’s usually pretty good at talking about things, Doc.”
“I’m sure he is.” He pats my shoulder. “Jason. Can I call you that?”
“You can. I’d prefer it.”
“Jason, let me put your mind at ease. All of us deal with bad things in our own way. When too much is put on one’s shoulders, it can trigger a defense mechanism in the brain to shut off for a while.”
“That’s exactly what I feel like. Like a switch turned off inside my head. I can’t believe you know that!”
“I know this because you’re not the first person this has happened too. So what kind of business has you holding off on marrying this gorgeous woman over here?” he asks with a smile, revealing perfect white teeth.
“Someone I’ve had somewhat of a relationship with says I’m the father of her baby. She says she took my sperm from several condoms and had in vitro fertilization to get pregnant.”
“What a piece of work she is,” the doctor says. “Well, that is troubling, isn’t it? I suppose you’ve started the DNA testing process.”
“I have. Now it’s a sit and wait thing. My lawyer said it’s best to wait to get married. If the child is mine, then they could use my wife’s money plus mine to decide the amount I’ll have to pay. And she’s just about as loaded as I am. So that and a few other things have been weighing heavy on me.”
All of a sudden, I realize I’m talking way too much so I shut up.
“So it’s safe to say you’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed even before witnessing the accident,” he says as he writes this all down. “I don’t think we’re dealing with classic depression. I think this is textbook PTSD. So I’m going to give you a month’s supply of an anti-depressant. And I’m going to ask you to see your own doctor when you get back to New York.”
“Why do I have a fever and low blood pressure, Doc?”
“The human body is complex. With depression, anxiety, stress, any of those things, our immune systems become weaker. Your fever is caused by the chemicals your body has been releasing a lot of, to help you cope with all that’s on your plate right now. Once we get those chemicals in balance, which will take a few days, then you will begin to feel better.”
“So this isn’t an instant fix?” I ask as I look over at Brittany.
The doctor shakes his head. “I wish there was something to immediately take this all away. Much like this didn’t happen all at once, it won’t be taken away all at once. But each day you will feel better. And if you don’t, then let your physician know so they can change the prescription until they find what will work for you.”
“Something is better than nothing,” I say, and find myself meaning it.
“Now, we’re going to hook you up to some monitors for a little while so we can track your blood pressure and your heartrate, breathing, those kinds of things. And I can send in a priest, preacher, or a certified psychiatrist to talk to you about things. And you can see any variation of them if you want,” he tells me then gets off the bed.
“I think a professional and maybe a preacher,” I say, as I think about who might be able to help me the most.
“I’ll get them coming to see you and my nurse will get you going on the anti-depressant and hook you all up. I’ll be back in a few hours to see if you feel like staying the night with us or leaving.”
“It’s up to me?” I ask in surprise.
“It is all up to you, Jason. Nothing is out of your control. Remember that,” he says as he pulls the curtain back and gives us a wave then leaves.
Pulling in a deep breath, I already feel somewhat better. Then Brittany moves to my side and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Better than drinking and smoking?”
I nod. “Yes. You were right.”
She sits down and runs her hands through my hair. “I love you, Jason. I will always do what’s best for you.”
And just like that, I know she is my rock and always will be.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m going to hold on to you for all I’m worth.” I take her hand and kiss it as I look into her eyes.
I don’t know how she puts up with me and all my drama, but I’m damn glad she does.