Falling Lessons by Stacey Elza

Author:Stacey Elza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aurora Corialis Publishing
Published: 2023-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

My tics are like the weather. When they’re mild—like a sunny day with a light breeze—I can forget I even have them. When they’re severe—like a thunderstorm with hail—I’ll fling my arms until they’re tired or repeat words for hours.

Not getting enough sleep makes my tics worse. Stress and PMS make them worse, too.

My meds make them kind of better. And so does exercise. And so does TMS, which stands for trans-something magnetic stimulation. I can never remember the first word.

When I get a TMS treatment, the first thing my doctor does is wheel this big machine into the room. Then she extends this arm from the machine. There’s a hat-like thing at the end of the arm. It’s like one of those old-fashioned hair dryers you see women sitting under in old movies. The doctor puts the hat on me, tightens the strap under my chin, and pushes some buttons on the machine. That’s how the hat starts to, like, magnetize my brain. Which sounds like it would hurt—having your brain magnetized—but it doesn’t feel like anything.

The doctor leaves the hat on me for half an hour while she dims the lights and plays some music that’s supposed to be relaxing but has a babbling brook in the background and just makes me want to pee.

I tell Grandma all of this in her own doctor’s exam room, but when I’m done describing the process, she just says, “When are we getting out of here?” She picks her purse up off the floor and plops it in her lap. “I’m only here so we can go to the pet store later. Remember that.”

“We can’t leave yet, Mom. We have to do your TMS first,” Mom said.

“It doesn’t work. It’s a scam.”

“It’s not a scam. It’ll help you have more good days and fewer bad days.”

Grandma unzips her purse, takes out her phone, and starts playing a chiming, plinking match-three game. It has a pirate theme. When she makes a move, a voice bellows, “Shiver me timbers!” or “Blimey!”

“Any day I’m still breathing is a good day,” Grandma mumbles.

I pat her on the arm. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but: Mom’s right. My tics used to be so much worse before I started TMS.”

Grandma snickers. “You sound like a commercial. Side effects of TMS may include constipation, diarrhea, unexplained weight loss, unexplained weight gain, mood swings, diarrhea—”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but—”

“— Dizziness, trouble sleeping, trouble with authority, forgotten passwords, memories of past lives— ”

I jump in: “Visions of future lives, a fear of clouds —”

“—Songs stuck in your head, the urge to adopt a goat—

“The urge to be a goat—”

“Constipation—”

“OK, OK!” Mom says. “You’re getting the TMS, though. That’s the important thing.”

“Of course she’s getting it,” I say. “Who wouldn’t want the chance to remember their past life as Cleopatra?”

The doctor walks in, pulling the TMS machine behind her.

Mom motions for Grandma to put her phone away. She doesn’t.

“Will this help with her memory problems?” Mom asks the doctor.

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