Just In Time by Joan Lindstedt Jackson

Author:Joan Lindstedt Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2017-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

13

SEPTEMBER 1999

Pills lay strewn haphazardly at one end of the dining room table next to the half-filled pill tray. Amber-colored vials, lids off, scattered at random, stretched across the table’s width, and Steve sat hunched over the disarray, trying to make sense of the recent changes Dr. Pandi had made to his dosages. Sorting and counting, counting and sorting. From ten milligrams of Prolixin to five? One pill instead of two? Thirty milligrams Resperadahl instead of five Prolixin? Can’t be. That’s too much. Three hundred milligrams Lithium. No change. But there aren’t enough pills to fill the tray! And there should be, I think. Start over. He tried different combinations to make it work. Nothing made sense, and now the whole morning had gone by. He was sweating so heavily that droplets fell into the open slots of the tray, and he started trembling. He tried to control it, to steady himself, but the more he tried the worse it got, and the small pile of pills sitting in his open hand sprinkled onto the floor. He stooped down, scrunching his face to see where they’d landed—too far out of reach—he had to get on his hands and knees to retrieve them. Breathing hard, he grunted and struggled and grabbed a few, and then spotted several more wedged between the carpet and the heat register. As he reached, his glasses slid off of his nose, dropping onto the carpet.

“Shit! Goddammit!” He flung the pills in his hand against the wall and flipped onto his back staring up at the underside of the table. He closed his eyes. He lay there a long time trying to calm down, maybe even dozed off while he thought about calling the pharmacy, his sister, Dr. Pandi, or Nancy. But what could they do? If they tried to explain it to him, he wouldn’t get it anyway. Pandi would want him to come to her office. No way. What’s the use? I give up. This is too hard. He didn’t feel right, something was off. He heard noises and wondered if someone was in the house. He thought someone was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t quite make out the words or recognize the voice.

“Nancy? Danny?” But no one answered. “Oh, right. Danny’s gone. Unless he came back. Danny? Is anybody there?” Nothing. Maybe it was Sammy, but the dog was in Nancy’s room and the door was closed. Sammy’s too quiet. What if he’s dead? His stomach rumbled. His mouth was parched. I’m dying of thirst. I need iced tea. And a hamburger. I need to get out of here. Glasses in hand, he scooted out from under the table and went to his room to find his wallet. He glanced in the mirror on his way in. When did I get so fat? My neck, my neck, I don’t even have one. And this gut! He knew the medication made him gain weight. Maybe he could get thin again if he didn’t take it, and get an erection.

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