Pills
by Steve Bunting
Doctor Dan looked at his patient carefully. There were circles under Lou’s eyes that had not been there three months ago. Lou was usually full of banter as they went through the medical motions, blood pressure, pulse, palpitations of the chest and back. Most of the time, the doctor had to silence his patient as he listened to his heart, bowels, and lungs. Lou had been a patient for thirty years, and they had developed an easy rhythm with the exam. Today, it was silent.
Adding notes to the record, he turned to his slumping patient. They had become friends in church and had shared personally at picnics and Sunday school classes. The conversations were not deep or particularly meaningful, but Dan knew, after only a few minutes of processing, that Lou was not the same person he was fond of.
“I’m not sleeping, Doc. I need some pills.”
“Tell me about it?”
“I’m exhausted. Haven’t slept well for months.”
Dan probed his neck and felt under his arms. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Are you worried about something?”
Lou’s face froze, as if he were handling his thoughts, the way Dan had just examined his body.
Not looking at his doctor, he sighed. “Many years ago, I was married to a different woman.”
“Huh,” Dan touched his chin and glanced at his notes. He had arranged hospice care for Emily a few years before. “I didn’t know. What happened?”
“Mary Lee Weber. We were high school sweethearts. It didn’t work out.”
Dan made notes in the record. He wasn’t in a hurry. Lou was always his last patient, and his wife was out of town at a church music conference.
“I loved her.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It wasn’t her fault. We had a good marriage, but I wanted children. She was a schoolteacher and wanted to travel. We still exchange Christmas cards.”
“And it turned out, Lou. You have two wonderful children. They are really fine people. Alice is married to an Engineer, right? And Todd seems to be happy.
Todd was gay and in a monogamous relationship. Dan had never met the partner, but Todd was also his patient and shared freely.
Lou’s eyes were focused on the paper-covered exam table. He turned his eyes away from Dan.
“I always wanted a family. I guess our kids never quite turn out to be what we expect.”
“Alice has plenty of time.”
“No. They’re not interested.”
“You’ve spoken with them about this?”
“At Christmas, they all laughed at the idea of having children.”
“I’ve seen this play out many times, Lou. Life has a way of bringing us around to renew the world. I think you have to be patient.”
“Will that help me sleep?”
“It might. Give it a couple of months and come back to see me if you are still tossing about.”
“Give me some pills.”
Dan relented and scrawled on his script pad.
“Ten. Come back in a couple of months, and we’ll see how you are doing.”
“Ten,” Lou repeated, disappointment in his voice.
“We don’t want you dependent on the pills. We want your brain to get used to sleeping.
—
When Dan next entered the exam room with Lou, he could see he had lost weight, his face was haggard, and nervous energy kept his hands moving, while his body swished about on the paper. He let his hands work, moving over Lou’s body using his doctor’s tools, and wordlessly Lou’s unease seemed to resolve, he was there with Dan, but a hum of anxiety filled every fiber in Lou’s body.
“Sleeping?”
“No.”
“Are the tablets not working?”
“When I run out, I’m miserable, and sometimes they don’t work at all.”
“Lou, you seem to be fine physically, but I can see that you are dealing with something.”
Lou was hunched in on himself.
“I want to die.”
“Die? What do you mean? You are tired, depressed. We can treat this.”
“No, Doctor. I want to die.”
Dan sat on the rolling stool, edging closer. His eyes were even with Dan’s, and they could assess each other. He continued his process, while he studied Lou’s face. It was yellow, gray. He would run tests but suspected that the problem would not show up in blood.
“We’ll figure this out.”
A long moment of soft breathing passed.
“Help me.”
“I’m going to do everything I can, Lou.”
“I need to sleep.”
“Of course.”
“I want more pills.”
“I’ll up the dose, but I want you to work with me on this, Lou.”
“I want at least a month’s worth. Two months. I get anxious.”
Dan hesitated over the script. Then, he turned back.
“I think that is a bad idea, Lou.”
He started crying, shaking, and Dan put his hands on his patient, then pulled him close and held him as he sobbed.
“We’ll get through this, Lou.”
“I want to die, Doctor. Please, help me.”
They separated for a minute as Dan wrote on his tablet.
“Take this, and I think you will get some rest. I’m going to have Sylvia come in to draw blood and run some tests. And I’ll order a sleep study, Lou. Really, you are going to be ok.”
Lou looked at the paper. “Only ten?”
“Call for a refill.”
“Five more then?”
“You are fragile, Lou. We need to be careful.”
No eye contact followed as Dan escaped the healing sanctum. He had a private space, a closet really, next to his office, and he slipped in with the coats and boxes of pills and samples that were stored there. He often prayed for his patients, but today, he prayed for wisdom and inspiration. He didn’t know what to do for Lou and worried that he might not have anything to help. He had lost others, men and women, even children, who lost the spark.
“Oh God,” he whispered, “have mercy. Help me. Help Lou.”
__
“Goddamn it Doctor, I need more pills.” Lou’s angry voice carried into the next room from the phone.
“I haven’t seen the sleep study yet, Lou.”
“Not interested. Help me, Doctor. I need more pills. Help me.
“Have you shared with Alice and Todd? Do they know what you are going through?”
“They don’t need to know.”
“Can I call them, maybe have them come with you on our next appointment.
“No.”
“I’m glad we could fit you in, Todd how is your Dad and what can I do for you?”
“I need a letter for the agency that says I’m healthy. Charley and I are adopting a little girl.”
“Your dad must be happy about this.”
“You have no idea, Doctor, he is over the moon. And Alice is pregnant.” Todd laughed at the irony of him and his sister being on the same path.
“Neither of us talked about having kids; we were always opposed to the idea. The world situation sucks and we aren’t exactly doing that well financially. But Charley and I, we just felt that something was missing. Alice was going through the same thing with Bill. We had a surprise announcement party, and the surprise was on us because Alice is three months pregnant. It was the first time I’ve seen Dad smile since Mom passed. He started crying, which, as you know, he never does.”