Page 18 of Fractured Frets

“Tell me something I don’t know.” My voice slithered through my clenched teeth. “After this, can you give me another cortisone injection? They help. And maybe some more pain-killers.”

“Yes, you can have another injection, but you know you can’t have them too often. And pain-killers? You’re already on Tramadol.”

“Jade, the meds don’t work anymore—they’re not strong enough.” Nausea flooded my gut as a simple solution came to mind. “I’ll take it easy for a few days. I promise. Just...give me something stronger to numb this fucker. I need to get some sleep. I hate waking up every few hours in agony.”

“Okay. I don’t like seeing you suffer, but we need to manage this pain correctly and carefully. We’ll try Drizodone, four times a day. It’s a hydrocodone acetaminophen like Vicodin, and stronger than your current meds. I’ll also give you something to help you sleep.”

“Arrrrgh. Yep.” I groaned as Filipe dug his thumb into another sore spot. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. My hip had never been this bad. It used to ache if I ran too far, surfed too long, or partied too much. But it has always gotten better. During previous tours, the guys and I had never pushed ourselves this hard, had such a demanding show schedule, traveled this much, or had to maintain such high levels of fitness. My body wasn’t handling it and I hated it. I was twenty-six years’ old and in utter agony.

Filipe drove his thumbs across the top edge of my hip joint, digging in hard and deep.

I flinched and moaned again.

“I barely touched you, Slip.” Filipe pressed harder. “Don’t be a baby.”

I swiveled my head and hissed over my shoulder, “Fuck you, Filipe.”

“Slip?” Jade leaned forward and folded her arms on the desk. “Have you fallen recently? Injured yourself?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Okay.” She nodded once. “Something more serious is going on with your hip. So before Osaka, I want to get you to a medical center and have it re-scanned.”

“No. I had scans before the tour. I’ve done nothing other than our shows, sit on planes, and be with Mads. We had a lot of sex...” There was no such thing as too much sex, right? “But nothing I’ve done should’ve caused this much pain.”

She sighed and held up her palms. “Alright. It’s your call. See how it goes over the next week or so. If there is no sign of improvement in two weeks, I’ll drag you to the hospital myself.”

“Deal.” Maybe . . .

She reached into her medical bag and placed a bottle of pills on the desk. “I’ve only got a few meds with me. I’ll get more in the morning. But this is strong medication. You need to be careful and stick to the dosages prescribed. Get a massage every day or two. And for goodness sake, take it easy on stage. You don’t want to keep aggravating that old injury, re-tear it, or worse, end up needing more surgery.”

“Fuck no. I’ll be careful.” I didn’t know how I’d survive the next six months, but I had to. I didn’t want to fall back into old habits. Phil had been on a daily cocktail of cocaine and party pills, and much harder shit than pain-killers. Back then...I hadn’t been as bad as Phil, but I’d been no angel. His death had been a wake-up call to get clean. But every day, I battled the demons that lured me toward another high. The rush of energy, the buzz of love, the wave of euphoria, and the bliss of no pain were constant temptations. Just thinking about the bitter taste of coke sliding down the back of my throat, the electric charge coursing through my veins, and the cool hum in my head had me breaking out in a cold sweat. God, I want a hit. Right fucking now. Fuck!

I hated it when I caved. I loathed myself when I did. But this was different. These drugs were for medical treatment and management. I needed my body to stop hurting. I’d just take these meds until the end of the tour, then I’d stop.

I’d keep the pills under control.

“Alright.” Jade nodded once. “I’ll give you an injection or two. And if the new medication makes you sick in the stomach, gives you headaches, rashes, or fevers, or you have trouble shitting, we’ll try something else.”

“You’re really selling me on these pills, Doc.” I threw her a sly smirk, but then groaned through Filipe’s hard strokes across my lower back. I’d been taking pain-killers for over a year; something a touch stronger wouldn’t hurt. But I wasn’t naïve, and I was terrified of addiction. I refused to become a statistic.

“Trust me, I sugarcoated the side effects.” Jade’s tone remained level but serious.

“Awesome.” Not.

At the end of Filipe’s thirty minutes of torturous, blissful deep-tissue massage, Jade dug into her medical bag again and pulled out a tiny vial of clear liquid and a syringe. She tore the needle from the packaging, drew the injection, then wiped an alcohol swab over my hip. Normally, I had ultrasound-guided injections, but I trusted Jade to hit the right areas.

“Ready?” She pressed her cold fingertips across my lower back, searching for the most tender spots. I jumped. There. “First, a little sting.”

Little? “ARGH! FUCK, that hurts.” A cruel ache spread beneath my skin as she injected the cortisone, six times, in different spots and into the tops of my hips.

“All done.” She patted my thigh. “Once the local wears off, you’ll ache for a day or two, but then you should feel better.”

“Thank you.” I lay on the table, unable to move. I took a few deep breaths. Once the sting subsided, I sat upright and rubbed the sores. The pain had already eased thanks to the massage and the needles. “Thanks, Filipe. Your hands are magic. Guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“That’s why I’m here.” He wiped his oily hands off on a towel.

Jade closed her bag. “Now get some rest, Slip. You have a show tomorrow.”

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