Page 72 of Oh, Flutz!

“Really? You don’t remember falling more than usual in practice when you first started taking it?”

I pause. Did I? That does happen when my schedule gets disrupted, I get woozy and it’s like I’ve never been on the ice before—last year one of my bags was lost by the airline and I didn’t have any meds for three days; and the second I arrived for practice I slipped and got a bruise on my thigh the size of a pancake—but I can’t remember it ever affecting me once I’m on it. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Listen, Doctor—”

“Ugh, Ihatehonorifics. I barely graduated med school, anyway, so it’d probably be a disservice to doctors who know what the hell they’re doing. It’s like people with a PhD.” Sanjiv laughs, and rolls his eyes when I don’t. “Fine, fine, no joking for you. Unfortunate, as I’m frankly hilarious.”

I very nearly smile. “I don’t remember, that’s why I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”

Sanjiv frowns. “How long ago? When was it prescribed?”

I shift in my seat. “A few years ago.”

“How many?”

“I was, um, sixteen.”

The crease between his brows deepens. “And you’re how old now?”

“I turn twenty in November.”

“Okay.” He leans forward, locking eyes with me. “I’m going to be straight with you. Is that okay?”

Please do.“I don’t really care.”

“Alright. I need some more information first. I’m gonna ask you a bunch of questions, rapid-fire, and I want you to answer as fast as you can.”

I have to be in some kind of fever dream. “Okay.”

“Have you been taking the same form this whole time?”

“Uh, no. I started with some generic brand; that worked for a few weeks. Then things got better, but then within a few months they put me on the slow-release, but that only lasted another few weeks.”

“You built up a tolerance?”

“Yes.”

“And what after that?”

“Back on the over-the-counter kind, then I didn’t need it for a while, and the next year I was back on the slow-release. The year after that I figured out the quick-release worked better, so they switched it.”

He’s not scribbling on a pad or anything, just listening intently as I talk. It’s unsettling.

“Don’t you need to write this down?

He smiles, tapping his head. “I keep it all up here. I hide the knowledge in the hair. Don’t worry. So, how much is your current dose?”

Don’t worry. Sure.“Five milligrams, as needed.”

He tilts his head. “And how much is ‘as needed’?”

I try not to wince. “It’s not…that often.”

“Once a day? Once a week?”

I sigh, swiping my hair out of my face. “Once every two days, then the next week alternate the days; then one week on, two weeks off.” Usually the full week, combined with training, is enough to keep me knocked out enough to get a fine enough night’s sleep, or at least enough to keep me functioning with the help of a hefty caffeine dose. “I have a system,” I clarify, as if it weren’t obvious enough. One that took forever to figure out, to minimize usage and maximize effectiveness. I’m perversely proud of it.

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