Ain't No Mountain High Enough

"Livin' On a Prayer"

Just as I thought, I woke up the next morning with what had to be the world's worst hangover. I was drenched in a cold sweat, my head was pounding, and I was pretty sure my tongue had been cut out and replaced with a wad of incredibly dry cotton. It hurt to even move. I was pretty sure I was dehydrated too, so I was glad when Arjun appeared in the doorway. He had his HEB polo on.

"Arjun?" I sounded like a dying frog. "I thought you had to work?"

"Someone took over my shift as a birthday present, actually," he said. "I decided to come over here and take care of you losers."

Despite the fact that I felt like I'd been trampled by a stampede of elephants, I managed a smile. "Well...thanks. I could use a drink."

Arjun gave me a look. "I assume you mean water and not more of what you had last night?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course water, you idiot."

"Hey, be nice, I'm here to help." Still, he was grinning. He left for a moment, then returned with a glass of water that I gratefully took.

"Thanks," I said. I sipped some of it, then had him set it on the nightstand.

"You might as well just sleep it off, now," he said, raking his hand through his hair. "I'll check on you later."

I thanked him again, then tried to do as he said once he left to go see Veronica and Keto. But by that time, I was remembering the things from the night before. Like how I'd completely ruined the party with answering Veronica's question. Ugh, how stupid could I have been?!

It was a long time before I finally fell asleep, because I proceeded to throw my guts up for the next hour. Even one tiny sip of water wouldn't stay down. I must have fallen asleep at some point though, because I woke up in the afternoon feeling a tiny bit better. Emphasis on the "tiny" part. I wasn't as nauseous as before, and I felt like I could actually keep food down. And that was good, because it was then that I realized I had a doctor's appointment when I got a notification on my phone.

After leaving the hospital two weeks before, I quickly realized they weren't done with me yet. I had already gone to at least two follow-up appointments, and I had totally forgotten that I had scheduled another one for that day. I was getting tired of going to see the doctor, but I guess it was for my own good. I just couldn't imagine what else they could do for me.

I got Arjun to come and help me get ready to leave, and he ended up driving me to the appointment. I was feeling terrible, but I didn't feel like going through the hassle of rescheduling it either.

It seemed like forever before I was signed in and a nurse took me from Arjun and brought me up to a little room where the doctor would be seeing me. It was the same room he always saw me in, in fact. It only had two chairs, and a third chair that could roll around the room that the doctor usually sat in. There was one of those examination table/chair things, though they never put me on it before.

I ended up waiting on the doctor in the little room for some time, so I took to entertaining myself by reading the posters they had up on the door. Most of them were about things like getting flu shots and other stuff you see at every doctor's office or hospital. I quickly got bored with that and grabbed a pamphlet from the little counter that had a sink in the corner. I opened it to a random page and landed on something about running marathons, and it reminded me of something.

Oh yeah. How could I forget? Valerie's boyfriend, Stephen, ran marathons, didn't he? I glared at the picture of people with big grins on their face running down an asphalt road. What was so great about marathons? Heck, what was so great about running?!

I slammed the pamphlet on the counter before I could start ripping it to pieces, and right then there was a knock at the door. A second later, Doctor Phillips entered.

He was starting to go gray, and he already had plenty of wrinkles. Today, he had a wide smile on his face. He was a nice guy, but I didn't feel like being nice back. He instantly noticed. "Not feeling well today, Mr. Riggs?"

"Not exactly," I said, leaning back in my wheelchair. I was sure I looked like I'd been hit by a truck, since I didn't shower or do anything to make myself look presentable besides putting on actual clothes. "Um...nothing to do with the crash, though." It wasn't entirely true, but I was mostly feeling bad from the hangover. "I had a little too much to drink...too quickly."

Doctor Phillips frowned. "Well, I wouldn't recommend doing that. We might as well test you for alcohol poisoning while you're here." He gave me a look. "Was this at a party, or were you feeling down again?"

"Definitely a party," I answered. A really bad one at that.

After Doctor Phillips called a nurse in to do bloodwork, and after it was over with, he was quiet for a moment as he took a seat in the spinny chair. He put his clipboard and laptop on the counter, and he seemed to be putting his thoughts together. After a moment, he took a breath to speak. "Randal, I've been doing some thinking after what you told me in the last appointment."

I struggled to remember what exactly I had said in the last appointment. I stared at my hands, which I had folded in my lap. I vaguely remembered the morning. It had been raining, and I was feeling down. That must be what he meant when he asked if I was feeling down "again". I might have said something about that, and the fact that I felt scared every time I got into a car.

Doctor Phillips continued. "I believe it would be beneficial if you started seeing a therapist. I wanted to see what you thought about that before I recommended someone." He must have caught the wary look on my face. Man, this guy was good. "It is completely normal for people who have been in accidents like you to experience some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or perhaps even Depression."

"I don't really feel depressed," I admitted. "Just...frustrated, I guess."

"Well, I think a therapist could help with that, too," he said. He took a pen from the counter and jotted down a name and phone number on a little card, then handed it to me. "I want you to at least consider going to see her, all right? I think it could do you some good."

I stared down at the card. The woman's name was Charlotte Henderson. What's the worst that could happen? I thought. Maybe seeing a therapist would make things a little better. But I had no clue who this Charlotte lady even was. I didn't like the idea of spilling my problems to a total stranger.

I put the card in my pocket and mumbled my thanks, and the appointment went on without anything worth mentioning happening. I didn't have alcohol poisoning, thank God, but I would still have to deal with the worst hangover of my life. The appointment was downright dull, and I almost asked if I could stop coming back. They insisted that one more appointment would probably be enough for now, so I agreed to it. No use in arguing, I guess.

As soon as I got back home, I was staring at the card again. I kept thinking of how angry I had been lately. Angry at my friends for treating me like I couldn't do anything for myself. Angry at even getting into the wreck in the first place. I thought about how, deep down, I was starting to feel like a burden to the others. And after last night, I realized that it was silly of me to wish Valerie could fall in love with me again. I was nothing compared to her marathon-runner boyfriend.

And after all that thinking, I only ended up throwing the card in the trash.

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Thanks for reading!

Check on Bon Jovi's "Livin' On a Prayer"

Peace ✌ ~ A.J.