Therapeutical

𝗩 · Zᴀɴɪᴍᴀɴᴊᴇ

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞
/ɪnˈtriːɡ/

a mysterious or fascinating quality

· —————— · 𖥸 · —————— ·

I glanced up, seeing he was occupied by the record in his hand. I wasn't comfortable by the notion of him analysing me in quietude, watching my every move and possibly discreetly judging me despite clarifying he didn't.

I observed as he raised his hand to his chin, thoughtfully rubbing his fingers against his stubble. Then he finally linked his gaze back to mine.

"I just briefly went through your medical record and read you didn't have any allergies. Due to your current state, I'd like to prescribe you an antidepressant called Zoloft. Have you heard of it?"

Antidepressants? Isn't that the stuff people overdose on?

Shut up, brain.

"Um, I haven't. What is it?"

"It contains a medical component called sertraline, which is used to treat conditions such as depression, anxiety, panic attacks and obsessive-compulsive disorder. It works to balance out your serotonin levels and thus lifts your mood," he expounded. "You might experience some side effects during the first few days such as lightheadedness, dizziness, drowsiness and decreased libido. However, if you experience something more severe like abdominal pain, vomiting, skin rashes or even loss of consciousness, please call us immediately, and we'll switch your medication."

Oh wow. People actually faint over pills in regular doses?

Thanks, Dr Arh. Now I'm a little concerned.

"Okay, but... Do I have to pay for that? Also, do I start taking them now?" I enquired quietly.

"No, Zoloft is covered by insurance, so you don't have to pay anything. I'll prescribe you fifty-milligram pills, but for the first four days, starting tomorrow, only take half of the pill to allow your body to regulate. Ensure to have your dose around the same time every day, preferably in the morning, to receive its full functionality throughout the day."

I stilled for a moment. "Okay."

Upon facing the PC to type on the keyboard, he asked: "Do you drink alcohol?"

I pursed my lips. "Um, on occasion. Why?"

He ceased typing, shifting towards me. "Because it's not recommended to mix antidepressants with alcohol since alcohol is a depressant. In case you do, your medication could do more harm than good due to their contradicting nature."

Well, shit. Goodbye, alcohol, my good old friend it is.

"Does that apply only if you drink regularly, or...?"

"Ksenija... It's really not a good idea," he spoke smoothly.

Awkwardly disconnecting our eye contact, I affirmed: "Um... Okay, I won't then."

Leaning back on his chair, he glanced at me again. "Can you promise me one more thing?"

"What?"

"Don't do anything reckless with the medication I just prescribed you," he notified, then jutted his hand towards me. "Promise me."

I'd promptly discerned the hint of concern in his voice, peeping at his open palm that was patiently waiting to conjoin with mine as I promised him I wouldn't do anything to harm myself. But promising him also meant I owed myself the same.