‘You’ll Fight it/You’ll Go Out Fighting/ All Along

Hot exam room. The sweater seemed smart this morning when it was about fifty degrees out. Now I am burning in my clothes.

;Any medication changes?;

Grimace. <I am always honest with doctors> ;I’ve been taking valium sometimes. Just some nights.
                                                                                                                                                                      So I can sleep.;

Pause. ;Every night?;

;No. Just when the anxiety’s bad. One to three nights a week.;

He looks at me a thousand times more concerned than when I told him I smoke pot during my new patient visit.

;Where do you get it?;

I look at him blankly. ;My cupboard.;

He writes me a prescription because he is worried that I will buy it on the street. I want to look at him and laugh and laugh. We all live in the woods, guy. Who do you think I’m buying valium from, drug lords? You would be as reasonable to worry that I’m trading tomatoes from my garden to squirrels for their anti-anxiety drugs. <The truth is, of course, that we trade pot to a friend’s mom for valium because she likes it better and I like to sleep some nights>

;We’ll make a call up to [redacted] and see what’s going on up there. Someone should have gotten in touch with you by now, I don’t understand why you haven’t gotten an appointment.;