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“This,” I said. “I take it for anxiety.”
“May I have a portion to analyze?” she asked. I snapped off a segment of the pill bar, and held it out to her.
She tapped the screen and a small tray slid out of it. She took the sample from me and dropped it in the tray and it slid into the back of the screen.
“That is the issue,” she nodded. “You take it for mental anxiety, but instead it causes a physical anxiety reaction when you are not on it.”
“That’s not okay.” I frowned. “Why didn’t they tell me that? My doctor said the side effects were mild. My panic attacks are not mild.”
“Your doctor said it had mild side effects?” Doctor Lavinsar’s ears flattened for a brief moment. “This would cause long term damage, including memory loss and disorientation. Suddenly stopping this could cause seizures and can kill you. It is harmful. Without proper medical equipment, that your species doesn’t have yet, it would be extremely challenging to taper off of this as it has to be done in very small increments over an extensive period of time.”
“I don’t know if I want to get off it.” I shoved the Blamex back in my purse. “I don’t want to feel the way I felt before it. I was stressed out all the time.”
“What was your life like before you started it?” she asked.
“Normal stuff. I was auditioning a lot for different roles and working on building my social media presence.” I shrugged. It had been pretty stressful, especially when I’d post a picture that I thought was classy and beautiful and the comments I would get would make me feel like I was on a sinking ship. Didn’t matter if I wore a shawl or a swimsuit, random strangers just wanted to let me know that looking at me turned them on.
It was easy to take those comments as a compliment, but they were often paired with subtext, microaggressions that I tried not to pay attention to. I was an actress. Being judged by my appearance was all a part of life.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what any of that means,” Doctor Lavinsar crooned.
“Lots of people were commenting on the things I did,” I replied. “I was being judged a lot. I wasn’t making much money and I had to spend a lot on maintaining myself and my appearance to the industry standard. It was stressful.”
“Is your life different now?” Doctor Lavinsar asked.
I hesitated.
Then I shook my head.
“If anything, I’d say its more stressful.” I lifted my hands and gestured at the spaceship. “I’m in the gaze of the public and they want to know what I’m doing and have opinions about it.”
She nodded and turned back to her tablet and tapped on it.
“I can give you something to balance out your biochemistry and fix the problem,” she continued to tap on it, her motions in time with her sing-song words so that for a moment, it felt like I was in a surreal musical. Looking at anything the Norratar did always made me feel like that. For a moment, I felt grateful my new husband was a giant snake man who didn’t feel the need to wiggle about every time he wanted to say something.
“But unless you deal with the underlying issue, you could find yourself drawn back to the nonfunctional medication and repeat the cycle,” she sang.
“How am I supposed to do that?” I crossed my arms. “I’m not quitting acting.”
“If you aren’t willing to reduce the situations that cause you the stress, you must increase them instead, to an extreme degree.” Doctor Lavinsar pulled something off the bottom of the screen and held it out to me. It looked like a thermometer that took your temperature reading when you placed it against your head.
“Extreme degree?” I prodded.
“It doesn’t have to be the exact same situation,” Doctor Lavisar replied. “You need to put yourself in heightened states of adrenaline and anxiety.”
“To get better, you want me to suffer more,” I rephrased, my tone flat and bland.
“Exactly.” Doctor Lavisar beamed at me. “It will be hard to do that on your own. I’ve sent your husband and you the recommendations on your wrist units. Please wait to take that biochemical balancer until right before you are ready to begin the immersion therapy. It will work best if you do them together.”
I looked at the small thing in my hand and then put it in my purse.
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “I’ll save the self-torture for when I’m ready.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do it yourself.” She smiled. “I can send all the details to your mate. The Atisari are well known for their threat displays, and I’m certain he can help you come up with a plan to make the most of this treatment. Is it alright if I send all the details to him as well?”
My mouth went dry for a moment.
“No, I don’t want that,” I said, ignoring the fluttering excitement in my chest. “I just met him.”
