Page 30 of SEAL of Valor

“I have never taken one of those benzodia-whatevers in my life. I don’t even know what they are,” my mom snaps.

“Xanax is prescribed pretty frequently. Same with Valium or Klonopin.”

“I have never taken any of those,” my mom insists, her tone getting more and more agitated by the second.

Is this more forgetfulness? Did she get prescribed something and then forget? What other explanation is there?

“If she says she wasn’t prescribed them, then I believe her. Are you sure it couldn’t be something else? Something that might have given a false positive to those medications?” I make a mental note to call her normal doctor tomorrow and request her medical records.

He shakes his head, his gaze darting from me to my mom, then back to me again. “This is something that can be purchased by other means, too,” he says.

“Are you saying I bought drugs?” my mom screeches. “I have never done drugs in my life!” Her heart rate monitor alarm goes off, and I turn toward her, my own pulse jumping in response.

“You have to calm down.”

“This man just called me a drug addict!” she yells.

“I know. I’ll deal with it, okay?”

She glares at him. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here. No one believes me. They see an old woman and automatically assume I have no idea what I’m talking about. Shameful, that’s what it is.”

“I know, Mom. I’ve got this, but please calm down.”

She lies back down but continues glaring in the doctor’s direction. With her calm—for the moment—I shift my attention back toward him. “You say there is no risk of a false positive, but there has to be a logical explanation. So, in your professional opinion, what are some other ways these could have gotten into her system?”

“Professional,” my mom scoffs. “What a joke.”

“Mom,” I snap. A nasty headache begins to bud at the base of my spine. This is going to be a day.

She doesn’t meet my gaze, but turns her attention away from the doctor, choosing instead to stare at the window. Once more, I re-focus on the doctor in front of me, who is looking increasingly frustrated by the moment.

“Does anyone else live in the home? Is it possible she got the bottles mixed up and added some to a pill organizer by accident?”

“No, I—” I start.

“Yes, because this little old lady can’t distinguish an orange prescription bottle from a much larger supplement one,” my mom interrupts.

If I weren’t so terrified that something is seriously going on with her, then I would have laughed. What else can I do? She’s angry, my head is pounding, and we are getting nowhere with this guy.

Focus on the problem, then piece together the rest. If she weren’t prescribed these meds, then there has to be something else going on. Because the thought that my mom—a self-taught naturopathic—would be buying pills in an alley somewhere? It’s absolutely laughable. “What are the other side effects of this?” I ask him.

“Confusion, short-term memory loss, sleepiness, balance issues, and dizziness.” His tone is sharp, and the annoyance is written all over his face.

Well, that goes both ways, buddy. Ever heard of bedside manner?

“What can we do for a treatment?” I ask.

“Go through her house, find those pills, and dispose of them responsibly.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all that’s needed. And if your mother is truly forgetting things of this magnitude, it might be time to get her some help. We’ll get her discharge papers filled out.” With that, he turns and leaves the room.

“I did not buy drugs, Reese,” she insists. “I have not taken a prescription since those antibiotics seven years ago.”

“I believe you, Mom,” I reply with a half-hearted smile as the headache continues to build and white spots invade my vision. While stress headaches are a regular occurrence in my life, it’s been a month since my last migraine attack. But it is starting to feel like that streak is coming to a painful ending. “We’ll get home and find out what’s going on, okay? I promise.”

It’s only through prayer that I found the strength to climb the steps onto Weston’s porch. Aside from the repaired railing and sturdy porch boards, the cabin looks nearly exactly like it did all those years ago when my family moved here.