Chapter 11
“Ugh, I’m so glad you blocked him,” Miri says with disgust, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I sigh, resting my face on my hand. “Yeah, like that’s gotta count as harassment, right? Spamming me with calls and then telling me I should go out with him is just-“ I make a disgusted noise, reclining in my seat.
Miri nods, still looking pretty angry. “What a dickhead. Well, let’s not hang out in the library anymore, hopefully that way we can avoid Rodger.”
Sighing again, I groan slightly. “Yeah but I still have to share a class with him. My only hope is that he’ll arrive before me so I can sit somewhere else, but I don’t trust him to not find some way to sit next to me. I told him straight up that I don’t like him, but I swear to God if he keeps pushing for this…” I trail off, feeling uncomfortable.
Glancing at my watch, I huff in annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, why did I make an appointment again?! I must be crazy. Wish me luck,” I say sarcastically, but I genuinely need luck on my side. Miri crosses her fingers for me, waving goodbye as I leave her at the tables.
Hopping on a bus, I get off at the stop closest to the hospital. Sitting down in the waiting area, I close my eyes. Please just don’t be arthritis. I don’t think it is; my mother’s symptoms and mine and fairly different, but there’s still a chance it could be osteoarthritis in its early stages.
It’s probably nothing. I probably just strained my wrist doing…something. I don’t even know what could strain it, ah fuck just calm down. My wrists have been painful practically non-stop for the past week, and I’ve had to take painkillers like all the time, which I wouldn’t dare do if I was at my parents’ house.
One time when I was a kid I broke my arm, and as a result I couldn’t play the piano for months. It got so bad my dad gave me painkillers, and when my mother found out, she slapped me and told me I was being weak over such a tiny injury. She said as a man, I should be able to deal with a little bit of pain. I was only eight years old.
“Mr Griffin Tellerson?”
Snapping my eyes open, I stand up, following the woman to a doctor’s office. Thanking her, I knock briefly before opening the door. “May I call you Griffin?” The doctor asks once I’ve taken my seat, and I nod.
“So, what’s the issue today Griffin?”
I explain to her about the pain in my wrists, what it feels like, how often I get it, that sort of thing. The first question she asks is if anyone in my family has arthritis. After an X-ray, she tells me to come back in two days and we’ll go through the results.
“Is there a chance it isn’t arthritis?” I ask, and she smiles. “There’s always a chance, but we can’t know for sure at this stage. We’ll see what the X-ray gives us, and we’ll go from there. Be careful Griffin, and I’ll see you soon.”
Thanking her, I trudge back to my dorm, messaging Beck to say I won’t be online for a few days. I need to make sure I don’t do anything too strenuous for a few days, at least until we know what’s wrong.
—————
“Well, it’s not arthritis,” she says. I let out a breath of relief. It’s not arthritis. I can still play the piano. My mother won’t be angry at me.
“Monoarticular joint pain, that’s what we’re thinking. Arthralgia.”
I stare at the doctor, having no clue what she’s talking about. She smiles sympathetically, showing me the X-ray scans.
“What you’re experiencing currently is standard joint pain. It’s the type of thing a lot of people get. However, the bad news is that you’ve got it quite badly. As you can see, this bit right here, is rubbing where it shouldn’t, in both wrists.”
I keep staring at her. “What does that mean then?”
“It’s a birth defect. Unless you want to get surgery, there’s not much we doctors can do. It’ll have to be lifestyle changes, or keeping things how they are now, and dealing with the pain.”
Fuck.
“So…I guess playing the piano sounds like a bad idea?”
She nods, tapping a pen against her fingers. “Definitely no piano-playing. Preferably, do as little writing as well as other wrist movements- maybe switch to typing on a laptop so the angle of your wrists is different, and try not to use a mouse, the angle puts pressure on all the painful bits.”
Fuck.
“No piano-playing, and no video games?” I ask, my heart sinking. She nods, turning back to her computer.
“I can prescribe you some analgesics; celecoxib. This, combined with these lifestyle changes, will keep the pain to a minimum. With the medication, only take them if the pain is bad, as it has been for the past few weeks. If it’s feeling ok, try to go without them. That being said, if you’re in a lot of discomfort, please take them.”
Wait so am I supposed to take them or not then?
“Ok, thank you very much.”
—————
Sighing, I put down the list of side effects the analgesic has. I guess all drugs really do have a lot of side effects. All I can hope is that I don’t experience them, or at least not the worst ones.
There’s only a few days before my date with Beck, but I feel like shit; my excitement overshadowed with this feeling of despair.
I don’t want to be stuck on medicine for the rest of my life, but it’s either that, or dealing with the pain without any help. Or getting surgery I guess, but the idea of that or having steroids injected into my wrists doesn’t sound fun either.
What will mother say when I tell her I can’t play the piano anymore?
Hopefully, she’ll just give up, and let me do as I please. Somehow, I feel like that won’t be how she reacts, however.
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