part 1 (of 7)
When she swallowed an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills, the singer could hear bees. She even twitched and swatted around at the insects in her brain.
When her eyes flashed open the bees were still with her. Buzzing until they degraded into the beep of hospital equipment. Stomach pumped, the musician was rescued from a dark abyss of swarming insects.
"All I'm asking is if this is an anti-psychotic, a mood stabilizer or an antidepressant..." she asked her doctor.
The man looked up from his electronic device and tightened his jaw. "Is it the appearance that bothers you?"
The singer looks down at the speckled pills in her hands. They are egg-shaped and like nothing she has ever seen in medicine.
"They look like they belong in a Dr. Seuss book..." she answered, her voice dipping into frustration. "Like Easter Candy. But, no, that' not what bothers me."
"Listen," the doctor looks down once again. "I am required by law to medicate you or else hospitalize you."
"I know. The nurse practitioner told me. I'm crazy, I get it. How strong is this stuff?"
"Strong enough to keep you from being a danger to yourself."
The singer began to feel teeth loosening in her mouth the following day. Only the wisdom teeth and those furthest back bothered her and at first she thought it a trick of her mind. In her apartment she sat at the piano to practice a new song. She had just brushed her teeth and her reflection revealed a woman almost thirty years of age, green eyes with hair that was bleached white. But at the roots brown began to grow out. Without her stage make-up she appeared frail, frightened. She brushed her teeth with fury, a usual mark of pride for her. Why would her adult teeth be loose?
At the piano, practicing her range, blood trickled down her tongue and a back tooth clicked against one of the keys. She blinked down at the instrument's teeth, where her own bloodied white sat stupidly and without explanation.
"It does have some minor but strange side effects. Anger is the most common."
"A tooth fell out!"
"That's more rare," the doctor's voice was distant over the buzz of bad reception. "You may have to wait it out. Unless you want the other option."
"The mental ward?" the musician asked, throat catching.
"Losing the tooth was probably a coincidence this time. Have you been taking the pill with a meal?"
She turned the candy-like pills in her palm before answering, "Yes. But I've also been tasting blood. All day long."
"Do you fall asleep after taking the pill?"
"I take it at night."
"Yes, that and cotton mouth are a small side effect."
"I'm about to sign up for the mental hospital."
"Are you sure you want to do that."
The musician does not wait to retract, "No. No, I don't ever want to go back there."
"You're worrying yourself. Try to relax."
When she swallowed an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills, the singer could hear bees. She even twitched and swatted around at the insects in her brain.
When her eyes flashed open the bees were still with her. Buzzing until they degraded into the beep of hospital equipment. Stomach pumped, the musician was rescued from a dark abyss of swarming insects.
"All I'm asking is if this is an anti-psychotic, a mood stabilizer or an antidepressant..." she asked her doctor.
The man looked up from his electronic device and tightened his jaw. "Is it the appearance that bothers you?"
The singer looks down at the speckled pills in her hands. They are egg-shaped and like nothing she has ever seen in medicine.
"They look like they belong in a Dr. Seuss book..." she answered, her voice dipping into frustration. "Like Easter Candy. But, no, that' not what bothers me."
"Listen," the doctor looks down once again. "I am required by law to medicate you or else hospitalize you."
"I know. The nurse practitioner told me. I'm crazy, I get it. How strong is this stuff?"
"Strong enough to keep you from being a danger to yourself."
The singer began to feel teeth loosening in her mouth the following day. Only the wisdom teeth and those furthest back bothered her and at first she thought it a trick of her mind. In her apartment she sat at the piano to practice a new song. She had just brushed her teeth and her reflection revealed a woman almost thirty years of age, green eyes with hair that was bleached white. But at the roots brown began to grow out. Without her stage make-up she appeared frail, frightened. She brushed her teeth with fury, a usual mark of pride for her. Why would her adult teeth be loose?
At the piano, practicing her range, blood trickled down her tongue and a back tooth clicked against one of the keys. She blinked down at the instrument's teeth, where her own bloodied white sat stupidly and without explanation.
"It does have some minor but strange side effects. Anger is the most common."
"A tooth fell out!"
"That's more rare," the doctor's voice was distant over the buzz of bad reception. "You may have to wait it out. Unless you want the other option."
"The mental ward?" the musician asked, throat catching.
"Losing the tooth was probably a coincidence this time. Have you been taking the pill with a meal?"
She turned the candy-like pills in her palm before answering, "Yes. But I've also been tasting blood. All day long."
"Do you fall asleep after taking the pill?"
"I take it at night."
"Yes, that and cotton mouth are a small side effect."
"I'm about to sign up for the mental hospital."
"Are you sure you want to do that."
The musician does not wait to retract, "No. No, I don't ever want to go back there."
"You're worrying yourself. Try to relax."
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