Chapter Eleven: Stressed to the Max
Scene One: Early afternoon
Dr. Monsour dropped by later that afternoon. It was a defining moment in my life. After all, I would now discover the cause of my extreme discomfort. Of course some of that could be blamed on AJ, who was now reclining on my legs. Kevin told him to get off, but AJ pointed out the scientific significance of his position. If I puked because he was on my legs AJ might have proof of an unknown nerve between the calf and the stomach. That was just so weird that Kevin shut up.
“Mr. Carter, how are we this afternoon?” Good. My doctor was as bright and shiny as a new penny. Things couldn’t be that bad. Unless there were that bad and my doctor was happy about the large sums of money he was about to squeeze out of me and my unsuspecting insurance company. Of course they are already in the “going to have the shit surprised out of us” category for the Pug Pee/IV incident. I hope they don’t refuse payment.
“Well, I’m sure you are anxious to get the results of the test so we can get to work on treating your problem.” Why no! What makes you think that? I’m not sick. I’ve only been working to improve my liquid spewing skills for the upcoming contest. It’s for charity.
“Nick what we see here...” And damn it, we did! The freak had pictures! Real pictures of the inside of me. There’s a Kodak moment I never want repeated. My lunch tried to have other ideas, but I forced it back. Spew on Howie you get yelled at. Spew on AJ you get killed.
“Easy Nick, you OK?” NO! Did I or did I not almost redecorate this room without the aid of fabric?
“Here, lean back and I’ll just talk, no more pictures.” Thank you. Just describe the condition, visual aids are not necessary.
“First, Nick has a virus. He...”
“A VIRUS?” They stuck a camera in my guts, made me eat radio-active waste, stuck me a total of five times (That I can remember) and gave me a freaking enema for a VIRUS?
“Easy Nick, let Dr. Monsour finish. I’m sure there’s more.” There damn well better be. It better be some unheard of virus that is very deadly. And I get to name it. How about “’N Stinky?” I like that.
“Nick, you do have a virus, but that is not your main problem. The virus is being aggravated by...”
“Howie?” Remember, I was still on pain killers.
“Nick...hush.” Yes, Kevin, but don’t think I didn’t miss that look. Either Kevin was going to smack me or he was remembering the time he was trapped for three hours with Howie in an elevator. Poor guy wasn’t the same for days.
“’er...no. An ulcer. Actually several ulcers.” ULCERS? Ulcers? Wait, don’t old people get those? Or really uptight people?
“How can I have an ulcer? Kevin doesn’t have an ulcer!” That damn near broke AJ up, and Brian tried very hard not to laugh. Oh shut up, both of you. Go look at a magazine.
“Nick your ulcers are caused by a bacteria. All the stress of your rather unusual lifestyle (You mean every 20 year old doesn’t have seven or eight marriage proposals a day? Not to mention a guy that changes his hair color every five minutes? And a small dog that really looks like a rat (Sorry Bri, I know the truth hurts.) that farts all the time? Or...I’m losing it again.) has escalated the situation. Then along came this virus, and there you have it!” Have what? There I have what?
“What’s the treatment?” Oh damn you Kevin, be calm. Breath in Nick, ulcers are not so bad. Bacteria, right? So I just take some medicine and I’ll be fine!
“Well, we’ll have him on medicine that will fight the bacteria, but that alone will not be enough. One of the ulcers is bleeding, and we really need to get it under control.” Bleeding? Where? Where does ulcer blood go? Maybe that’s how your anus is connected to an upset stomach.
“How do we do that?” Now AJ was plural. Hey, maybe that’s caused by a virus.
“Nick needs to adjust his lifestyle a bit. His eating habits must change, at least for a while. And he needs to learn some stress reducing techniques.”
“So he needs to watch what he eats?” I DO watch what I eat, thank you Brian. It’s not like I close my damn eyes. Heck, I get enough food all over with them open.
“Until the ulcers are cleared up, yes. I will have a list made up, and want Nick to see a nutritionist. But some basics are no sodas..”
“WHAT?” My stomach almost came out of my mouth on that one. I don’t think it was anymore please with that announcement that I was.
“Hush Nick, and listen. It won’t kill you to do without Cokes for a while.” How would you know? It might. Maybe they are all that keeps me alive. Maybe I’m stuck together with sugar water.
“Nick, sodas have carbonation, which is bad for an ulcer, and caffeine, which also aggravates ulcers. You also need to avoid chocolate, spicy and very fatty foods...”
“My God, you just described all that he eats!” Brain! I eat more than that! I HAD a cucumber. December 3, 1997. Dear Diary, got up, went to practice, ate green shit.
“Well, not now. Nick needs to be careful. Look Nick, it’s not for ever. Just until we get the ulcers under control. Then you can, within limits, have the foods you want. You will also need to learn how to deal with stress. There are several techniques that you can use, and exercise is one of the best.” So help me, if Kevin laughs I will shave his eyebrows. “I am going to send Dr. Prade to see you. Dr. Prade will help you learn techniques to deal with stressful situations.”
“Is he a shrink?” AJ! What a thing to ask. Of course not, I’m not crazy. Right doc? Oh, doc? Hello - DOC! I don’t like the look the doctor and Kevin are giving each other. Kevin, you creep! You knew all about this, didn’t you!
“Nick, Dr. Prade is a psychiatrists, but that’s not bad.” Says you, creep. “Dr. Monsour and I talked, and I think what he has to say makes sense. We all lead stressful lives, and with being sick it just took its toll on you. This new doctor is only going to help you lean how to handle stress, nothing else.”
Oh God, I don’t remember when I’ve been this mad. Kevin talked to the doctor? Behind my bare, gownless back? I hope your chaps chafe. Damn it, damn it, damn it. The last time I was this mad I punched AJ in the head. Of course it goes without saying that I got my ass kicked, but I was only fifteen, and that is neither here nor there.
“Nick? Man, you’re shaking. Calm down.” Brain if could I would.
“Hey Kev, why don’t you and ole doc holiday there go converse in the hallway....hummmm.” Aje? He sounds pissed. So he didn’t know. Well, I feel a bit better, and Kevin is looking a little guilty, which is fine by me.
“’K. Nick, I’ll be right back.” I won’t miss you.
“Don’t hurry on my account.” Well, what do you know. Kevin looks like he has gas. Maybe someone should take a picture of his stomach.
“Nick! That was a crappy thing to say. Maybe Kevin shouldn’t have talked to the doctor behind your back, but he was only trying to help you, to take care of you.” I hate it when Brian is right.
“Nick dude, I’d be pissed too, but you have to calm down, making yourself sicker isn’t going to help. Be mad at the situation. Kevin was just being Kevin. His nose-butting is just his way of showing that he cares.” So why do you always tell him to take a long walk off a short pier when he does it to you, Aje?
Scene Two: 4:45 PM
Almost two and a half hours later, and I was still mad. No longer shaking mad, but mad. By this time I wasn’t mad at Kevin, I realized he was trying to make it easier on me. I was mad at myself. How had I done this? How did I always managed to screw up in such great proportions? The other guys weren’t sick. They had stress, but they dealt with it. What the hell was wrong with me?
Kevin and Dr. Mounsour, not to mention Brian, AJ, and Howie, had all re-enforced the point that it was not me, rather the bacteria that was causing all the havoc. Still, at that point in time I felt like a giant tummy-loser. Excuse me, but I think I’ll pout.
“Mr. Carter? Are you awake?” Hey, open eyes are not always a sign of consciousness. “May I come in?” Nurse, I think you are confused. There is no “I”, just “we”. “Mr. Carter?”
“Sure.” Why not? Wait, you don’t happen to have a catheter on you?
“Mr. Carter, I’m Doctor Prade.” Dr. Prade? I turned over to confront the dreaded shrink, and blinked. No, no pun intended. I was trying to make sure my eyes did not have ulcers. Nope, what I saw was real. Dr. Prade, Lord love me, was tall, slender, blond, beautiful... and female. Not to mention built like a brick crap-house.
“Dr. Prade?” I thought it wise to double check. You know my luck.
“Yes, but hey, call me JC.” JC? No problem whatsoever. I sat up quickly, as certain parts of my anatomy decided to wake up from the enforced sleep of the past few days. Muscle relaxers ware off at the worst times.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Down, boy. “As a matter of fact, I’m feeling much better.” Just need to hide something, doc.
Wouldn’t you know it, JC had a wonderful laugh. Not to mention a fine speaking voice. Gentle and a bit smoky, very sexy. Why me? Good Lord, a fine looking woman and she’s my doctor. Fate sucks.
“I hope you don’t mind but Max goes wherever I go.” No I don’t mind at all doc. Excuse my while a wipe the drool of my chin. By the way, who’s Max?
“Max?”
“ ‘mere Max.” Max? I followed JC’s gaze to discover - a Basset Hound? A tri-colored Basset that was slowly making it’s way from the door to the chair Dr. Prade had flopped in. That was one slow moving dog.
“Sorry, Max is a little hyper today.” HYPER? That dog was damn near in reverse. Now I know why the cartoon dogs name is Droopy. Everything drooped on this dog. His skin, his eyes, his walk.
“Hey Max, meet Nick! By the way, do you like dogs?”
“Sure, I have four.” Man that was a big droopy dog.
“Pugs, right?” You been talking to Kevin? “Susan told me about the Houston thing.”
“Susan?” Did JC know a fan?
“Your nurse, Susan. Remember her?” She had a name?
“Oh yea. She never told me her name.”
“Did you ask?” Am I in trouble here? Doc, if your are making an attempt to reduce my stress levels you are failing.
“Uh...no.” That sounded bad. In fact, it was bad. Why hadn’t I asked her name? But, why did the doctor care? “Um...I’ve been drugged up since I got here.”
“Yea, I now. Relax Nick, I’m not going to spank you.” Oh GOD, don’t mention that! There goes that mind of mine again. Me, over doc JC’s lap, in nothing but my backless gown. Lordy, lordy, lordy. Knees to the chest, Carter. Let’s keep this clean, not to mention the sheets!
“Are you cold?” I swear her eyes had a twinkle in them. Either that or she carries her own personal mirror ball.
“Yea, a bit.” No, I’m hot. Very hot. Too damn hot. Susan? Can I get an ice-pack here? I seem to have some swelling.
“Sorry Nick, I was just yanking your chain. Just relax.” Relax. Yes, that’s the idea. Rover, relax. Sit. Stay. Heal. Play dead, for heaven’s sake!
“It’s just that so many people treat nurses like they are “nobodies”. Their job is very difficult, and some people just give them a hard time.” I wouldn’t do that, I promise! No, never. Not in a million years.
“So Nick, eaten any radio-active eggs today?” Oh shit, she knew. I swear, I was having a bad day. I took my chances and shot that grin again, and what do you know! This time it worked. JC cracked up, big time.
“It’s fine Nick. Sorry man, I just had to see your face! Wanda (I guess that was the nurse in x-ray) told me all about it. And what your friend Kevin said.” Oh, God. Two people after by backside. Damn. My butt is way too popular for my comfort.
JC just leaned down to rub Max’s back. He sighed, contented.
“Nick, I’m sure Dr. Monsour has told you why I am here. I specialize in helping people with stress, and that’s what I am going to be doing for you for the next few months.” MONTHS?
“But...but...I have a tour...” No way! I couldn’t just stop! “We can’t cancel! We have...” My voice left me for a moment. What if they guys had no intention of canceling? What if they planned to do the tour without me? If my stomach hadn’t been upset before this would have done it. I can’t imagine what my face looked like, something between having severe gas and being circumcised with a chain-saw.
“Nick, it’s OK!” Dr. Prade was by my side. She reached out and began to rub my tummy with small, slow circles. Any other time and I would have enjoyed this. But at the moment all I could think of was missing the tour.
“Nick, your not going to miss the tour!” Reading minds, are you doc?
“I’m coming with you!” Excuse me? With me? ON TOUR?
“Dr. Monsour and Kevin talked it over. You need a few months of assistance in dealing with the stress. So, presto! I’m coming!” What else had Dr. M and Kevin decided without consulting me?
“Nick, it will be cool. You’ll see.” She lean in, eyes soft and compassionate. That would have been all good, except with her hand still on my stomach her arm was in the position to....to...brush against...well, I should have asked for that ice-pack. To say something perked right up goes without saying. Dr. Prade perked up a bit too, at least the smile on her face did. The twinkle in her damn eyes almost blinded me.
“So, Nick,” I swear she purred. “I’ve always wondered.” Oh God, what? Is it true what they say about men and the size of their feet? “Why do you guys call AJ bone?” Shoot me, please.
“He’s really thin.” The truth shall set you free.
“Really? Damn. I always thought it was because of the “Mr. Happies” he tend to get in concert.” I am going to die. Right now. Bury me face down so you don’t have to explain the “bulge” in the coffin top.
“Nick, I think this is going to be an interesting tour.” No shit, Sherlock. “Don’t you worry. By the time I’m done you will be as relaxed as good ‘ole Max.” I will never relax again. At least not until I am between the sheets in my very private hotel room. Rubber gloves for the housekeepers are on me!
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