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I remember this time, a few weeks ago, when Nick and I were watching one of his superhero movies, Spiderman, I think. Well, this character said something along the lines of, I always expect disappointment, so I’m never disappointed. A great idea, isn’t it? In theory, it’s wonderful. In practice… not so much. I told myself before this appointment that I wouldn’t expect anything, because why would anything come of this when nothing successful had come out of any appointment for the past six months. I expected disappointment and I was disappointed. And now I feel like shit.
I know that Nick would want me to text him when I’m feeling like this, but I just can’t. He loves me, he really does, he just doesn’t get this. He doesn’t know what it feels like to hurt every single day. He tries so hard, but I don’t know how he can help me through this. I’m spiraling and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop. Because, what if it hurts forever? What if I never know why? What if I’m damaged goods for eternity? Sometimes I really hate my mind for taking me here, but I can’t seem to stop.
I open my eyes and sit up in my bed, because sitting in a puddle of pity all day isn’t going to help, as much as I want it to. I think about what Geoff talked about with me, having the desire to pull myself out of a spiral. And this time, I want that, I don’t want to feel this way. Then again, I don’t know how to get out. My mind just keep pulling me under and every time I surface, another wave drags me down.
“Knock, knock.”
I look up to see Tori standing in the doorway, holding two glasses of lemonade.
“Can I come in?”
I debate telling her no, but then I think of Geoff. Talking to my brooding sister is one way to distract myself, which is a step in the right direction.
“I guess so.”
I can hear in my voice the resignation and disappointment, but Tori’s seen me at my worst, so I don’t even bother hiding it.
“You need some floor time,” she says, looking at me, then plopping down into a crisscrossed position on the floor. God, I miss the days when I used to be able to sit like that. I push that thought out of my head because dwelling on the past does nothing. When I don’t slide down onto the floor next to her, she raises her eyebrow at me, a silent invitation to join her.
“Fine,” I mutter, as I get off my bed and sit down on the floor across from her, leaning my back against my bed and straightening my legs out in front of me. She hands me a glass of lemonade, then takes a slurp of hers.
“Mum told me your appointment was good.” She looks at me as she says this, seemingly trying to gauge my reaction.
“All my tests were normal.” I say this like it’s the worst thing that could happen, because honestly, it feels like it is.
“So,” she says, “what you mean is that the appointment was shit.”
I laugh at this, but in all honesty I’m closer to tears.
“Yeah,” I say, through my half laugh half sob.
“I don’t want my tests to be normal. I want them to be awful and scary, or at least say something. I need something to tell me this isn’t all in my head. I mean, when I was younger and they attributed it to growing pains, that made sense. But now, now there's no excuse and I’m afraid I just going crazy. All I want is to feel better, but how can that happen if there’s nothing wrong with me?”
I stare down at my hands and try not to let the tears in my eyes fall. I hate how weak and insignificant I feel. I know a lot of it is in my head, but hell, that’s half the problem. I never thought I’d say out loud what I’ve just told Tori. I’ve never even thought of telling Nick. I can’t have the two people in my life who don’t tread on glass around me starting to think I’m fragile. God, I can’t believe I just said that to Tori.
“Charlie,” Tori says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Charles, look at me.”
I bring my eyes up to meet hers. There’s sympathy there, but something else too, something I don’t recognize.
“You’re not crazy.”
I stare at her, then say, “I don’t know that that statement means much coming from either of us.”
Tori doesn’t smile and I realize that she’s here. She wants me to talk to her, which is something I’m still not used to if I’m totally honest. My eyes go back to my hands, but I can still hear Tori stand up, then feel her settle in next to me. She takes my hand and my eyes go up to meet hers.
“Charlie, I don’t care if you believe me, but I really want you to. You are not crazy. For starters, I can literally see how swollen your knee is right now. That’s not something you can make up in your head.”
“I guess you’re right.” I say it out loud, but I’m still not so sure.
“I heard Mum’s version of how the appointment went, but do you want to tell me? I know you’ve been waiting to see this doctor and you had high hopes. We can talk through it, but only if you think it’ll help.”
Sometimes I forget how much I love my sister and then she goes and does something like this. Looking into her face I know that she’s here for this conversation, she’s not going to back out.
“Okay,” I say, closing my eyes and taking a breath, “yeah, you’re right. I really did have high hopes, and I guess they’re not entirely crushed. We sort of have a plan, I just have no idea how this is all going to work out or even if-”
“Hey, Charlie,” Tori says, interrupting me, “start at the beginning. I’ve got time.”
“Well we got there and they did some x-rays, which of course looked normal. We didn’t even get to see the doctor today though, we saw her nurse practitioner. I know nurses know a lot, I just, I don’t know, I want someone who really knows what they’re doing. Anyway, when we finally got brought back to the exam room, she did all the normal tests and stuff, and well, she was worried. It sounds stupid, but her being worried made me happyy. It kind of gave me some reassurance that it’s not just in my head. She just thinks it’s so weird that I’ve been in pain almost constantly for the past five years, but no one has even found a reason why. She gave me some hope that maybe this will finally be a doctor who doesn’t just want to manage the symptoms, but actually figure out why it always hurts.”
Tori looks to me, making sure I’m done. I nod, because I honestly don’t know if I have the capacity to talk about this anymore.
“You know, that doesn’t sound like total crap.”
“I guess not” I say, thinking back on past appointments that I’ve had, ones that had been much worse.
“Do you have a plan, just like, something to try to figure this out?”
I laugh, because the plan for this doctor is almost the same as every other I’ve ever been to.
“Oh, you’ll never guess what they want to do,” I look to her as I speak, letting her know we can lighten the mood. “MRI, because the last four that have shown nothing aren’t enough.”
“Hey, who knows, this might be the one.” As she speaks, she has this hopeful look on her face and I get this feeling that maybe this time it’ll be okay.
“We’ll see. It just, feels kind of scary to have hope. I don’t want to be let down.”
“I know,” She says, as she pulls me into a hug, resting her head atop mine.
I don’t really know what possesses me, but suddenly I’m blurting out, “Hey Tori, can I tell you something?”
Tori looks at me quizzicaly, pulling away from our hug.
“Haven’t you been telling me things?”
“Yeah well, this is something I’ve never told anyone. I, um-”
I don’t really know how to say this to her, how to say it to anyone. Sure, I’ve had the idea floating around in my head for ages, but saying it out loud feels like making it real. To her credit, Tori stays silent, giving me space to come up with the words I need. I look back down at my hands, because if I’m going to tell her this, I don’t know that I can handle her reaction.
“Do you ever see someone when we’re out shopping or eating dinner at a restaurant or something, and they look cool or have something you want and you just get so jealous of them?”
Tori looks confused, but humors me, saying, “I guess so…”
“Well,” I swallow, knowing that once I say this, there's no going back, “whenever I’m out in public and I see someone young with like, a cane or forearm crutches or something, I just get so jealous. I know that sounds so stupid, cuz like, I’m a pretty healthy teenager and I shouldn’t want a mobility aid like that. I just, I don’t know, I think about how much easier everything would be. If I had something to help me on the bad days, it just seems so nice. But then, there’s all these people out there who have it so much worse than me and I feel like if I did have something I’d feel like a faker. This is going to sound even stupider, but, well, sometimes I fantasize in my mind and make up these situations where I tell my friends that I’m going to start using a forearm crutch on bad days. God, it sounds so stupid and I shouldn’t want something like that, I just can’t stop thinking about it lately.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I can’t believe I’ve said them. This fantasy of a mobility aid has been mine for so long and it feels so weird to share it. Like what teenager dreams about forearm crutches?
“Charlie,” Tori says, but there’s a sort of hesitancy in her voice, as if she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think- I think it’s brave.”
I stare at her in shock. “Really?”
“Well, yeah. Charlie, you’ve been in almost constant pain for years. And don’t say you haven’t been, because I can tell when you’re trying to hide it. It isn’t stupid to hope for relief, to try to find things that might make you feel better. Would you think it was silly if I told you I have all these scenarios in my head where I ask Mum and Dad if I can start going to therapy?”
“Of course not,” I say in surprise, “if I get to see Geoff you should be able to talk to someone if you need to.”
“See, if that isn’t silly, then you hoping for something to make your bad days better isn’t silly either. You deserve to have relief, Charlie, you deserve to feel physically comfortable in your body.”
“I guess I never really though of it that way, but it does make sense.”
“Of course it does,” she says with a smirk, “I’m your older sister, everything I say makes sense. Now drink your lemonade before I do.”