Chapter Text
Tim was no stranger to forgetting his meds. He knew from experience that missing one day wouldn't throw him off too far, if he'd even notice at all. One day was fine. However, Tim hadn't gone more than a couple days in a row without his meds since he got his prescription. Logically he knew that going cold-turkey on SSRIs could fuck a person up, but he'd never experienced it firsthand. That was, until now.
Listen, being the heir to multiple billion-dollar companies certainly had its perks, but as far as Tim could tell, no amount of money could fix the absolute dogshit that was the healthcare and pharmaceutical system. Tim had been on SSRIs since he was 15. His prescription hadn't changed since 16, and he has had no reason to adjust it since then. Therefore, it should have been extremely easy to obtain said prescription in a timely manner, right?
Wrong.
One thing no one tells you—or maybe just Tim, now that he thinks about it—is that when you turn 19 and your original prescriber was a pediatrician, they stop prescribing for you. Apparently, the patient is solely responsible for putting on their big-kid pants and asking a new doctor to become their prescriber. Surprise!
If Tim had to guess, this was probably one of those things that his parents would have told him if they had been more present in his childhood while they were alive. Unfortunately for him, Tim grew up in a boarding school and this particular situation was decidedly not in the syllabus.
The particular situation that Tim has found himself in should not be hard to resolve. Typically, the patient should call up their old doc and ask for a refill while they wait for a new doc to take over. That patient would easily avoid a forced withdrawal from their medication because such systems are in place.
Since nothing could go right for Timothy Jackson Drake, this was not a typical situation. Tim's old pediatrician just so happened to be on vacation for the next month, which he'd learned when he called and asked; Tim's original prescriber was officially out of the picture. Great. The next logical step for someone in Tim's position would be to track down a new doctor that treats adults and ask them for the prescription. Fortunately, Tim had that in the bag; he already had a general practitioner that fit the bill. Unfortunately, his doctor wouldn't have any available appointments for the next two weeks.
It was time to face the facts. Tim ran out of pills yesterday. Usually he would have had this handled before it ever became a problem, but Tim was off-world for a month on a mission and didn't have much time to direct his attention elsewhere. Sue him!
This brings us to now. Tim was sat on his bed with two feet on the floor, his posture clearly showing defeat as he leaned his weight down onto his forearms that were resting on his lap. His head was tilted slightly to the left so his eyes could trace the empty orange bottle on his nightstand. He sighed, deflating, and threw himself backwards to lay further on the bed. This is going to suck, he thought to himself as he considered his near future.