Fragments

3.8

            3.8

            "You've been diagnosed with PTSD," Dr. Moore says, his hands intertwined on top of his desk. "Do you know what that stands for, Piper?"

           "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

            "It's very understandable why you might have a lot of stress in your life, Piper." Each time he says my name it's like I'm trying to swallow a pill. "But I think the reason the attacks came on was because of your medication. Sometimes depression medication can make anxiety worse."

            "So I have anxiety?" It's like my diagnosis is being changed every second.

            "Anxiety and depression are a part of Post-Traumatic Stress." He leans forward. "With you permission, we can change your medication, or stop it all together. Normally we talk to your parent or guardian, but in this case, since you've been cooperative, I want to give you a choice. You can think about it for a few days."

            I don't hesitate. "I want to stop it all together."

            Dr. Moore nods. "And I will consent to that and sign the papers, but on one condition."

            Of course there's a catch.

            "I want you to talk in our weekly meetings, Piper. I want to help you, but more importantly for you to help yourself."

            "Okay," I say slowly, cautious.

            "I'd like a bit of a down payment, per say. I'd like for us to talk today about what's causing your stress. I'd like to talk about what started it all."

            "You'd like to talk about Trevor," I deadpan.

            Dr. Moore nods, a small smile on his thin lips. "Yes. I would like to talk about Trevor."