Space They Cannot Touch

43.

"You'll feel a pinch and then it'll be like you've downed five or six cocktails" murmured the anaesthetist, gently sticking the needle into the back of your hand.

You winced and turned away, trying to ignore the rushing in your ears as your heart beat erratically. It wasn't just the needle; it was D&C day and you felt like a slab of meat on the butchers table. The numerous bright lights hovering above you and the bustling of the OR did little to make you feel at ease.

You swallowed thickly, conjuring Tom's face to calm yourself. He had been pretty much glued to your side since he returned from the U.S, calling work to tell them you were unwell and wouldn't be in for the week. You'd spent the last few days holed up with him, sleeping and binging on Netflix.

Tom had supported your decision to find a psychiatrist, which had turned out to be easier than you expected. You'd contacted Dr Mandapati about your burgeoning anxiety levels and told her that it was beyond your ability to manage alone. She'd given you a referral to see a colleague of hers and you'd had your first session yesterday, Tom sitting in at your insistence. Dr Marchant had listened calmly as you explained your history with Jack, Mum and Louise.

"It's not unusual to experience what you're experiencing Y/N. You've had a diagnosis that's affected what you had built in your head as the natural order of events in your life, not to mention your previous traumas being rehashed with your sister and ex at the same time" Dr Marchant said calmly.

"It's not?" you asked, floored by her reply.

"No. I do believe burning your dress was an extreme action, but one you committed under the growing pressure of your anxiety. It's not uncommon for people to reach their breaking point over something seemingly small and insignificant, but it's really that they've been bottling up their feelings for so long that it becomes too much, and thus they 'explode'" she replied. Tom snorted and you elbowed him lightly. "It is important to note, however, that you were fortunate you weren't alone, otherwise it may have been a very different outcome" she continued, face and voice serious.

"So...you don't believe that I'm a danger to myself and others?" you asked hesitantly.

Dr Marchant paused, looking at you steadily with her grey eyes. "Have you had thoughts of self-harm or violence, towards yourself or others?"

"I've maybe wanted to throttle my Mum or Lou, but I've never been one to incite or condone violence. And it's never occurred to me to harm myself as a means of coping"

"Good. My early diagnosis is that you're suffering from acute anxiety, which can be easily managed through regular sessions or medication"

You scrunched up your face. Another pill to take to keep me "normal", you thought morosely. "I'm already on a thyroid medication..."

"Oh, of course! There are options that won't affect your thyroid, but I'm not going to prescribe you anything yet. I think we should schedule some more appointments and go from there"

The anaesthetic had begun to lazily filter through your system, a numbing, tingling sensation that made your eyelids droop heavily.

"Tom" you mumbled as the nurse held the gas mask over your face, the lights above you fading to nothing.

**

You were stiff, limbs heavy and cumbersome. Your tongue felt thick, your throat dry as you swallowed painfully. 

You tried to roll over to find a more comfortable position but froze, grunting as pain seized you. It was worse than you'd expected and you couldn't do anything but wait for it to pass, teeth gritted as you clutched futilely at your stomach.