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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Other · #1901483
Phoenix is off his trazodone and his aripiprazole, and he is wide awake at 0300hrs...
Phoenix finally just got out of bed.  He was tired of rolling around trying to go to sleep and having nightmares.  He was positive that his spouse was not getting any sleep either with all of his antics on his side of the bed.  Phoenix felt like setting up the cot in the living room.  Maybe that would be better.  He generally slept better on a cot - had ever since the Middle East.  It amazed Phoenix how many years later he was suffering from all of this.  PTSD was a lifelong endeavor, and not a fun one.  The ECT treatments were helping his depression, but the PTSD was still raging strong within him.  It was Friday morning.  0300hrs.  His doctor was neither awake, nor at work.  Phoenix hoped that was the case, at least.  He hoped that his doctor slept better than he did.  His doctor also had PTSD, but from many more years ago.  From Viet Nam.  His doctor was a Captain in the Army.  Phoenix should have been an officer, he had often thought, but his doctor warned him to comfort him that it might have been worse if he had been, especially in his MOS.  Specialist was a high enough rank to teach Phoenix that he was not a strong supporter of killing with a machine gun or being killed or captured by the enemy.  And the problem was, of course, who was the enemy?  His doctor understood that.  Phoenix wished he could talk to his doctor right then, but he knew that he would have to wait until Monday.  He was supposed to meet his case manager later that morning (in six hours).  Maybe that would help.  If not, Phoenix would have to consider going to the mental health clinic and seeing one of the other doctors on emergency, possibly putting him in the psych ward.  It had been a year since Phoenix had been in the psych ward, and he wanted to make it longer.  He understood that it was safety first, though.  He had made a promise to the Captain that he would not hurt himself, no matter what.  Phoenix just needed to talk to him.  It was going to be a rough weekend.

There were several reasons it would be a rough weekend.  One was his current state of sleep and his state of mind.  Another was that one of his best friends was leaving for Dallas - moving there to live with a married couple that she got sexually involved with during a 10-day trip down there a month and a half ago - and not coming back.  It was a BDSM relationship.  Phoenix was worried about her, but it was her decision.  She was going to try to get into graduate school down there, ultimately.  Phoenix was sure that the woman involved had Borderline Personality Disorder.  In this particular relationship, his friend was subservient to the man, and the woman was subservient to her, and they wore collars as signs of this domination hierarchy.  So they formed a threesome and that was the way life was going to be for his friend.  She swore it was voluntary.  As long as she was a permanent part of this threesome hierarchy, she would not have to pay rent.  What if it did not work out, though?  That was Phoenix's worry.  It was a big city and people disappeared all the time without a trace in big cities.  Another reason that Phoenix's weekend would be rough was that he had a huge neuropharmacology test to study for.  The professor had put it off three times, which had its pros and cons.  Phoenix was coming off of medications, going through ECT treatments, not sleeping, and worrying about everything.  Oh, well.  Nothing new, he thought.  Phoenix also had to get in shape.  He had to.  He was tired of being overweight and obese.  He weighed 100.6kg.  This was his opportunity to lose weight, while he was getting off of these medications.  He did not feel as hungry and he had more energy.  He also had more psychological issues, but it would have to be one or the other.  They were trying to fight off the psychological issues with the ECT, which would be every two weeks.  The authorization was written and approved for a year of that, so hopefully everything would work out.  Phoenix had to get his medical school application in, too, along with his letters of recommendation and everything else.  Guadalajara.  It sounded like a nice place.  His doctor had told him it was a big city - several million - in the mountains, and beautiful.  Phoenix had all the permission and encouragement in the world from his doctor to go for this opportunity.  Phoenix would do his best.  But what if...no.  He would not think of the what-ifs.  He was going to medical school.  Period.
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