Someone calls my name, a nurse in the doorway. I have three questions left in this stupid packet. Before I can finish them, Mom takes the clipboard from me, and we file through the door and gather in front of a scale.
"Okay, Kaden." The nurse motions to the scale. I step up, and she pulls out a bar to measure my height. "Five, eleven."
"Still an inch shorter than me," Logan gloats.
Tons of comebacks flash through my head, but they all make me think about basketball, so I don't say anything.
The nurse arranges the scale so that it balances at 127 pounds, and she writes it down. Mom leans forward and grimaces at my weight.
"Okay, follow me please," the nurse says. She leads the way down the hall to a room. I stumble in the doorway, but manage to catch myself. Logan grabs my arm. I roll my eyes at him and pull away. Thick carpet. I guess I caught my foot on it. An Epilepsy Center that is seizure safe, imagine that.
The nurse motions to the checkup table. Just the thought of sitting up there makes me hesitate. God, I'm pathetic! It's just a checkup table.
Logan takes a seat-there are three chairs. Good. I'm going to sit in a chair when the nurse leaves. The nurse takes the forms from Mom and studies the information. Mom sits down next to Logan, in the far right chair. Finally, I take a seat on the edge of the checkup table, letting my legs sway back and forth, thumping against the side of the table.
"Have you been feeling well lately?" the nurse asks as she wraps the blood pressure thing around my arm and pumps it up.
Well? I've felt like crap since the seizures started.
"He had a cold last week, but he's well now," Mom says.
". . . Your blood pressure is rather high," the nurse says. She makes a note on her clipboard and pulls the blood pressure thing off my arm with the loud ripping noise of Velcro. Then she ties one of those weird rubber things on my arm, really tightly. "Are you allergic to any medications?"
"He's severely allergic to Depakote," Mom says.
The nurse makes a note. "Are you taking any other medications besides Klonopin?"
I shake my head.
"Yes you are, Kaden," Mom says. "He also uses Proventil." She thinks I forgot about my asthma. I'm not an idiot. I just figured the nurse was asking about other AED's.
"Are you sure the daily amount of Klonopin is nine milligrams?" the nurse asks.
"Yes. He takes a one milligram pill and a two milligram pill three times a day."
The nurse nods, a deep frown on her face. "That is a rather high amount. Have you experienced any side effects? Dizziness? Sleepiness? Memory problems? Anything like that?"
I roll my eyes. "No, nothing like that."
The nurse raises her eyebrows, offended by the sarcasm. Maybe I laid it on too thick.
Mom tisks at me. "He hasn't been eating well. He's lost at least ten pounds in the last sixth months. He's always tired, and he gets agitated easily. Is there anything you could give him for the side effects?"
The nurse frowns. "We don't normally prescribe medications for side effects. If the side effects are bothersome, you should talk to Dr. Evans about reducing the Klonopin."
What? How will that help anything?! I grind my teeth and glare at the floor.
"Wait," Logan says. He glances at me. "The pills don't even work anymore. Shouldn't he just get something new?"
YOU ARE READING
In My Head
Teen FictionTeenage baller Kaden Hastings has a fit when his family moves to California. He can handle the new medical diagnosis that slowly eats away at his life, but when his parents separate him from his teammates and girlfriend to move him to California to...
