Disclaimer: I do not own House or anything affiliated with it. It is owned by FOX, et al. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made.
Author's Note: I have absolutely no medical knowledge. I just chose
the number of pills because they sounded good. I wasn't aiming for medical
accuracy, so telling me I'm wrong is rather moot. Otherwise, enjoy!
Dedication: Merry Christmas, KB!
Summary: His day is measured in pills.
Measure
...1...2...3...4...
by: chopsticks
g
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one.
-----
The day begins with one in the morning. The alarm buzzes in an irritating fashion and his hand will reach out from beneath the covers, groping around the nightstand. He does not search for the alarm or the button to quiet its shrill noises. Instead, he searches for the bottle.
He will swear semi-quietly after being unable to find it for thirty seconds and will finally look over and see it sitting placidly next to the lamp, far away from the alarm that he does not hear. His senses are too overwhelmed by
pain
and the insistent need for
pills.
He will fumble with the cap, cussing more loudly as the child proofing prevents him from opening up the bottle and getting to the
pills.
The cap will pop off and he will eagerly shake four pills into his hand, which is more than what he
needs,
but he has accepted that he is addicted to the
pills.
The sound of the alarm will break through as the pain fades away into oblivion, leaving only happy numbness and the awareness that the alarm is really loud.
He will flip off the alarm, reach for his cane and crawl out of bed. His day will begin.
-----
two.
-----
He will arrive at work and be overwhelmed by the scent of sterility. He relishes it. It reminds him of cleanliness and a life without pain.
He will already feel it growing, the insistent need for the pills that are burning a hole in his suit coat pocket. The pills that one day he knows will consume his life.
He will grimace with the first step and will know that, when he reaches his office, he will be unable to see from the blinding pain.
He will fumble in his pocket for the
pills
and he will find them readily enough. In his more coherent state, he will be able to easily remove the cap and two pills will fall easily into his waiting palm.
He will stare at them contemplatively, wondering when he became nothing more than a clichd drug-addicted physician. Then he will remember the day she left, the house empty and hollow without her there.
He will toss the two pills into his mouth and he will swallow them without water. He doesn't need it anymore.
He's practiced at this.
-----
three.
-----
The third time he will reach into his pocket will be in the afternoon--it has been a stress-free and therefore motion-free day for him--while suffering through another hour of clinic duty.
The patient will be concerned that he is about to have a heart attack and is therefore dying. He will resist rolling his eyes and instead will pull out the pill bottle and shake it lightly.
"You have acid reflux. Stop eating spicy foods and you'll be perfectly fine."
"I-I'm not dying?"
"No, you're not dying."
But I am, he will think to himself as he pops the cap off and drops three pills into his hand. He will toss them into his mouth and swallow, not even noticing the patient's worried stares.
I am dying pill by pill, he will think as he exits the room. It's better than by pain.
He will not admit that the pain he fears so much is the emotional scarring left on his heart and not the physical scarring left on his leg.
-----
four.
-----
His day will be over and he will be back at home. He will be sitting there, scotch in hand as he contemplates nothing and everything.
His eyes will fall on the piano and he will remember the days, even before her, when he would play that instrument daily, relishing in the power he had over beautiful sound.
He will reach for the pills on the end table and let four into his palm. Four will be enough to get through the night.
He will chase them with scotch, his medical training telling him that it is a bad idea, but past experience telling him it has had no ill effects before, so it's perfectly safe now.
He will stand slowly, favoring the uninjured leg and reaching for his cane. He will make ready for bed, slightly proud of the fact that it has been a good day today--he only needed to take the pills four times.
His life is measured in pills, and today he has done well.
-----
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.