He looks down with a confused look plastered onto his scarred, unshaven face. He isn’t quite sure what to make of Dr. Edwards’ line of questioning. What exactly is the correlation between taking all this medication he’s been prescribed over the past several months and this sudden memory loss? To say that Arthur Pleasant is concerned would be a gross understatement.

But is there cause for it?

Dr. Edwards bounces the lower half of her crossed leg before asking the inevitable.

“Arthur, I want to go over all the medications you’re on.”

“Why?” he shoots back.

“Just… taking inventory of everything. You’re on a lot of heavy-duty meds. Daily-divided three-hundred milligram doses of Clozapine is a serious regimen of psych-meds if I’m being perfectly honest.” she says, hitting Arthur somewhat stiffly with the truth.

Before Arthur can respond, Dr. Edwards adds, “Maybe see if anything needs to be adjusted. This is normal, so don’t worry.”

Arthur says nothing. His thoughts, however, are running with reckless abandon.

Fuck!!
Why is she jerking me around?!

“That one in particular can cause somnolence. You’re on the highest dosage, too, at 180 micrograms. There’s also a real risk of tachyphylaxis.” 

Arthur chuckles, finally speaking up.

“Pardon me, Doc, but I got my PhD from a vending machine. Layman’s terms, maybe?” 

“My apologies, Arthur. Somnolence is extreme sleepiness. Do you feel like you are always tired?”

“Like barely being able to stay awake during my Uber ride to this appointment? That’s a big green check. And what about that tack-a… tacka-fuh–”

—“Tachyphylaxis, you mean?”

“Yeah. That one. Do I even wanna know what that’s all about?” 

Dr. Edwards leans forward, removes the notepad from her knee, and crosses her other leg.

“Well, that basically means there’s a sudden dip in the efficacy of a drug after being administered for a specific length of time. It can occur after an initial dose or, more likely, after a series of small doses. In your case, Arthur, it’s happening pretty early on as you’ve only been on this particular drug for a few months and immediately started on a pretty high dosage, and now you’re on the biggest dose available.”

“So what you’re saying is my body, err mind in this case, is getting too used to what I’ve been giving it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say—“

Her words trail off in the distance as the next few hours vanish in the labyrinth of Arthur’s mind.

MEMORY LAPSE 002

Pills litter the cracked tiling of the bathroom floor as Arthur Pleasant sits in a tub filled with water that’s turned a light shade of red. With several open bottles of Dos Equis lining the bathtub, Pleasant sits up; the back of his stringy, raven-esque hair has turned into more of a currant color from the impurity of the bathwater. In a great panic, Pleasant shakes his head, sending the dirty water in every direction.

“What the f-“ he says, stopping himself once he realizes the searing pain that emanates from his right wrist.

Lifting his arm, he sees a trail of blood oozing down from underneath a shoddily wrapped chunk of white gauze. 

Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
What is happening to me?!

Pleasant’s eyes scan the empty bottles of beer until they come upon a lone bottle, smashed and reduced to sharp, jagged edges. A thin strand of ripped skin hangs off one of the many pointy “teeth'' from the bottle. This visceral image causes pain in his forearm.

I didn’t...
… did I?

Taking his unscathed arm, Arthur swipes all the bottles off of the side of the tub in a fit of rage, yelling at the top of his lungs while they all clink and smash to the bathroom floor.

He tries, with all his might, to piece together what exactly happened from when he was at his appointment with Dr. Edwards, but it’s to no avail.

After carefully stepping out of the bathtub to not cut his feet on the broken bottles, Pleasant raids his medicine cabinet. Holding the Clozapine and Fluoxetine in his right hand, he holds three others in his left: Paliperidone, Sertraline, and some good ole Xannies that he once obtained without a prescription from someone who shall remain anonymous (for now).

Opening them all up at once, he looks down into the toilet bowl.

It’s time.

He tilts his hands forward, rattling the pills inside each bottle.

Do it.

The pills teeter on the edges of their plastic, little cylinders.

FUCKING DO IT!

Arthur’s hands shake and a bead of sweat slowly drips down from his brow.

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