Sunday, August 9th, 2015
“Honey, you have to take your meds.” Remus insisted. “And where are your glasses and brace?”
“I don’t even feel anxious or depressed or anything.” Severus deflected.
“Your meds aren’t for when you feel that way, they’re to stop you from feeling that way. If you were on antibiotics you wouldn’t take them when you felt sick, you would take them every six hours, or eight hours, or twelve, or whatever. This is the same thing.”
“Except you only take antibiotics for like a week and not the rest of your life.”
“You would if you had an infection for the rest of your life.”
“No, because if you take antibiotics too long or often you’ll die because your stomach won’t have any bacteria in it and you’ll probably get C. diff. Besides, your body gets used to the antibiotics pretty quickly and so they stop working.”
“Isn’t C. diff a type of bacteria?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It is not.”
“You’re seven to ten times more likely to get C. diff while on or right after getting off antibiotics.”
“Okay, but you’re not on antibiotics.” Remus reminded. “The only prescription meds you have for physical stuff are allergy and pain related.”
“It’s the principle.”
“You never answered me.”
“Answered you?”
“Where are your glasses and brace?”
Severus looked away. “In the bedroom.”
“You’re supposed to put them on as soon as you wake up.”
“I know.”
“So, why don’t you?”
“I don’t want to. I don’t like them.”
“You prefer not being able to see, struggling to walk, and being in pain?”
It wasn’t a real question, but Severus answered anyway, trying to suppress the anger and desolation and tears that came when he thought about the medical devices or anything related to them. “Yes! I told you that when I started PT, but you didn’t listen! I don’t want this!”
“Why in the world would you prefer pain, near immobility, flashbacks, bad vision, and more over some pills, a brace, and glasses?”
“Glasses, leg brace, medicine…why isn’t my body good enough the way it is?” Tears poured down Severus’s face as he finally realized what had been making him so uncomfortable since this all began. Since he began getting certain accommodations and medical devices.
“Your body is good enough.” Remus sat in a kitchen chair next to him, gently sitting hand on his knee. “Why do you think otherwise?”
“Everyone is trying to change it! I’m anxious: I’m given a pill to stop, I’m depressed: I’m given a pill to stop, I have flashbacks: I’m given a pill to stop, I get migraines: I’m given a pill to stop, I see the world blurrily: I’m given some plastic and glass to stop, my leg is weak and doesn’t work right: I’m given some metal and whatever to stop. It’s like no matter what my brain and body do, it’s not good enough for anyone!”
“Those things are hurting you.”
“They are me.”
“No—”
“Yes, Remus, yes! I’m not some separate entity from my brain or body; we’re the same thing. I am my pain, my anxiety, my allergies….You’re not removing obstacles that are keeping me from living this stereotypical, great, happy life—you’re removing me….I’m nothing without them.”
“But, you are something without them.”
“I’m not. Everyone always talks about overcoming disorders and physical disabilities to go back to your life before them, but I can’t. Not because I won’t try or because I’ve changed too much, but because I don’t have a life before all this. I’ve always been like this.”
“I don’t expect you to go back to anything or change, I just want you to be happy.”
“Remus, I’ve been anxious my whole life, anorexic since I was three, paranoid since I was two, depressed since I was five, suicidal since I was six, insomniatic since I was four….My point is: my body, brain, whatever isn’t meant to be happy. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
“You’re happy sometimes.”
“Sure, sometimes, but that’s all I’m meant to have.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know; it’s just always been that way.” He wiped the tears from his face, willing more to not appear. He was doing everything in his power to not just collapse to the floor and sob as he did when alone in the bedroom.
“Doesn’t mean it has to be now….I’ve been a werewolf since I was four, does that mean that I shouldn’t take wolfsbane to make the experience slightly more bearable to myself?”
“Wolfsbane wasn’t invented to make werewolves more comfortable, it was invented to make non-werewolves less scared for their lives and to give you all less of a reason to complain, or at least them a reason to shut down your complaints or calls of discrimination. Anyway, wolfsbane or not, you’re still a werewolf.”
“Glasses or not you’re still partially blind.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because with glasses I can see.”
“With wolfsbane I can think and sleep and not murder people.” Remus argued. “There’s nothing wrong with your body, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use stuff to make living in it easier.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You have to take your meds,” Remus continued when Severus groaned. “but if you really don’t want to wear your glasses and brace today then you don’t have to.”
“Really?!” He nearly stood in excitement, but satisfied himself with just flapping his hands.
“I don’t want you to have a negative relationship with things that are supposed to be helping you, so, yeah. It’s not like you can do it constantly, but if you want to take a break from them today, I won't disagree or nag or anything.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No intense movement or anything that’s dangerous with limited vision, and you have to tell me if you feel sick or unbearable pain.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup.”
“Fine…I’m guessing I’m not allowed to do potions?”
“If you even go near that lab I am strapping you to the bed for the rest of that day, and not in a kinky way.” Remus light-heartedly threatened, handing over the small cup of pills and an identical one of water.
“Got it.” Severus handed the cups back, coughing a little. “Will you at least take a break from writing your book today too?”
“Of course….Do you want to finally watch Inside Out?”
“Yes!” He actually jumped up to a standing position this time and grabbed Remus’s hand, beginning to drag him to the living room. “Hurry up!”
Laughing, Remus replied. “Okay.”