Chapter 12 Faye #2
“Starting to.” She sighed, finding it easier to form sentences as the fog started to lift. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Lucy’s response was cut off by Dr Ocean knocking gently on the door before entering.
She was sharply dressed in a pencil skirt and matching lilac shirt that brought out the deep brown tones in her skin and amber eyes.
Faye wondered how the woman could look so flawless working a night shift while she was barefoot and burnt out in mismatched pjs.
She had always tried to keep up appearances, no matter how much she was struggling, but tonight – confronted with the contrast between herself and Dr Ocean – she felt like the illusion she’d created all those years ago had truly shattered.
“I can give you some privacy?” Lucy asked, not daring to leave without asking.
Faye wanted Lucy to stay, but this wasn’t her battle to face, and she didn’t want her friend to hear anything upsetting.
Lucy worried about her enough; Faye’s secrets weren’t her burden to bear.
She was her friend, not a dumping ground for trauma.
“You must be hungry – you should take some time to grab some food,” she told Lucy. “Sorry about dinner.”
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Lucy said, but Faye could see the reluctance in her eyes.
Lucy left them to it, and as nice as Dr Ocean seemed, Faye wasn’t sure where to start. She had kept so many secrets for so long, she was terrified about what might tumble out once she opened up.
“I’m sorry for bothering you so late; I’m sure you have other patients who need you more than I do,” she began, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. She didn’t want Dr Ocean to think she was being overdramatic.
“You’re never bothering me or the staff,” Dr Ocean said firmly.
“It’s easy to forget that many people who come to Foxford are seeking sanctuary from their past or present.
We all have our struggles, and we all need help at one time or another.
It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Night and day, we’re here to help.
There’s never any reason to feel sorry or ashamed.
” She pulled over a stool to sit and smiled, tucking one of her braids behind her ear. “Let’s start small.”
Taking a deep breath, Faye nodded. Dr Ocean’s ears were pointed; Faye guessed she was a fairie. Given their ability to feel and manipulate others’ emotions, psychology was a fitting profession.
“The nurse informed me that you’ve been suffering from panic attacks recently,” Dr Ocean said gently. “Could you tell me when you first felt the symptoms?”
Faye took a deep breath and decided to trust her.
“I left my partner recently,” she said. “We were together for ten years. He was abusive for eight of them. Since leaving, I’ve never felt better. But every now and then, as if out of nowhere, I get hit with these blinding panic attacks. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”
She waited for Dr Ocean to ask why she hadn’t left sooner, or what she meant by ‘abusive’, as if there was any form of abuse that was justifiable.
“You didn’t suffer from panic attacks while you were together?” Dr Ocean asked, without a hint of judgement or pity.
“No. I was terrified most of the time, but because he could hear my heartbeat, he could tell when I was lying or feeling anxious or stressed. I got really good at controlling and shielding my emotions,” Faye explained, wondering what Dr Ocean was jotting down on her notepad.
“It sounds like you and your body adapted to help you survive. All that trauma and emotion has built up, and now that you’re removed from the situation, your body, your nervous system, is trying to rewire itself to adapt to your new life.
Your mind is trying to process all you’ve been through mentally and physically.
As your conscious mind is trying to adapt, so is your subconscious mind, which will take time and patience,” she explained calmly.
“What is it? Like PTSD?” Faye had heard some stuff about it online from some domestic violence forums.
“Let’s not try and put labels on it for now; we can work on that later. What’s important is finding tools to help make the transition easier,” Dr Ocean said.
“I tried taking calming elixir and tea from Grams Hawthorne, which was helping, but it doesn’t touch the panic attacks,” Faye said, wanting to show she was open to help.
“Natural remedies can work wonders, but given what you’ve been through, your body might need an extra helping hand,” Dr Ocean said.
“I would like you to come into the clinic for weekly sessions with me, if you feel up to it. Talking therapy can help you process, but if you aren’t ready yet, I can prescribe you some medication to help with chronic anxiety to give your nervous system a break.
It could help break the cycle. It can take some time to figure out what works best, but you aren’t alone.
I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“I thought living in that hell was the worst I could possibly feel. Now it feels like my own body is attacking me,” Faye confessed.
“It can be frightening to feel like you’ve no control over your body, but one way to look at it is that your body is doing what it thinks it has to protect you.
During a traumatic event, we release adrenaline to run faster, feel less pain, and heighten our senses.
Sometimes it’s not until the storm is over that our body starts to reveal our wounds. ”
“I was really hoping the storm was over.” Faye smiled sadly, realising she had a long road ahead of her.
“I’m happy to try medication, therapy – anything to stop the attacks.
I feel like I’m dying every time.” At least when Ian fed on her, she knew it would end; the panic attacks felt never-ending, leaving her so exhausted the next day that she found it hard to do anything.
The admission made her realise how badly she needed help.
“Don’t worry. Asking for help is the hardest part, and you’ve overcome that.
We’ll get you started on a low dose and see how you get on, and when you’re ready, you can schedule an appointment with me through the front desk,” Dr Ocean said, writing out an illegible prescription.
“I’ll have the pharmacy fill it for you when you’re discharged. ”
“Can I go home tonight?” Faye asked. The sedative had made her sleepy; all she wanted was her bed.
“With the medication we’ve given you, I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving you to your own devices,” Dr Ocean said cautiously, and Faye didn’t have the energy to argue.
“I can stay with her,” Lucy said suddenly, appearing at the door. “I wasn’t eavesdropping – I was just coming to bring up some sweet tea. The nurse said it might help.”
“That’s fine; we were just finishing up,” Dr Ocean said.
“Thank you for your help,” Faye said as Lucy handed her the warm cup. She hadn’t realised how cold she was until she held the cup. Then again, she had spent the guts of an hour in a freezing cold shower; it was a miracle she hadn’t ended up with hypothermia.
“You can take her home, and I’d like you to stay with her for the night, just in case. The sedative is strong, and we don’t want you falling,” Dr Ocean warned.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Lucy promised eagerly.
“I’ll have the nurse bring you your prescription and discharge papers.”
“Thank you,” Faye said again, grateful to have found someone willing to listen instead of judging.
“I’m happy to help. Please call if you need anything, or if we need to adjust the dose.
Plenty of rest, and surround yourself with those who make you feel safe,” Dr Ocean said kindly.
“Lucinda will need to watch you for the next twelve hours while you sleep off the sedative. If anything happens or you have any concerns, call the clinic.” She directed the last part to Lucy.
“I won’t let her out of my sight,” Lucy said, taking her friend’s hand. “She can’t get rid of me even if she tries.”
Faye wanted to cry, grateful to her for not giving up on her, for not letting her suffer in silence when all she’d wanted to do was crawl into a hole of shame. She had been able to hide the bites and the bruises; she couldn’t hide from her own body and mind.