A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 4
Disclaimer: Never have owned them, never will.
Author's notes: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Okay, I'm in the process of writing Chapter 6 at the moment. Hopefully I will have more time to write in the next few days. I had this chapter ready yesterday with the intention of posting it Friday, but I decided not to be a "cliffhanger queen"—not that there's anything wrong with that! Anyway, enjoy and I hope this tides you over for a few days…
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Beep….beep…beep…beep. Brennan groaned as she opened her eyes to glare at whatever was causing the offending noise. She was confronted with a white tile ceiling, bright lights and the overwhelming smell of antiseptic. She looked down at her body and noticed that her blouse had been unbuttoned and several wires were attached to her chest above the line of her bra.
"Ah Dr. Brennan, good to see you've rejoined the land of the living," said a stout older looking man in a white physician's coat.
"There was time when I wasn't living?" Brennan glanced around the small curtained area.
"No, no…just a figure of speech."
"Well, it's not a good one to use in this setting Dr…" Brennan glanced at his jacket trying to find a name tag.
"Seats. Dr. Seats. So are you feeling better?" He looked over her chart for a moment before glancing back at her.
"Yes, the pain in my chest is gone and my breathing seems normal." Brennan breathed a sigh of relief.
"And did you have any vertigo or dizziness during this episode?" Dr. Seats asked as he pulled out a pen to write on her chart.
"Yes, just before…well, I guess before I passed out," she replied slightly embarrassed.
"Okay, Dr. Brennan we've checked your vitals, ran an EKG and…"
"It was a heart attack, wasn't it?" Brennan flopped her head back against the pillow, waiting for him to confirm the diagnosis.
"No, it was good old classic panic attack," he replied as he scribbled his signature on a prescription pad. "It just felt like a 1000 pounds was sitting on your chest but you're fine, Dr. Brennan. Now, have you been under any undue or abnormal stress as of late?"
Brennan stared at the older man as she began laughing mirthlessly.
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Shortly after 2 am, Brennan stepped into her apartment, letting her bag simply fall to the floor in the entryway as she closed her front door. Her departure from the emergency room had been delayed when Brennan refused the doctor's request for her to call someone to come pick her up. After a brief argument with the stubborn forensic anthropologist, the doctor had thrown his hands in the air indicating defeat. He managed to chide her slightly as she left, pointing out the importance of keeping emergency contact information with her identification.
She tossed the prescription sheet that Dr. Seats had given to her on her desk as she walked past it. Entering her bedroom, Brennan slowly discarded her clothing, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She stepped into the bathroom and turned on her shower allowing the water to reach its hottest temperature. She entered the shower and let the water beat down on her, washing away the sweat and dirt from digging at the grave site earlier.
Once the hot water began to run cold, Brennan stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a towel. Reentering her bedroom, she threw on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt before falling into bed. Exhaustion from her earlier physical exertion and then the panic attack overtook her and she was asleep in minutes.
The shrill ringing of the phone shook Brennan out of a dead slumber at 7 am. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock again to ensure that she had read the time correctly. Yep, 7 am…do you know where your forensic anthropologist is? That was the gist of the first question shouted at her as Brennan picked up the phone.
"Where the hell are you Bones?" Booth didn't attempt to hide his frustration.
Brennan laid back on her bed, placing the phone on her pillow and cradling it to her ear. "Obviously I'm at home, since this is the number you called." She yawned slightly as she continued. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the lab where you said you would be at 7 am and guess what…that's now!" Booth paced around Brennan's office. "Are you still in bed?"
"I overslept. I'll be there in 30 minutes." Brennan hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes. Her conversation with Dr. Seats replayed in her mind.
"Now you can do breathing exercises when this feeling strikes you again, which helps a great many people…" he explained patiently.
"Wait, you think this is going to happen again?"
"The chances are good that yes, this will happen again. Now, I've written out a prescription to help you with any anxiety but it does have a side effect of drowsiness…"
"I don't want it," she said, interrupting again.
"Well, I'm still going to write it out. That doesn't mean you have to have it filled, okay?" Dr. Seats placed the piece of paper on Brennan's lap. "You can get dressed now Dr. Brennan but I warn you…if you don't deal with whatever is causing these attacks, you will continue to have them."
Brennan sighed heavily. She had trekked through Tibet avoiding the Red Army; she had survived three days of captivity in El Salvador; and she had woken bloodied and battered with memory loss in a hotel in New Orleans and not one of those incidents had caused a stupid panic attack or an ounce of anxiety. Okay, maybe an ounce of anxiety, but not enough to render her helpless.
But a double homicide case where the victims were likely a husband and wife who had disappeared and left two kids behind…this was the case that was going to break her.
She pushed herself out of bed and clamored around the room to get dressed. Deciding on a pair of blue jeans, a white button-up blouse and her favorite pair of boots, Brennan dressed and was out the door in record time.
Author's notes: Congrats to all who guessed that it was a panic attack. Anyone who has ever endured one of those knows just how scary they can be. I wouldn't wish one on my worst enemy…okay, well maybe my worst enemy.