“Have you lost weight recently?”
“A bit.” Maybe more than a bit.
“You work long hours, I’m guessing. Do you ever take time off? When was your last vacation?”
“Um, well, it’s right now.”
“Oh, I was given to understand you were here for work,” he said.
“That’s what I told Ed,” she admitted. “But I, uh, my boss wanted me to take some time off. I . . . “ she sucked in a breath, “I had an issue at work.”
“An issue?”
“Panic attack,” she admitted. “I passed out.”
He let out a breath. “Right.” He asked half a dozen other questions about her sleeping habits, her thoughts about work, her emotional health. They were tough to answer. She wasn’t used to speaking about these things with anyone.
“Sweetheart, sounds to me like you’re really stressed and suffering from anxiety.”
So she was weak. Because there were lots of people in far more stressful jobs than her and they did fine. “I’ll be all right.”
“You will be, if you take care of yourself,” he told her sternly.
“That’s what this week is about.”
“Hate to tell you, but I don’t think a week is going to be long enough. You talk to your doctor about any of this?”
“I thought a week away might fix everything.”
“Sweetheart, your stress is affecting your health. Things are getting to a critical stage. I think you’d benefit from talking to someone.”
“No,” she said firmly. She rubbed her tummy unconsciously, then noticed Xavier watching. She froze. Shoo
t.
“All right. I know I’m not your doctor, but I really would advise you to make some changes. Maybe see if you can get some more time off.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to be a problem. Convincing her boss to let her go back to work would be the real issue. She kept telling herself she was just taking a week off. But she knew better.
“Exercise is good, but not to the point of being excessive. There are medications you can use to help with the panic attacks, a therapist would—”
“No medication.” She couldn’t afford to have her senses dulled.
“A sedative to help you sleep?”
“No. No medicine.” She’d be too vulnerable.
He sighed. “Why don’t I prescribe some and then you have it in case you need it? Something light.”
What if she took them and got stuck in a nightmare? Or worse, someone tried to hurt her while she was out?
“Do you often get a sore stomach?”
Shoot. She was still rubbing it. “Sometimes.”
“Does it hurt to eat?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”