Where Nerves End

six-fifteen.
Maybe I was desperate, maybe I was as gullible as the next person, but in spite of my skepticism, two words on that lengthy list drew me through the door:
Chronic pain.
The clinic smelled oddly…herbal. Something pungent, vaguely familiar, and slightly burned. Just strong enough I couldnt ignore it, not powerful enough to be nauseating. And I could have been mistaken, but I swore I smelled one particular herb that I was pretty sure wasnt legal without a government-issued license and a compelling reason.
The waiting area itself wasnt all that different from what Id expectin a doctors office, though it somehow lacked the sparse, sterile appearance. Framed prints of tranquil landscapes lined the dark green-painted wall between two mahogany bookcases. Beneath a small table, a plastic milk crate tucked beneath the table held brightly colored plastic toys, and a few well-worn magazines leaned on each other inside a metal magazine rack. Between a Buddha statue and a fan of books on Chinese medicine was a trickling fountain in a clay bowl. Water ran over pebbles and fake jade, and a tree that resembled a Bonsai tree stood on top.
“You must be Mr. Davis,” a voice sing-songed, and I turned my head.
He was a cute kid, probably a college student. Square-rimmed hipster glasses, stylishly messed up hair with highlighted tips, and just a little flamboyant. I wondered if he was part of the reason Seth came over here on a regular basis. This kid was a hundred percent his type, right down to the tan that did not happen naturally in Colorado this time of year.
“Yes,” I said. “Im Jason Davis.”
He smiled. “Right on time. Dr. Whitman just needs you to fill this out as best you can,” he said, handing me a pen and clipboard. “And just be blunt and honest, because…” He waved a hand and sighed dramatically. “Hell get the answer out of you one way or another, so you might as well not try to hide anything.”
I laughed. “Is that right?”
“Trust me.” The kid had a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Hes one of those people; you might as well just tell him what he wants to know. Hes kind of like the CIA, minus the car batteries and waterboarding.”
“Good to know.”
I took the form and clipboard to the waiting area, and sat beside the table with the books and fountain.
The form was about what Id expect from anyone else. The usual crap about injuries and ailments. And of course, Are you currently taking any medications, including over the counter?
I chewed the inside of my cheek, tapping the pen on the form. Id heard holistic practitioners frowned on modern medicine. Something about poisonous chemicals and evil pharmaceutical companies or some crap like that. Whatever. The last thing I needed to hear was a lecture about why I shouldnt be taking the pills that sometimes meant the difference between one hour of sleep and three.
He’s one of those people; you might as well just tell him what he wants to know , the receptionists voice echoed in my head. He’s kind of like the CIA, minus the car batteries and waterboarding .
I sighed and wrote “OTC anti-inflammatories + doctorprescribed Percocet for pain.” The man would probably have heart failure when he found out I was sucking down pain pills instead of meditating or drinking purified water blessed by a unicorn. Oh well.
After Id filled everything out, I handed the form back to the receptionist, then returned to my seat. While I waited to be called back, I fixed my gaze on the trickling fountain. The fact that I was here at all bugged the hell out of me. There was a heavy sense of hopelessness in the realization that everything had come down to this. That I was desperate enough to try anything that had the slightest promise—mythical or otherwise—of relieving my pain.
What if it didnt help? What if nothing did? After five years, I was at my wits end, but what would happen in ten, twenty, fifty years if I couldnt find some sort of long-term—even short-term— relief?
“Jason?” The receptionists voice brought me out of my thoughts. He raised his chin so he could see over the high desk. “Dr. Whitmans still with another patient, but he should be out in a few minutes.”
I forced a smile. “No problem.”
My stomach fluttered with nerves. As if I didnt have enough to think about, it occurred to me that I hadnt asked Seth about this guy. Theyd been good friends for a long time, which said a lot since Seth didnt trust anyone any farther than