I caught a cold over the weekend. I was still pretty sniffly when the phone rang Sunday morning. I almost didn’t answer it.
“Hullo?” Ugh–now I sounded froggy and congested. Not a great combination.
“Wow, you sound like shit,” Jennie said.
“Jennie!” I cried, launching a coughing fit. Between coughs I added, “You bitch!”
This made us both laugh, which only made my coughing worse.
“Listen, we gotta catch up but first, you go get a glass of water or something,” Jennie said. “Take some medicine and call me back.”
I croaked out an “okay” and hung up.
“So how’d you get the plague, Cass? I thought Aurora Skies was supposed to be so pure and healthy.”
“Eh, a guy from town stopped by Saturday. I’m pretty sure that who I got it from. –No, not like that! He’s married. We’re just friends.”
“Hmm. Any other prospects in town? Or are you supposed to be on hiatus from romance? What are you doing there, anyway? I don’t understand why you had to leave Lunar Lakes.”
It was so on-brand for her to come right out and ask the hard questions, the ones I wasn’t sure I had answers to myself, that I couldn’t help laughing a little–even though the answers I did have, I didn’t like and wasn’t sure I should share.
Then again, maybe the best response to Jennie’s terrifying directness was to be direct right back. Maybe I owed her that.
Well, I’d start with the easy one.
“They wanted me to try living by myself for awhile,” I said, “for a couple of reasons. One, because I never have before. It’s always been the orphanage, foster care, or roommates, all my life. So, that’s the one thing that hasn’t been tried in managing my instability.”
“Not gonna lie, Cassidy–I don’t get how leaving you out in the backwoods with only Jana’s goofy relatives around is a super-great treatment plan.”
“Well, that brings me to the second reason,” I said, trying to take as deep a breath as I dared without starting another coughing fit. This was going to be the hard part.
“The other reason is that the doctors were a little concerned about my outburst at you and Rachel. They didn’t think it would be completely safe for me to live with others until they’d had a chance to evaluate how my new regimen was working out.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jenny said scornfully. “You know that outburst was overwhelmingly directed at Rachel, right? And you know I was kind of cheering you on for having it?–I was! I was so sick of cleaning up after her, Cassidy. You and I are Neat Sims–“
Oh, boy.
“So, about that,” I began.
There was an obliging silence on the other end. Now, Jana would already have been peppering me with questions. I could hear her now–“CASS-idee! Al-READy??!” Had I called my doctor, was I taking my medications, could I please go count the pills to double-check that I was taking them–
But one of the reasons I don’t mind Jennie’s bluntness is that she is also an excellent listener.
“Wow,” Jenny said when I was finished.
“I know,” I replied. “It’s kind of frequent, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you’ve been worse.”
“Thanks!”
“Did you want to know what I think or…? I mean, I’m not a doctor. A scientist is at least in the same neighborhood, but you wouldn’t want me in charge of your care. I’m sure if they could talk, the fish I’m tending would be the first to tell you that, too.”
“No, I know,” I agreed, “but you could tell me as a friend.”
“Oh good, because I have opinions.”
I hack-laughed. Jennie without opinions wouldn’t be Jennie at all.
“Let me have ’em,” I said.
“I have some questions first, though. I need more data from you, sorry. I know it’s hard to talk.”
I croaked an acknowledgement of some sort.
“Okay. First of all… first of all, how much do you think your sleep quality has to do with this? Because you seem to do better with good sleep hygiene, and I remember that first bed your place came with–“
“The Backwracker!”
“Yeah, we had to replace that almost first thing, remember?”
“This bed does suck,” I admitted, remembering how I’d felt getting out of it this morning. “Maybe not as bad as The Backwracker did, but it’s close. You really think I should replace it?”
“I know the good ones aren’t cheap, Cass, but yes, I do. I’ll help you out with it if you need me to, but let’s at least eliminate the simplest cause right away.”
“I can handle it, Jennie, but thanks. I am going to blame you for encouraging me, if anyone asks.”
“Go ‘head. I could give a shit. Now, I have another question for you: Have these episodes felt as intense as they usually do? Like, to put it in nerd terms, is there any qualitative change to them?”
I thought for a few moments.
“I’m asking because you mentioned that you think the Flirty one kinda snuck up on you and, well, you don’t usually describe your swaps like that, you know? You’re not usually so ambivalent about whether one’s happened or not.”
“That’s… huh. Yeah, that’s a good point, Jennie. I guess I’d have to say no, they aren’t as intense. That’s good, right?”
“Maybe,” Jennie said. “That leads me to another question: Has the intensity been varying? Increasing, decreasing, or staying the same?”
“About the same, I think. The Flirty episode stands out as having been a little more subtle because it was the first one I’d had since leaving the hospital and, uh… erm, I could think of a good non-crazy reason for it–“
“No kidding.”
“You stop being mean to me, Jennie Garcia!”
We both laughed, and of course I started coughing again. I’m as adapted as I’ll ever be to being mentally unwell, but then to be physically sick on top of it? It felt unfair, like a whole-body betrayal, a systemwide failure.
When I could talk again, I said, “But otherwise, yeah, I’d say they’ve been about the same. I wake up feeling out of sorts, then my prodrome hits, then–then, I don’t know. I guess I haven’t felt so far like I really need to go to the hospital or anything? I wake up the next day and it’s just like ‘Cool, so I’m an Angler now.'”
“I still can’t get over that. It doesn’t even give us more in common, Cassidy! It sucks that you swapped Neat for it.”
“I knowwwww. And I had literally just fired the maid, too.”
“I’ll bet Aurora Skies has some great fishing, though.”
“It really does. You should come check it out sometime!”
“By the time I did,” Jennie pointed out, “you might not be an Angler anymore.”
“You could still go,” I said. Then I hummed a song one of my foster homes used to play a lot.
“What’s that?”
“It’s called ‘My Ever-Changing Moods’.”
“Everyone has mood changes, Cassidy. Instability is a little more–ah, fuck it, I’m not gonna lecture you. You probably get lots of that as it is.”
“All the time, Jennie,” I said tiredly. “All the time.”
“So I’m not going to repeat the warnings and admonitions in all their glory, Cass, but I have to stress that this is not medical advice, I’m definitely not a doctor, and I really think you should check in with your care team soon, to be on the safe side.”
“Disclaimer noted,” I said.
“Okay,” Jennie said, “here’s what I think. Here’s what I think as your friend, who is not a doctor and is not giving you medical advice:
“One, you agree that the episodes are milder than they used to be. That seems to indicate some part of your regimen is working. We don’t know yet how much is due to medications, or lingering effects of your inpatient treatment, or change of scenery, or fresh country air, or exercise–we don’t know exactly why they’re milder, we just know that they are.
“Two, you don’t feel there’s been any negative impact on your quality of life as a result of your cycling (I don’t mean on the bike, ha). You feel okay about the swaps, overall.
“And three, you’ve always had breakthrough episodes.”
“Always,” I agreed. “My whole life, that I can remember.”
“So there’s been no real change there. Finally, you’ve kept your Bookworm trait, which has historically been your most persistent trait, your passion in life if you will, and which allows you to continue earning a living. That’s positive.”
Jennie fell silent.
“So…?” I prompted.
“Cassidy? This is not medical advice and I think you should contact your care team.”
“We’ve been over that!”
“I know, I know. I just wanted to underline it.”
“It’s underlined and bolded.”
“With that said, Cass, it’s my opinion as purely your friend, your dumbass friend who is not a doctor, that… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Huh?”
“It’s an old 20th-century saying. Means what it says–if everything’s working out all right, don’t change anything. Leave it alone.”
My turn to be quiet.
“You still there?”
I realized I’d been holding my breath, a realization that hit me when I started coughing again.
“Sorry,” I croaked, “it’s just that… no one’s ever suggested that to me before. No one, and yet… I’ve thought about doing that my whole life.”
“Hey, no one’s suggesting it now, Cassidy, except perhaps as a thought experiment, ’cause you know scientists love experiments! We’re dicks like that. That doesn’t mean you should run with this one.”
“Jennie, it’s been a week,” I said. “I’ve kind of been running with it. And… I’m still here.”
My Sims 3 Challenges 