He could have died.
For a moment, Lochlann didn't know if he was talking about the morphine tablets he'd taken or what the doctor had done to him. He clutched the vase a little tighter while he thought about it.
He knew something was wrong with him. Lochlann had been having black-outs, where he would fall asleep on the futon and wake up in his bed or on the floor of his shower with no memory of getting there. This scared him because, for the most part, Lochlann couldn't sleep. He'd taken the morphine pills not to sleep, but to deal with the blinding pain from the rainstorms.
And something had started to go wrong. Which was a problem for Lochlann, because he technically weighed over 800lbs, so he should be able to take a lot of those pills without having any problems. The only way he'd have had problems was if he...already had them in his system.
Lochlann hadn't taken any before that. He felt a cold wave come over him.
he was starting to think someone was trying to kill him.
And it never crossed his mind that the doctor literally just confessed to trying to kill him.
"I'm okay with almost dying," he said. His voice was quiet and determined. "If that's the only reason you're not willing to do it again, I could sign a consent form or whatever, say that I accept the risks."
But the doctor was talking about his insomnia and he almost, almost succeeded in derailing him.
"I don't know why i can't sleep," he said. "Doctor, I'm...I'm running a lot now. I'm doing everything I can to make myself tired, and I'm still having a hard time sleeping. I don't know what else to do."
He swallowed.
"What you did was the first thing that's worked. Is there...is there anything I could do that would make it work again?" Lochlann asked.
It was hard to keep the desperation out of his voice.
For a moment, Lochlann didn't know if he was talking about the morphine tablets he'd taken or what the doctor had done to him. He clutched the vase a little tighter while he thought about it.
He knew something was wrong with him. Lochlann had been having black-outs, where he would fall asleep on the futon and wake up in his bed or on the floor of his shower with no memory of getting there. This scared him because, for the most part, Lochlann couldn't sleep. He'd taken the morphine pills not to sleep, but to deal with the blinding pain from the rainstorms.
And something had started to go wrong. Which was a problem for Lochlann, because he technically weighed over 800lbs, so he should be able to take a lot of those pills without having any problems. The only way he'd have had problems was if he...already had them in his system.
Lochlann hadn't taken any before that. He felt a cold wave come over him.
he was starting to think someone was trying to kill him.
And it never crossed his mind that the doctor literally just confessed to trying to kill him.
"I'm okay with almost dying," he said. His voice was quiet and determined. "If that's the only reason you're not willing to do it again, I could sign a consent form or whatever, say that I accept the risks."
But the doctor was talking about his insomnia and he almost, almost succeeded in derailing him.
"I don't know why i can't sleep," he said. "Doctor, I'm...I'm running a lot now. I'm doing everything I can to make myself tired, and I'm still having a hard time sleeping. I don't know what else to do."
He swallowed.
"What you did was the first thing that's worked. Is there...is there anything I could do that would make it work again?" Lochlann asked.
It was hard to keep the desperation out of his voice.