Tracy squinted, momentarily blinded by the harsh brightness of her surroundings. The clouds which had been blocking the sun until then had drifted away, and the late-afternoon sun reflecting on the white roof of the office building forced her to pause for a moment while her eyes adjusted. The contrast between the dimly lit stairwell behind her and the expanse of the practically glowing roof surface was unsettling.
Her current course of action could jeopardize her reputation, relationships, career and possibly get her arrested, but strictly speaking, her behavior wasn't life-threatening. Even so, when she briefly shut her eyes against the glare a few recent memorable events from her life flashed through her mind, making her wonder, "This is so not me, how did I get to where this is even possible?"
Tracy had enjoyed a good but unexceptional life until a couple of years earlier. Her Mom and Dad gave her a stable, loving household to grow up in. There were the usual conflicts between her teenage self and her parents, who were way stricter than those of her friends about how she could dress, when she could begin dating, how late she could stay out, but she never rebelled or defied their rules.
As she looked back on it, she wondered if wanting to get away from her strict upbringing might have been why she married her first serious boyfriend. Kyle wasn't anyone's idea of a wild guy, but he wasn't as strait-laced as her folks, and she had never regretted getting married barely out of her teens. She was amazed at the stories her friends who had gone away to college told her about their casual hookups and spring break shenanigans, but couldn't imagine behaving that way herself.
Tracy's life began to change in her mid-twenties, so subtly at first that she convinced herself that the earliest symptoms of the neurological illness she would eventually be diagnosed with were caused by the stress of having to take care of a newborn daughter, Emily, as well as her first child, a lively two-year-old boy named Kevin.
Tracy loved both children and Kyle helped with them as much as he could, but since he worked long hours she was on her own much of the time. Getting too little sleep and eating poorly, she began to notice a tremor in her right hand. The tremor was intermittent and not severe, so she shrugged it off as simply a sign she needed more rest and soldiered on.
When Emily began to give up nursing in favor of eating solid food at nine months old, Tracy was thankful to be able to sleep for longer stretches, and also that Kyle could take over some of the feeding duty. She also felt a bit guilty, even though she knew she had no reason to. At Emily's one-year-old checkup, her pediatrician was perceptive enough to see Tracy was still struggling a bit, and noticed her tremor, which hadn't become any more intense but had begun affecting both hands. "I know Emily is my patient, not you, but I think you should get checked out to see what's causing the tremor you're experiencing," the Doctor recommended.
"This," Tracy asked, holding up her hands, "I had something like this for a little while after Kevin was born. It went away after his first birthday."
"It may be nothing, but you should see your doctor to be sure," the pediatrician told Tracy before saying goodbye.
When Emily was almost two years old, Tracy was ready to place her in a daycare center and Kevin into the preschool program at the school where he'd be starting Kindergarten in a few months. She was looking forward to being able to go back to work. There was a problem -- her tremors had become both more frequent and more noticeable.
She could no longer convince herself that nothing was wrong, and was worried that she wouldn't be very effective at the clerical and secretarial work she had done before Kevin was born. The way her hands often shook, she couldn't imagine even getting past a first interview. She had her general practitioner refer her to a neurologist to get to the bottom of what was causing her tremors, and hopefully find a solution.
Her first-ever appointment with a neurologist was both unsettling and reassuring for Tracy. She was stunned to hear that she did indeed have a disorder causing her tremors, one which couldn't actually be cured, but was encouraged to hear that any progression would likely be very slow, and was usually treatable with a prescription. "This isn't something which can kill you, but it will always be with you at some level. "You'll need to come in every six months to verify the medicine is doing what it should, and not doing anything it shouldn't. If it isn't working, or is causing troublesome side effects, we'll adjust your dosage as needed," he assured her.
"How much is this going to shorten my life?" Tracy asked; she was beginning to tear up, thinking of her children.
"It really isn't the kind of disease which kills people directly," the doctor said, "but if not treated, the worsening tremors can definitely affect your quality of life, and could make it more likely for you to die some other way, such as a car accident, a severe fall, or choking on food. The good news is that for most people, getting on the correct course of medicine will entirely prevent that sort of outcome."
Tracy didn't like the idea of being dependent on a forever prescription, but agreed to give the drug the doctor wanted her to try a chance. Kyle picked up her first supply of pills the next day on his way home from work. As soon as he handed her the bag she opened it and had a look at the long, long list of possible interactions with other medicines, not a big concern because she wasn't taking anything else except an occasional acetaminophen.
She studied the list of common side effects more carefully, some of which seemed as bad as the illness she already had! The list of rarely occurring side effects was even longer, but the first half dozen or so seemed less troubling than the more common ones, so she put away the tiny slip of paper, saving it to be reviewed some other time.
As Tracy was nearing the end of the 90-day supply of her prescription, she had mixed feelings. Her tremors had almost entirely disappeared most of the time, but did sometimes flare up if she was tired or stressed out. The good news was that she seemed to be tolerating the drug well, with no sign of side effects. She called her neurologist, who suggested that since she wasn't having any noticeable side effects, increasing the dosage of her anti-tremor medicine slightly might be worth a try. She agreed, and began taking the new dosage. After a few weeks at the higher dosage, her tremors were eliminated.
Soon after getting her tremors under control, she found a job as an administrative assistant at a non-profit agency in the center of her city helping homeless people find housing, her hands now steady enough to type as quickly and accurately as she ever had.
Tracy loved her new job, thoroughly enjoying being around adults after several years at home all the time with her kids. Kyle kidded her about all the shopping for clothes she did the first few weeks she was working, telling her he thought the real reason she wanted a job was to have an excuse to update her wardrobe. In fact, she was dismayed to find her pre-motherhood outfits either didn't fit too well or were way out of fashion, so she really did need to get more outfits to wear to work.
Though Kyle told her she was gorgeous just as she was, she used a small part of her paycheck on a gym membership to get herself a little closer to the svelte look she'd had before her pregnancies, taking advantage of her workplace's flexible rules to extend her lunch a few times a week to take a yoga class, lift weights or do some sort of cardio. Her minor splurges on clothes and the gym fit in with an attitude change which happened shortly after she found out about her illness. She realized she had spent basically her whole life doing what other people expected of her, and resolved to, at least some of the time, do what she felt like doing.
Tracy's newfound independence showed in small ways. She used to habitually deny herself little pleasures like going out to lunch or buying some small thing like a pair of earrings. Not anymore. Having even briefly been faced with the possibility that her life could be cut short, she decided that she ought to do a little more living in the moment than she had been doing. Having to take a handful of pills every day just to appear normal kept her from forgetting how unpredictable life could be.
One afternoon, during her walk back to work after a strenuous session on a treadmill, an outfit on display in a shop window caught Tracy's eye. She stopped dead in her tracks and thought, "Damn, that would be fun to wear!" She eyed the red halter top and asymmetric black chiffon miniskirt and tried to imagine herself wearing them, where, exactly? "Why, to work, of course," she chuckled, remembering seeing a few of the younger women in the office wearing outfits not so different from the one she was looking at. "But those girls are what, maybe twenty, twenty-one, and haven't been through a couple of pregnancies," she thought. Despite some doubts, she suddenly felt like she just had to have the outfit; she was in and out of the store in less than ten minutes, happily toting her new ensemble back to the office.
At home that night, Tracy left Kyle to dry the dinner dishes while she put Kevin and Emily to bed. Seeing that he'd be busy for a few more minutes, she went to her bedroom and took off the clothes she had worn to work; her standard long sleeve button-down blouse and tan chinos. She put on the skirt, then tried on the halter, taking it off twice to adjust the ties at the back of her neck. She realized that between its mostly exposed back and plunging neckline, she had no bra remotely able to be hidden by the top, so her bra joined today's blouse and slacks on the bed.
Adding her highest heels to finish her ensemble, she studied her reflection in a full-length mirror. She was glad her post-breastfeeding boobs hadn't lost all their fullness, giving the plunging neckline a generous amount of cleavage to show off. Tracy was also pleased to see how the shortest mini she'd ever dared to even try on made her legs look; she had always been self-conscious about her height, but this skirt made her 5'-3" frame seem longer. She called out to Kyle, still cleaning up in the kitchen, "I picked up a new work outfit this afternoon, I'm interested in your opinion..."
Kyle's jaw dropped when he turned around and saw Tracy in her new outfit. She twirled around to show him how it looked from all angles. "Wow, just wow," he said, then continued, "You look amazing, I love it, but is it really meant for work? I mean, Jesus, with your hair covering your neck, from behind it looks like you're topless!"
"Thanks, and yes, several of the younger women in our office dress this way. I'm a few years older than them, but I think I can make this outfit work, don't you?"
Kyle couldn't honestly disagree and was happy to give Tracy a more detailed review of her new outfit when she took his hand and led him to their bedroom.
