Fat Cat by Robin Brande Read Free Book Online Page A

here for."
    I groaned. "Would you please go away?"
    "Give me your hand first."
    "What?"
    "Cat, just give me your hand."
    I felt too weak to resist. Matt picked up my hand and pinched it hard on the webbing between my thumb and index finger. "Here," he said, "you do it." He moved my other hand to where his was and showed me where to squeeze. "It's a pressure point. It takes away headaches."
    He let go of my hand and walked away.
    I didn't want to, but I muttered, "Thanks," because it seemed like the polite thing to do. I don't think he heard me, which is just as well. The less conversation with him, the better.
    For about ten minutes I concentrated on keeping pressure on that point. And then I sort of got distracted, and I don't know when I stopped pressing, but when I thought about it again the pain was gone.
    He was right. Again.
    It almost would have been worth having the headache back just to prove him wrong.

13
    A fter school I walked to work . And I'm shocked to say it actually felt good. The fresh air, the quiet, the sun beating down on me--it all made my head feel a lot better. By the time I got there I was bone-tired, but I almost wished I could have kept on walking. As soon as I stopped, the headache came rushing back.
    I hobbled down the stairs (no more elevators for this hominin), made it to Poison Control, and then slumped into a chair.
    "You look terrible," Nancy said.
    "Oh, honey," my mom agreed.
    "Is it possible to die of reverse poisoning?" I asked them.
    "Only two ways to handle it," Nancy said. "Either go back on caffeine and the chemicals or ride it out."
    "I don't have a choice," I said. "I have to do this."
    My mother typed something into her computer, and read what she found. "'Symptoms of caffeine withdrawal are most acute within the first twelve to twenty-four hours.' How long has it been?"
    "I can't do math right now."
    She read on. "'Symptoms may include headache, muscle aches--'"
    "Yep."
    "'--nausea--'"
    "Oh, yeah."
    "'--and a general feeling of malaise.'"
    "Does that mean wanting to die?" I asked.
    "'Symptoms may last two to nine days.'" She typed something more. "Let's see what it says about withdrawal from artificial sweeteners."
    "Mom, this isn't helping."
    "Oh, sorry. Want some aspirin?"
    "Can't." If one more person offered me that, I was going to cry.
    I wasn't much use to them today, both my hands being occupied most of the time (damn Matt--that pressure-point thing really does work). The most I did was put postage on a few brochures. My mother offered to go get me some soup or something from the cafeteria, but I couldn't be sure it would pass my rule of being made of only hominin food, so I had to decline. I went up there to look around for myself.
    I brought back a banana, an apple, a plum, and a bag of nuts. Nancy took one look and said, "That ought to make some interesting bowels."
    No point in acting embarrassed--nothing is off-limits to talk about in a hospital.
    "What do you mean?" I asked.
    "You'll see. You ought to have an interesting few days adjusting to all that. When I gave up coffee, I was constipated the whole time. But with all the fruit you're eating--not to mention the nuts--hmm, should be interesting."
    "You keep saying 'interesting.'"
    "No better way to describe it," she said. "You'll see."
    My bowels were the least of my worries this afternoon. I had zero energy. I felt like death. I was finally hungry, but I didn't feel like eating what I could eat, and couldn't eat what I wanted to (like that nice big cinnamon roll I saw up in the cafeteria).
    I took one bite of banana, then put it aside.
    "Honey," my mom said, "are you sure about this?"
    I put my head down on the desk and moaned, "No."
Day 2 (cont.)
Total food intake: One bite banana, one slice dry toast (bread processed and full of preservatives, but safety exception, since subject appears to be dying).

14
Day 3, Saturday, August 23
A little more human. Barely.
    I opened one eye, testing the situation.
    Head? Still