The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) by Henriette Gyland Read Free Book Online Page B

with epilepsy.’
    ‘So let me get this straight: on the say-so of someone who knows someone you decide to play around with your medication?’
    ‘Pretty much.’
    ‘Lordy!’ He threw up his hands. ‘Have you been seizure free?’
    ‘Not completely, but I never was, not even with the tablets.’
    ‘Hm.’ For a moment Dr Boyd regarded her with a curious expression, then he shook his head. ‘Well, you’re clearly in one piece. However, as your consultant it’s my duty to tell you that experimenting like this, without any kind of medical supervision, is dangerous. You do know that, don’t you?’
    Helen nodded, swallowing hard. She’d said to Aggie that she’d come to terms with her condition, but it was only a half-truth. Most of the time she managed to hide it, controlling minor seizures as well as she could, but the thought of having a major seizure terrified her. It had happened a few times in her life, and she’d either frightened the people around her or become the subject of their ridicule. And each time the shame of it had made her distance herself that little bit further from the world around her.
    ‘I haven’t had any major seizures.’
    ‘Hm,’ he said again. ‘I practise conventional medicine, but that doesn’t mean I completely pooh-pooh alternative remedies. Epilepsy Action has written about the connection between cannabis and seizure control. Since controlling these episodes is the goal, I’m happy to support you, although I think you should use it with your normal medication. I just can’t prescribe it on the NHS.’
    ‘Of course not,’ said Helen. ‘Anyway, I’d like to go back on the Carbamazepine, because, well, I don’t really feel comfortable buying weed.’
    ‘Fine, fine, we can get you back on the medication. I want you to keep a diary of seizures to see if there’s a pattern and if it changes, your general well-being, what you eat and drink. You know the drill.’
    ‘Sure,’ said Helen, knowing she wouldn’t. She’d tried before, starting each time with a certain amount of enthusiasm, then stopped, because keeping a diary was a constant reminder that she wasn’t like everybody else.
    ‘Include your interpersonal relationships this time,’ he continued. ‘That’ll give me an idea of your mental state.’
    Helen thought of Aggie and Fay, and Ruth who hated her, and clenched her jaw. ‘My mental state is fine. I’m just not very good at forming relationships.’
    ‘Right,’ he said and typed something on the computer. ‘A word of warning: as always when you mess with your medication, there’ll be a period of readjustment. You may experience a higher number of seizures, and possibly even have grand mal seizures.’
    ‘Any new tips for how to avoid them?’
    At that Dr Boyd gave a little laugh. ‘Same advice as always, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Okay.’ She knew the score. No alcohol. Pace yourself. Eat properly. Avoid getting excited because adrenaline can lead to seizures. Yada, yada.
    She wondered if wreaking vengeance counted as getting too excited.
    If so, she was doomed.
    Back at the hotel, Aggie’s solicitor had left a message with Fay’s address. A map told Helen it was in Shepherd’s Bush, only a stone’s throw from her first foster home.
    Trundling along what had once been familiar territory with a curious feeling of detachment, she felt as if that early part of her life had all been a dream, and India was the only place she’d ever really existed.
    Fay’s home was a four-storey Edwardian town house which must once have been an elegant middle-class residence, but was now in a sorry state. Peeling plaster, rotten woodwork, crumbling concrete steps leading to the basement area at the front. Venturing downstairs looked like suicide. Incongruously, the brass knocker on the front door gleamed in the sunlight as if in defiance against the rest of the decay. Higher up, a set of curtains billowed from an open window, flapping in the gentle breeze. That, combined