Page 25 of It's A Little Bit Bunny
The oak bowed her branches.
He will come, the wind seemed to whisper.
Eighteen
Nikolai
IhadanappointmentwithDr Schmidt to go over my test results a couple of days after the game.
“Mr Lorenz, good to see you.” He held out his furry hand. I shook it.
“Hi, Dr Schmidt.”
“Please.” I took the visitor’s chair across the desk from him, feeling like a pupil in the headmaster’s office rather than a functioning adult.
You didn’t do anything wrong. Chill the fuck out!
I’d always felt like that, and it drove me nuts. I always imagined I was one meeting away from being called out for being a clever imposter who’d tricked his way into wherever he was.
And after over twenty years of me feeling wrong they finally tell me I have a weird brain. Great! Thanks!
Over the past couple of days doubt had crept in. How could they be so sure it was ADHD? Maybe I just sucked.
“So, my colleague already informed you about your diagnosis.”
You have a vivid imagination, and you’re an excellent trickster.
“Yeah…” I hedged.
“The results were so clear we might call this a high score, not that I would have expected anything less from you after what you told me about your career progression.” Schmidt winked at me and righted his round spectacles.
“Yeah, your colleague told me. I still haven’t wrapped my head around it.”
“It will take a while for you to come to terms with it. We often observe similar struggles in late-diagnosed adults.”
“Struggles? What struggles?” I snapped sarcastically. “You mean the fact that my brain is fucked up? Nothing changed and my life just fucking broke! I’m still training every day, and when I have a day off, I still head to the gym. Hell, I even started doing yoga!”
“I understand that you’re upset, Mr Lorenz.”
“I’m not upset!” I barked, breathing like a bull. “I’m—” But I didn’t even knowwhatI felt. My insides were in turmoil, my emotions an unidentifiable mass in my chest.
“It’s okay. You have every right to be angry or confused.”
Both. I was both. And sad. And scared.
Shit, I hadn’t even realised I’d jumped to my feet with my fists balled. Then the fog lifted, and I flopped back into the chair. Hiding my face in my hands, I tried to calm myself with the breathing technique Søren had taught us.
Schmidt didn’t speak until I eventually looked up. An understanding smile sat on his lips, exposing his sharp canines.
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you what changed. We’ve observed that adults sometimes lose their ability to mask. You told me about your dating history. It might have been that or something else. A change in diet or exercise routine, a move, or simply the moment when you couldn’t hide that part of you anymore.”
“So what do I do now?”
My neuropsychiatrist spent the next ten minutes explaining my “brain differences”, as he called it, then gave me my options.
“The medication we can offer you isn’t a cure all, but it can help you cope better. We recommend ongoing therapy, and keep those forest walks up. They seem to do you good. Maybe find a hobby…”
Don’t blush, Nik!
