Under Pressure- a story about a pharm rep turned psychic.

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summary: a pharm rep finds herself with new abilities. how will she cope?

Part I
The day that would change my life forever started Normally. I got up, showered, ate breakfast, and dressed professionally, for my job at Boveda Pharmaceuticals, which specialized in medications for psychiatric conditions. I worked as a pharm rep, informing doctors of the various medications available. An ex once, in an argument, called me a drug pusher, and that really pissed me off. Doctors don’t always have time to be up to date on what’s out there, and it was up to Pharm reps like me to keep them informed. I drove to the office, checked in, and went on my rounds. They went well, most of the psychiatrists were receptive to the new medications I was promoting.
“How is this better than the last anti depressant you showed me last time?” one of them challenged me. She had worked as a psychiatrist longer than I’d been alive. She had her graying hair in a bun, and wore a cynical expression.
“ As I said, it’s been shown to have less side effects.”
“But it decreases libido”
“There’s a possibility, yes, but there is no risk of worsening symptoms.
“I’ll pass.” She gave the sample back to me.
I tried to persuade him to at least let one patient try it out, but she refused. As I left, I felt a jolt of electricity, pain in the back of my head as it banged against something, and all become black.
I woke up, with pain, and in a bed. A man in blue scrubs saw me, told me to relax, and left. Soon, a doctor, came into the Room. My father was at my side, as were my sisters.
“Ms. Rodriguez?” He looked at the chart.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“I felt a jolt of electricity and something hit my head.”
“You were tasered, and your head landed on the corner of a desk.” He explained gently, while waving around a pen light. “you’ve got a concussion, and a small hematoma. We’ll need to do some tests, and a neurologist will come see you shortly.”
“Thank you Doctor.” I said From the corner of my eye, I saw someone familiar; my mother. How could that be? She had died when I was a teen of cancer.
“Is something wrong?” My father asked, seeing my expression.
“No no…I’m still getting used to being awake.” I assured him “How long was I out?”
“Since yesterday” My older sister Michelle said.
“I gotta call my boss!” I exclaimed.
“I did that already.” Michelle said.
“Thanks.” I saw a lot of people surrounding my bed, staring me. Who were they? It seemed that I was the only one seeing them, as my family did not say a word about these ‘guests’. Though I thought I saw my mother shoo them away.
After a couple of days, I was allowed to go home. My sister wanted me to stay with her, but I wanted to be at my own place. It was a loft in one of the nicer areas of San Francisco.
As I settled to watch a movie, I, to my surprise, saw my mother.
“Hija, listen to me.” She told me in the Cuban Spanish she preferred to speak in. “You are not hallucinating. This is me. You now have the ability to see ghosts.”
“What?”
“She’s right.” A mysterious man with silver hair, blue eyes, and a wrinkled, face said..
“And you are?”My mother switched to English.
“Agent John Craft, FBI. I was killed right after my retirement party.”
“See sweetie. Where would you come up with that?” Mom said lamely.
“I died in that hospital you were in.” he told me. “And noticed you. People with your kind of abilities stand out like a light in the dark for us ghosts.”
“Oh……” I was not convinced. After all, the brain was so delicate, that any little bang on it could really cause major changes.
“I know, you think that we are hallucinations, products of the accident you had.” He said, “But we are not. I can prove it too you. Google my name. See what you get.”
Since I had a modem, I reluctantly did just that. His name turned up on several articles about major busts and there was one about his murder.
“I could have read about you and forgotten about it unconsciously.” I told him.
“Concussions and hematomas don’t cause hallucinations.” He told me patiently.
“I’m gonna go take a bath.” I declared. “No one follow me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” John promised.
“Take your time.” Mom said.


TBC

(check back on this Thread to read part 2)