It’s been a shock. That’s all I can say. I was fine before. Driving, working. Next thing you know,  hospickle.

It’s all about the blood, you see. The only way I can describe it. Look. This pen. Imagine this pen is ma’ blood. Your normal blood’s like this – all the way to the top. Mine’s all the way down here. It’s got no water, you see. That’s why I’m so fucked up.

If you’d have told me two weeks ago….driving n’everything. And now I can’t hardly make the toilet. It’s mad. I don’t like it.

They did some x-rays. Apparently they found something, a shadow, in me lungs. I used to work on the docks, you see. They reckon it might’ve been to do with that, all the stuff I shifted then. Bad stuff, you know. The asbestiss. No-one thought anything of it, then. It was the miracle material.  It was everywhere. They’d have put it in the biscuits if they could. Probably ended up in the biscuits anyway.

So that’s me, for what it’s worth.

Am I drinking? No! I’m on a fluid restriction. Seven hundred and fifty millilitres, that’s it. What I could really do with is five pints, but I’m told that’d take me over.

What d’you reckon?

2 thoughts on “dry

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