What a pitiful, critical patient am I. I was rehabilitated, treated, and mostly healed the last time I went in.

But this time, I was already hooked up to the bag, already fading between consciousness and delusion, already pretty worried, when the doctor called out, “IV wide open.”

I came in on my own this time, doc. I did. There were a few times where I wanted to, thought I should, but, really…does it really seem that serious? I mean, I was able to walk, talk, eat, work. What’s that called? A functional addiction? Hahaha. No, I guess it’s not that funny considering the condition I’m in.

I understand that now. I understand that I should have come in sooner. I could have. I just, I mean, it wasn’t a big problem. And rehab is just, it’s so embarrassing.¬† Look at how many witnesses there are already.

What they think? No, that’s not necessarily important. But who they tell is. How? Um, I don’t really have an answer for that one. There’s just some folks I’d rather not have to talk to about this.

I wouldn’t use the term ‘afraid.’ What about ‘hesitant’, ‘private’, ‘discerning’?

I don’t like coming in here anymore than you like to see me like this. Look, can you just give me the once over and let me go?

Sure, I trust you to do what’s best. I AM relaxed! Drowsy, but relaxed.

What…What paperwork? There was no paperwork last time. Heavier consequences? Greater accountability? To whom?

This guy? Who’s he? But, wait, I can’t, what’s going on? Hold on…hard to stay awake…please, wait…

“The OR ready? Good. Let’s go. Hang ANOTHER bag, and I mean WIDE OPEN THIS TIME!”