dying

He was dying, victim of a slow suicide.

Gasp. Gulp. Gasp.

"Umm, sir." I asked, squinting my eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

He did not respond.

Angry Black Man followed his "brother" into the other room.

i look him over. In the dark of the basement, he appeared near death. His arms were covered in bandages, hiding gigantic scabs and pus-filled blisters. His chest was gaunt and sunken, nothing more than ribs and skin.

I asked him when was the last time he used heroin, thinking he might be in heroin withdrawal. Last night, he saidm, still gasping. Hmm, there goes that theory.

ABM returned, approaching me. He whispered in my ear, "His brother said he's High Five, Hep C, TB, fucking everything." High Five is our code word for HIV, and Hep C & TB are classic dirtbag diseases gotten from sharing needles and living in third world type conditions.

I looked the man over again, searching for a spot to place an IV. Nothing. He had shot up so much that there was no hope for him. He was all scabs and sickness and death. We threw him on some oxygen and carried him out to the ambulance.

At the hospital, as we waited for a nurse, the man started shaking and jerking about.

"What's his problem?" asked one of the EMTs.

"Status Dirtbagus" I said, laughing sarcastically.

After a while, the muscle jerks and trembling became uncontrollable and the man unbuckled the straps holding him down.

I approached him. "Dude," I said, "What's wrong with you? What should I tell the doctor?" It was a longshot, I knew, but what the hell, it never hurts to ask.

"Cocaine...overdose," said, gasping for air.

"No shit?" I nodded, suddenly putting it all together.

"I think..." he continued, "I'm having a heart attack."

Comments

[basically nyc]

i like your phrasing, "victim of a slow suicide"... keep up the good blog.

[Angi]

Not everyone who has hep c is a dirt bag. I mean in your profession you should know this. There are other ways of getting hep c than sharing needles but whatever maybe I am just a dirt bag who knows nothing