Anthony is in hospital

I've just been to visit Anthony in Maroondah Hospital. He called me this morning to tell me where he was. So, I got in my car and headed out there to surprise him. I was going to buy him a flower, some terrible thing from 7 11, just because the thought amused me, but in the end I didn't, I forgot.

He told me a week ago that he thought he had pneumonia and I hadn't called him since. I left him a message yesterday, 

"I'm a bad friend, I know, if you are not dead call me." Ha, ha. 

I didn't really believe the pneumonia thing, I wasn't sure. Anthony has had a touch of the hypercondria about him, since he went nuts in the naughties. Twice.

I'm not exactly sure what is wrong with him, as I had to pump the info out of him, he wasn't very forth coming. An inflamed pancreas, apparently, maybe caused by gaul stones, he was told this morning, or maybe caused by alcohol. 
I smiled down at him and tried not to smile too broadly. Alcohol? Considering he is often pissed just after breakfast, my money was on that. But, he takes it so seriously and he didn't seem to know why he was in hospital. Shrug. Who would know.
A wine chaser with your cereal? doesn't that kind of give it away? You know, just a wild guess? It doesn't give you a clue? at all? Really? Nothing?

When I got there, the doctor was trying to find a vein to input a drip to feed him. The curtain was drawn. Apparently, all his veins were collapsing, and the IV wouldn't catch. (I don't even really know what that means? How can a vein collapse without you dying? Or losing a limb?)

I headed down to the cafe for junk food, yum yum, while the doctor punctured Anthony's arm. Stab, stab. I congratulated myself all the way for having quit smoking again last week. Did I tell you? Last Monday.

Fuck hospitals are awful and I must remind myself to be healthy to stay out of them, every time I want to relapse. All that faded cream paint work and pale blue accessories. Yuk!


When I got back, Anthony was catheterised and attached to a drip and was in immense pain. He wanted a cigarette, but couldn't go as the drip was now in his foot. The nurse offered him patches and I tried to encourage him, but he declined grumpily.

It was an altogether unpleasant experience for me, so you can imagine how he must be feeling. Terrible, by the pain etched across his face. I had to leave him, as he wasn’t really able to cope with me being there.