Alcoholic cirrhosis

“I don’t have a disease, I’m just concluding a very long slump in my life. It’s behind me.”

Mr. Doe’s words were not original as he spoke to the attendees that Saturday morning. After copious amounts of cheap wine and cough medicine, and almost unable to stand on his own feet, he walked into a building that seemed somehow familiar.

These words echoed from a past long since forgotten. There he was, 30, sitting in a white gown, unsure of his surroundings. The bruising under his eyes and pale skin were almost as troubling as his frail body that seemed to be swallowed up by the hospital gown. The breeze from the hallway seemed to pierce through his bones every time someone entered the room as he continued shuddering.

We all overdose once in our lives, he thought to himself. Some just take a few more steps in a particular direction.

The tight neon wristband was a fine touch to the previous blurry night and couple of years. A bit of realism from an otherwise bad dream. How long had it been?

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