f Notes from the Underground: Diseased Till Deceased
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Friday, March 13, 2009

Diseased Till Deceased

-Infectious Crumbs-

The doctor with a southern accent had seen Fred every now and then for over a decade now; whether it was a migraine attack or the collection of respiratory infections (Sinusitis, Bronchitis, Pharyngitis etc). While Fred was lying on the emergency ward bed he couldn't help but think that it was too early in the day to be in a hospital as a patient but the pain just wouldn't go away. It had been a week now and he was feeling this unjustified pain in the back of his head. He told the doctor with the southern accent that it only hurts when you press it or if you turn the neck to any side. It was the pain the kind one feels if one were hit by something hard and was recovering from it - and that is why Fred thought it was unjustified the pain had just come out of nowhere a week back when he got up after a long time in bed.
The psychologist had told him that he was not sick, it was a 'brain thing' as he said. His brain had convinced itself that blood production was unnecessary, there was no physical ailment to cure all Fred needed was to knock some sense into his brain and convince it otherwise. He had never been healthy physically so to speak but managed as it was, but after a week of no new blood he had acquired a white angelic aura around himself and a dream like texture in his skin.
He was struggling to eat, since metabolism was rendered unnecessary by his brain there was never any hunger. Fred practically wished to feel the longing for a heavy meal but it was not there. Three weeks had passed now and he could now feel the blood travel through his veins, like water rushes in a web of vessels to keep its level. Three weeks and Fred hadn't had a single idea about how to convince his brain of the right thing. The doctor, not the one with the southern accent but a psychologist, told him that it was not something he could cure, in fact there was nothing to be cured; he explained it to Fred as his brain's need to establish his authority - whatever knocked that idea into Fred's brain.
"You will not survive without blood, every tissue of all organ including yourself by the way will die." Fred stood in front of the mirror talking to what seemed to him now his own ghost. The dreamy texture of his skin now seemed nightmarish and angels would mind if his ghastly white aura was described as their attribute.

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