I just finished talking to the police. But I need to get it down here because once again people are trying to comfort me. They say that there's nothing I could have done, which is probably true. But I have been shaking for two days and I can't get the images out of my head. So I need to talk about it.
I went to the hospital on Halloween about my biopsy. I didn't get lost this time. After a while I've learned to memorize the various corridors even though they all look the same. I still had to pass a lot of hallways though. Met the hypochondriac again. He was talking to a nurse dressed as a pirate.
Walter. He said his name was Walter.
Not everyone was in costume but there was enough to make a surreal experience. Clowns and pop icons and cloaked figures milling around a hospital is just wrong somehow. But I weaved through it until I got to my appointment. Then I waited until the doctor could see me.
I was told that one of the lumps is completely benign. But the other one is some kind of tissue that while not cancerous could maybe develop into cancer in the future. So they want to continue monitoring it and see if it grows. A mammogram every year or so. They took one that night.
They did say that I could get it removed if I wanted. But since there is no health concern right now it would be considered an elective surgery. Insurance wouldn't pay for it and as much as I want this foreign mass out of my chest I just can't afford the procedure.
I was walking back through the corridors when I saw the hypochondriac again. Walter. Usually he's erratic but it makes a sort of sense. He thinks he has appendicitis, his vision is going blurry. Simple things like that. But this night he was just out of control. He was yelling and screaming throwing things around. He was rubbing his skin so hard that it was getting raw and bloody. He turned to me and grabbed my arm.
"It's everywhere." he said. And he kept on saying it over and over. I tried to get free of him but he started shaking me. Kept yelling. One of the nurses had called for help and several doctors pulled him off me. He escaped them and locked himself inside a supply closet.
I don't know why I stayed. I was terrified but I was also concerned about him for some reason. I stood there as the doctors unlocked the door and opened it. But by the time they had he was already dead.
He had doused himself in bleach. I could hear him screaming through the door. And when that wasn't enough he had swallowed the rest of it.
The police only talked to me out of procedure I think. It was rather obviously a suicide.
Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. and my skin itch.