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In This Together.
LISA
May 17th 2018
I sit up, clutching the side rails of my bed as I watch my knuckles turn white. I need to use the bathroom and I'm sick of ringing the damn bell, waiting for a nurse to fart arse about looking for a bedpan before I can take a piss.
I repetitively press the button that's hooked up to the morphine. A few seconds later, a chill runs through my veins, followed by an overwhelming sense of giddiness.
I swing my legs over the side of the hospital bed, wincing as my bare feet touch the cold surface of the floor. I wince a second time as I rip the IV drip from my hand.
Not because it hurt.
But, as I watch the amount of blood streaming from the tiny hole, it reflects that it would have stung like a bitch. I can not help but admire the scarlet red liquid in all its glory as it cascades down the side of my hand, staining the floor with tiny droplets.
On wobbly feet, I stand, trying to put all my
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