I Smell Dead People

I’m in Chelsea and Westminster Hospital and I can smell dead people. The foul stench of rotting flesh and fecal matter is crawling its way up through my nasal cavity and into my medulla oblongata, causing my heart to beat worryingly fast. Or is it slow? I guess that’s the NHS for you. Jesus, I know they’re cheap but surely they could splurge on an air freshener. It’s times like this I wish I didn’t have such an acute sense of smell. Note to self: snort more drugs.

My boyfriend is asleep in the bed next to me hooked up to all sorts of machines- some that flash, some that buzz, and one that looks like a giant sponge which is connected to his foot. There’s an IV in his arm, his skin is so pail I can see each and every one of his violet veins, and he’s wearing nothing but a hospital gown. Can it be that for the first time in my life I actually think a boy looks too thin? Survey says: no. I’m a real sucker for that whole “about to die” look. It really turns me on. We fucked in his hospital bed about two hours ago.

The old guy in the next bed has no teeth and keeps shitting his pants. Hence the smell of excrement. Every time it’s the same- the air turns foul, he starts screaming uncontrollably and then eventually one of the fat Nigerian nurses comes stomping in, making a squeaking noise with her mouth that sounds like she’s sucking air through her teeth with her tongue (this apparently signifies disapproval in their culture). This is when old man begins squawking abuse at everyone in his general area, but because he has no teeth you can barely understand a word he’s saying. Last time I managed to make out both “you’re a monster” and “I’m going to kill you.” He seems like a nice guy.

The worst, however, is the guy directly opposite. He’s half bald and his eyes are wild and evil. He looks like a psycho killer. Actually, I take that back. He is a psycho killer. I’m certain of it. You just don’t have a face like that unless you like to chop people up into tiny, neatly packaged pieces. He never has any visitors. When he first came into the ward he was wearing a beret. Killers wear berets.

I’ve been here in this portal of human decay nearly every day for a week now, and by the sounds of it I will have to endure this torture for at least another. It’s a bit of a soul rotting experience surrounding oneself with death and disease, loss and sadness, misfortune and disfigurement. The anger within me is boiling and my head is not in a good place. Sickness is a seriously bad game, and I’d like to thank whoever it is I’m supposed to be thanking that I have my health.



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