My life had been pretty terrible last week. It all started with the previous post, where my pity shows of fear combusted the paranoia in me until its flames consumed my innermost feelings of near death threats. That drove me to consult the nearest friendly clinic and chronicle the first-ever consultation of my entire life.

I became (a) patient. I shamelessly confessed my dizzy thoughts and incorporated it to the history of my stupid head accident. The doctor then (examined) looked at the scar covered by my hairy head and without any further ado, she advised me to undergo a skull x-ray and CBC (complete blood count) and gave me her usual scribbled prescription. On her medical speech, she also mentioned about CT scan and other tests God-knows-what, if in cases the advised tests would be negative. Instantaneous relief is what I got after the confession (which made me realize I should also confess all my sins to the priest), but not too long, I was kind of devastated before those succeeding medical terms and medical bills in the future.

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