And there it was again. br Eight months without br and hope abundant, br his faith, which was br needless to say, things, br real things hoped for, br such as dreams br also necessities, br the foul essentials br of a life he had not wanted. br br The bloody pain. br The hospital had seemed, br those years ago br indifferent, yes br because he did not have br a proper policy br nor dog-eared cash br to pay for tests br and 'management'. br br No one could tell him br about the nature of br the menace that would come br a couple times a year br with a ferocity br that rivalled death itself. br br So, in the end he did consult br the latest books on medicine, br for diagnosis and the lot, br it could be, so they said br diverticulitis, or polyps, br or some type of colitis, br such as Crohn's or IBS, br he also found that, in the end br it was too likely to deteriorate br and turn itself into malignancy, br as if you needed that, br Oh Modern Medicine, he chanted br give me your pills, and potions. br I'll swallow them for peace br and for a cure that does defy br the books and all the learnings, br I do not give a stuff at all. br Just take that friggin' pain away, br and I will pay you with my soul, br when all my money has run out br and crazy devils still persist br in sending missiles straight to me. br br He hid the blood as it appeared, br and left no trace for her to find br inside the tub or anywhere, br it was his little secret only now, br the first and so essential br perhaps the gods would show br a bit of mercy.