101 Psychos

#5 - Doctors Orders

Psycho #5 - Doctors Orders -

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A Tale of the Terminally Ill:

When individuals are diagnosed with a terminal illness shock, despair, depression, and anger are common responses. In some cases these reactions become extreme and trigger a psychotic breakdown.

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'You have AIDS.', the test confirmed.

"I'm divorcing you.", the wife yelled.

"I hate you.", the kids declared.

Next, the boss would say I was fired, of this I was sure. No one would want to be seen by a tainted doctor. Over twenty years of respect and dignity gone out the window because of one night of poor judgement and a single, lying, whore.

"Two hundred bucks buys you a good time and you can send me on my way after." the woman promised.

Yeah, right. I thought. I'm stuck with your plague for the rest of my life now. I should have known it was too good to be true.

The test results made me bitter towards the world and angry at God. I was a good man. Flawed yes, but I certainly didn't deserve to die from such a wretched disease.

I am a good man.

My family abandoned me after I came clean about my actions and illness. I was quickly kicked out of my comfortable home and forced to move into a cheap motel room. I understand my wife's anger towards me, hell, I would have been angry too, but the disgust on my children's faces was almost too much to bare. After a few days of utter silence, depression, and overall boredom I tried calling my beloved son and daughter; just to hear their voices. To know they were okay. Both refused to speak to me.

My time spent sitting in lonely silence made me realize just how much I hated everything and everyone, but especially my patients. That's how I met the hooker to begin with. She'd come in because of a deep cut down her forearm; an accident, she assured us. By time the bloody slice was all patched up we were already making plans to meet at a hotel later that evening.

I was her doctor! I should have known she was a filthy, desease infested, trash pit! It's not customary to do blood samples with such basic needs though. Her arm was caked in deep crimson, half dried when I saw her, but the bleeding itself had already stopped. It was just a matter of stitches. A blood sample wasn't needed. I can't have known, but I should have. Deceitful little wretch.

I began fabricating a plan during those long nights spent in loathsome contemplation. I decided if this disease was going to kill me, then I would take as many patients with me as possible. That'd give them an actual reason to be coming in all the time, instead of injuries caused by stupidity or flue viruses I can't do anything about. I resented others for their good health, and their obvious desire to be sick so as to avoid work and more.

Surely they deserve the curse more than me.

I applied at two other hospitals in separate towns and hired by both. Why wouldn't I be? I was the best damn doctor the state had. Hundreds of lives were saved because of my healing hands. Before this... incident, hospitals were practically fighting over me. All I had to do was fib about my current employment status and presto! I was hired within hours.

It was only a matter of time before they found out about my diagnosis though, so I had to act quickly. My plan was so simple, there was no way it wouldn't work.

Heading into the supply closet of hospital number one, I opened the drawer marked 'NEEDLES'. Each one was packaged separately, to insure they were sanitized. I took each package out of the drawer and piled them on a nearby table. Pulling out a chair, I sat down next to them.