I have been admitted in the hospital for a week now. Not that I am sick or anything. Nope. I just needed some peace of mind. Of course the services here are excellent and they give you value for your money. It’s expensive yes, but still the private ward I’m in is much more beautiful and serene than my place. A nice perfect little getaway is all I need right now. The nurses are lovely. They smell nice, a much more refined taste of lavender, cherries and fruits of the forest just to name them all. Some nurses are svelte while others are plump and of course I couldn’t miss to spot the huge ones who came with an assurance of a motherly love. They’d ask me how was my night, if I slept well, if I needed the pillows changed or if I needed the a.c at a temperature favorable to me. They’d go on asking what I’d want for breakfast and the likes. General concerns of my well being were being addressed for the first time in a very long while. Tomorrow would be my eighth day in the hospital. I had some weird fetishes that perhaps the nurses would give me head, but porn hub is a scam.
Pardon my intrusions, I believe we haven’t introduced ourselves to each other. I’m Akala Kudzu. The noisy patient from VIP 6 ward. Yes. You’d wonder why I’m in a hospital, yet I do all the bad things that the doctors forbid. Yes the ward is huge. It has a huge smart tv screen UHD 55inch I think. Their WiFi works perfectly fine without any hitches. There’s a balcony that overlooks the rest of the city below. The bathroom has a tub. I seriously have a thing for tubs. I’d smoke outside on the balcony if I’m bored, I’d order miniature bottles of whiskey if I couldn’t get the groove on and of course would order food which wasn’t health friendly. They always brought out a balanced diet.
So, why is Akala Kudzu in a hospital if he isn’t sick?
Six days ago I checked into this hospital for a full body check up. Well it was my annually body check up just to ensure that I didn’t have anything terminal or diseases that would make me drop my face down in shame. My tests came out all okay. So I insisted that they should check if I had any sign of tumors which meant that I’d be staying with them for a while. That’s what I exactly wanted. I couldn’t stand off the noise and quarrels that had become frequent in my own house. Twice she threatened me that she’d kill me if I ever cheated on her or ‘jumped her’ if she ever got pregnant. All these was masked under a pretense of laughter. She’d always act insecure and it drove me up the walls that she would try to snoop and find ways of me cheating on her.
Whenever I’d be in the shower she’d try to crack through to no avail. However that didn’t last long, she found a way to install a spy app on my phone. I noticed it. And had to factory erase stuff. Painful, thankfully everything was saved in the cloud. We both worked in the technological fields. I’m the easy relaxed type that believes in the notion, “what you don’t know doesn’t kill you.” I can’t seem to find some peace of mind while next to her, cause nothing is ever good for her. It’s either I’m driving too fast, came with the wrong groceries home, or I haven’t done something to her taste and perfection. The frustrations that I couldn’t do anything good to her bothered me at times. I found a way of curbing the migraines with whiskey, but for how long would I have to endure?
Normally I’m the care free person, I laugh alot, joke alot, flirt perhaps, the ladies love me, but I’ve tried getting these beautiful nurses to give me a memorable time to no avail. *boy no hospital sex* I’d have to stop watching too much porn. The fetishes are becoming too much. I’d prefer this type of dry spell other than having sex with a robot.
I should go see a psychiatrist. Atleast he/she might help me get away from my 88,000 acres of bad shit.
The 8th day in hospital,………
The hospital decided to book me an appointment with some certain hot shot psychologist. I requested that she should examine me in my room. Come on, get your thoughts out of the gutter for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t want to bonk someone who goes through your brain.
“Mr Akala Kudzu, the psychologist is here to see you,” the nurse said as her head popped through the door. I told her to notion the doctor to come in.
“I’m Dr. Artemina your psychologist during your stay in this hospital.” She said. She was 5′ 6 I think, her hair had a burgundy colour, she had huge round almond shaped eyes, she had an Australian accent. It was beautiful how she spoke. A melody, a symphony, something soothing close to when a harp’s being played.
“So what brings you to Regalia Memorial Hospital. Well let me rephrase, why ask for my services when I can see you are of perfect health and of sane mind?” Artemina asked.
Akala: Come, take a seat. Join me for a smoke in the balcony. Do you smoke Doctor? Or you’d say smoking is bad for my health.
Artemina: Pass me one,…..
I pass her the packet, she fishes out one and lights up. She takes a rather long drag before she focuses her attention to me.
Akala: I’m here cause I need some sanity. I think I might loose it one of these few days.
Artemina: What is it that’s bothering you?
Akala: I’m in an abusive and toxic relationship with someone close to me.
Artemina: Why don’t you leave or try changing directions?
Akala: I tried leaving but she caught wind of it. She slashed my braking lines. I was exiting the freeway when I tried stomping on the breaks and I noticed that they weren’t receptive. I crashed. I didn’t die as you can see. My car was written off. A month ago I had an argument with her and she slashed my shoulder right here with a knife.
Artemina: Have you tried to talk to her, open up and let her know that whatever she’s doing is wrong? Does she have a clue that you’re having the fun of your life in a hospital while gawking at the nurses ass each time they visit your room?
Akala: Nope no one knows, not my parents, siblings, colleagues nor her. I just want to start afresh. I know your report is the final one which would give me a clean bill before they can let me out. See doctor, the problem is about me not getting discharged. It’s about me going back to face my demon in the house.
Artemina: Well, I suggest you move as far away as possible. Change identities and everything. Start afresh.
Akala: But how now?
Artemina: You do know that you’d be discharged tomorrow. Why don’t you report the abuses to the higher ups?
Akala: The problem is that no one would believe me that I’m being harrased. Society looks down upon a man who says that he has or was being harassed. Harassment doctor here comes in many ways. At times my seed would be harvested without my consent. And there for it is medically hard to prove that sex was unwanted. I got no scars to show on my penis. Our judicial system is wired to unfavor cases of men calling out for any type of harrasment as we are always viewed as the villain. When she cut my shoulder she was the one who screamed. How doctor could I get myself out of that one?
Artemina: You’re married? Kids perhaps?
Akala: Traditional marriage. Kids none.
Artemina: Did you report to the police department?
Akala: Our police system is a joke. They are not fully trained and at times unwilling to handle cases of male harassment.
Artemina: Do you have bad dreams, migraines perhaps?
Akala: I do, each night I’m thrown into a vast prison with her ilk who do all types of bad shit.
Artemina: I’ll give you some depressants for now to calm your nerves. I’ll help you get out of the hole you are in. I have to go now.
Akala: Anytime doctor, thank you.
Artemina: Akala, one more thing. They say only milk and juice comes in two litres.
Akala: I guess that’s the only thing left that’s separating me from self destruction.
I, Akala Kudzu son of the soil wants to get as far away as possible from the 88,000 acres of bad shit that is about to happen and boy I know she won’t go down without a fight.
War is here.
Ps: I’m off writing till 7th of January. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.