A loss of breath blurred my vision. Oh, no. Oh, God. What's gone wrong now? How do I tell poor Joe? We were both talking about how everything was going smoothly and we'd both been feeling so well. Ah, the aches, the pains, but typical stuff. In the right light, funny stuff. After a couple bouts of serious illness in the past, I delight in simple small stuff.
But, what is this. I can see it's like a big bloody wound, or is is a blister. Right on my shoulder. Oh, my God. What is it?
Last time I diagnosed by computer I got it so wrong that I ended up delaying making the right decision to go to the doctor - which turned out to be a very wrong decision. Joe's wandering around the room as I'm writing this and he hasn't seemed to notice. I figure I'll leave it until I get into the bathroom and check the mirror in there. I'll have more privacy.
Before I have a chance to get up Joe, voice filled with disgust, says, 'What is that?' He heads towards me and then past me. He grabs a Kleenex from the box on the desk and wipes at the mirror removing some lipstick. A wound size kiss had been discolouring my shoulder.
Ha, ha, God.
Ha. Freaking, Ha.