Obsession (iii)

Part III

The Falling Joys: Lock It (Link retired)

Sam was nearly 30 when I met him. He worked sporadically. Sometimes as a labourer with his mate who owned his own business. Sometimes building sets with another mate, Herb, at the Film and TV school. As long as he had enough to pay rent and party, he didn’t care for anything more. And if he didn’t have enough… well, the rent could wait.

I was fascinated by the carefree attitude he and his friends had to life. Their one aim in life seemed to be to enjoy themselves. Completely guilt free. They had no concern for consequences. I looked in from the outside and was entranced. My life was vastly different.

Life for me in my early 20s was like a series of snatched moments. I worked long hours in a job I hated, in an industry I loved. It was badly paying, so I worked a second job on evenings and the weekends making and delivering pizzas. I played basketball once or twice a week with my old school friend Trudy and I saw movies and a band once or twice a week with my best friend Tony. I was always on my way somewhere, running late for something. And I went out drinking three or four nights a week, which was when I would usually meet up with Sam. Too much stress, too little sleep, too much alcohol and smoking instead of eating meant I was on a cocktail of antibiotics to combat the perpetual tonsillitis I suffered.

Work had become even more stressful with a new manager being brought in to replace the woman I had worked for over the past four years, and I succumbed again to illness.

Normally I could work through it, but this time it was much worse than usual. I was so weak I had to crawl to the bathroom and lived off sips of orange juice. I lost my voice and my jaw seized shut, so I couldn’t call anyone, and my car battery had gone flat from not being driven. I lived on my own and didn’t know any of my neighbours.

My phone would ring and the answering machine would kick in, but everyone was used to me being busy and never home, so they didn’t think it unusual I wasn’t answering. If I wasn't so tired I would have been frightened.

Sam turned up after about a week of me not answering his calls. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the strong light behind him creating a silhouette, and the small potplant in his hand, was like an answer to my prayers. I wrote a simple note. "Take me to the doctor."

My doctor gave a simple instruction. "Get her to the hospital. NOW."