But then it was over and they wheeled him back. The diabetic in the bed next to him was awake now and reading a magazine, his mother resting in a chair alongside. The drug counselor for the hospital came by and murmured through a survey. Pat could only make out every third word, but this guy had taken a whole pharmacy of drugs Pat had never heard of. The counselor talked about the hazardous cocktail effect of drinking and pills on diabetes, and the guy feigned forbearance, but no one believed that, especially the mother, who stared down at the floor and couldn’t face her own child. Pat realized this was just the start of a new cycle for this guy. The hospital would dry him out, and then he’d pick up again, and the mother knew that whole big wheel of shit was coming and it would turn him up either back here or at Sparkman Hillcrest cemetery, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.

Another doctor, a younger guy, whisked into the room. He didn’t interrupt the drug counselor but came over directly to Pat. His name tag read: dr. hoo. Pat almost found that funny. Dr. Hoo grinned, calm and dispassionate, and then looked over Pat’s chart, his X-rays and blood work.

“Mr. Malone, how are we feeling?”

“I’m okay, I guess. Just this pain in my side, really.”

“Yes, we thought it might be the appendix, right?”

“That’s what the other doctor said, yes.”

“Well according to this, I’m not sure it’s your appendix. Let me see something here.” Dr. Hoo reached down along Pat’s white belly. His fingers were cool and soft as he poked around. “Any pain here?”

His side felt tight and catchy, like a hernia, but Pat shook his head no.

“Okay. Mr. Malone, looking at this blood work, the liver functions are . . . well . . . they are quite elevated, and that’s not good. I think your liver is swollen, and that’s the tenderness you’re feeling.”

He was so matter-of-fact about it. Pat appreciated that.

“Mr. Malone, do you drink?” Dr. Hoo asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Do you drink a lot?”

“Yes. Too much.”

“Okay. Every day, including today?”

“Yes.”

“You appear to be in withdrawal right now, do you realize that?”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you have to stop.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Especially with the early onset of multiple sclerosis.”