Fist bump

Today I looked after a friendly crack head.

He was discovered in his hostel room, skin tinged blue, short of breath and brought in by paramedics.

I saw him shortly after his last hit, uttering incoherent rubbish. I initially had to walk away because of challenging behaviour.

Eventually he came down – surprisingly pleasantly – preoccupying himself with a scratch card and general banter with neighbouring patients.

Concerned he maybe overbearing to the other patients, I walked over when he raised his hand and said “Sorry for being a twat earlier, I wasn’t my self doc“.

Then he looked at me sincerely, poised for a fist bump, and I bumped his fist.

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