oh doctor

Where does it hurt?
                                                   Everywhere. All over.

Show me.
                                                   No. You know where
                                                   it hurts.
                                                   It began at your
                                                   fingertips, the ends of the
                                                   middle of nothing at all.

Still?
                                                   At night.

That is to be
                                                   expected. I know. I was
                                                   told, but wanted a second
                                                   opinion.

Mine?
                                                   Who else could
                                                   change the diagnosis: terminal.

You will live.
                                                   Easy
                                                   for you to say: asymptomatic
                                                   yet contagious. Once bitten, I
                                                   die.