This is your kidney speaking. I know we haven't communicated in awhile, what with you being all busy at work and stuff, but I've been trying to send messages your way that I haven't been feeling too good. I'm glad that somebody finally forced you to go to the doctor to get me all fixed up, because I was thisclose to just giving up and is this the way we really wanted to go anyways? I hope you realize now that people care about you and that if you did die all alone in your apartment, it wouldn't be weeks until someone found your dessicated corpse. (More like days, I'm sure.) Please take care of me, and let me rest for awhile. Sit in bed, watch TV, let your mind rot, not your kidney. Eventually I'll get better and then I'll be back up to the task of filtering out all the crap that you put into your system. Please eat real food, not anything that costs less than a dollar and comes wrapped in a piece of paper. That's dog food, not people food. I have enough problems processing that shit when I'm well, don't make me do it while I am ailing. I realize that you may just think this is the Vicodin speaking, but I really do want you to get better cuz without you, I'm nothing but a bean-shaped piece of organ meat.
Love,
Kidney #1.
(Kidney #2 sends his regards also, and says if you ever fuck him like this, he's going to make it so that you pee like a racehorse for the rest of your miserable life. Luckily, I'm a little more forgiving than him.)
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hit me in the lower back