I go over to Derek's house, worried, because he had called and asked me to come over and I knew he was in trouble. I get to the door and it has been kicked around so that it is in three thin sheets. I get in and see papers and stuff strewn all around. He'd been throwing and breaking things. I say, "Hello." He calls out, "Here." He's in the bedroom. I go down the hall and go into the bedroom. Instead of a regular bed, he is wrapped up in a wet suit material like sack. He's plugged into a sort of bathtub bed. His face is entirely covered with a blue plated mask. I can see an eye peek out and a bit of his tousled hair. He is writhing in pain and sadness. I sit down on the foam, wet sack, and try to stroke him to help calm him. I haven't a clue what part I'm touching, maybe below the break where he can't feel it, or up on his chest. I soothe him and tousle his hair a bit as he wiggles and squirms around, groaning. He lightly kisses me back, near my breasts, and is trying to acknowledge my presence. It is hard for him. I am wearing a pair of shorts, dark blue, and a summer blouse. Sometimes I am naked. It is semi-sexy and very intimate, but the purpose is to assist him through this bad time. He tries to put more warm water into the sack he's in and I feel the coolness leave the sack and it is warm. Then he unplugs his catheter bag down by his feet, which is plugged into the tub drain.