145 Ji-Hos Story Part One (2/2)

He was right. I did experience symptoms. But why was he asking me this? Was there a problem?

My suspicions grew and eventually, I was brought into a room full of monitors. Placed on the screen were numbers and words I couldn't comprehend. Normally, in these types of meetings, parents would be the ones to talk to the doctors about their children's illness. However, since I didn't have anyone, I was the one that had to bear the news.

In that very place, I had come to learn about my illness.

To summarize, there was something wrong with my cells and they were having a hard time regenerating. Most of the terminology he was using was too complicated for me, even though he tried his best to help me understand the problem. However, even though I didn't know what those words meant, I had the capability to figure out what the doctor's expression and words were saying without it being explicitly said.

For the first time in years, I opened my mouth.

”Am I going to die?”

Even I didn't recognize my own voice. It was high. And squeaky.

The doctor let out a sigh before nodding. ”Let's not put it in harsh terms. Currently, you have a terminal illness. Cellular degeneration is a normal thing for all living things. However, your illness makes it so that your body cannot regenerate the cells that are dying as fast as other people's bodies can. Luckily for you, the hospital has a special program through the government for orphans who need medical care. With the help of our hospital, you will be able to live.”

From the look in his eyes, I knew that he was sugar-coating his words to make it seem like there was hope for me. But still, although there was an initial shock, I did not care. There was nothing that I lived for anyways.

I just nodded.

Perhaps, this mentality was shocking for a eleven year old boy to have but during that time, I had absolutely nothing. I was just living for the sake of living. There was nothing to it.

Luckily, due to the government program for orphaned kids, I was able to get medical help. Although the medical a.s.sistance would end by the time I turned into an adult, I didn't care enough to think that far. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me and that was that. I just followed what the adults told me.

The room I was placed in was shared with five other kids. They were all too loud. And just like before, I didn't speak to them at all.

At first, I liked the hospital. The beds were more comfortable than the orphanage and the food was much tastier. It was clean here too.

But there was a something about the hospital that also caught my heart. This place was different than the school and orphanage.

Every day, parents who cared for their children would come and stay by their sides. I was able to see a new world that I wasn't exposed to at the orphanage.

I saw familial love.

And I also saw people desperate to survive. Parents who prayed everyday for their children to get better.

While I didn't care about whether or not I pa.s.sed away, there was people who were desperate to live every extra second. Parents who would sacrifice everything for their children to survive.

It was painful to watch. But I didn't say a word.

I was going to die anyways.

Everything changed when I came to a dark realization.

While staying at the hospital, there was a large difference in my lifestyle. Since I wasn't allowed to attend school, I was learning through an online cla.s.s. I wasn't allowed to live the life of a normal student anymore. When I would try to go outside, there would always be a nurse to accompany me. I also wasn't allowed to go past the hospital boundaries. To explain in a few words: I was trapped in here.

I missed freedom. The choice to life the way I wanted. Even if I hadn't interacted with anyone, the freedom I was given and the opportunity of hope presented to me was a blessing. Even if I didn't care, I still had those options.

I had a choice.

Now, my only choice was to stay at the hospital and wait for my death.

The only route that my life could take is to die.

However, even with these emotions piled up within me, there was n.o.body to tell my feelings to. By this time, it was too late, I had already forgotten how to talk to people. Although I observed how people spoke and could read their expressions easily, my social skills lacked. I became afraid to talk to people.

But, at the bottom of my heart, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, n.o.body would care about my death. Even though the nurses sent me smiles, I knew that their kindness was only a part of their job.

Friends? Please. The only people I ever got to interact with were my roomates. And there was no point in making friends with them. Ultimately, the kids in the hospital would pa.s.s away just like me. There was no hope.

And family? An even more absurd thought.

I had none.

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