ENG - Fractured Fates ʰʸᵘⁿˡᶦˣ

2

First of all: I am NOT A DOCTOR!!! Please note this in this chapter and in all the others that follow. I do not know anything about medicine and have no experience in this field! Everything I will write down is FREELY INVENTED by me and should not be taken seriously! (unless you are really ill, then please go to hospital!!)

I do know similar diseases like ALS or GBS, which I have used as a guide for this, BUT it is not the same! Everything I write down will not be based on facts and is far-fetched and fiction... Please keep that in mind! :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"Please lie down on the mat and try to stay as still as possible, okay?" said the friendly nurse with a warm smile as I settled down on the uncomfortable mat. I nodded in agreement and followed her instructions.
This process was so familiar to me by now that it had almost become a monotonous routine. It felt like the hundredth time I had to go into that narrow tube where the MRI images were taken. As I slid into the narrow tube, I felt the oppressive tightness around me that overcame me every time. The machine began its familiar hum and I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the steady rhythm of the sounds.
In the silence, interrupted only by the whirring sounds of the machine, I began to think about all the times I had already lain here. Each time had been a bitter disappointment, as none of the examinations had yielded any positive results. Nevertheless, I endured them out of consideration for my parents, who wanted so much for these examinations to finally provide answers.

As a child, my parents had always dismissed my clumsiness with a loving smile when something slipped out of my hands or I stumbled. But when, at the age of 18, I still had the same problems and my condition worsened, my father, who was not only my father but also an experienced doctor, ordered tests. His medical instinct as a senior physician had not deceived him and he was proved right. I was suffering from a mysterious illness that would sooner or later lead to my death. The doctors couldn't identify it exactly as none of my symptoms corresponded to known diseases.

My body was continuously losing muscle mass, sometimes in spurts, sometimes gradually. My nervous system was also not functioning as it should and was steadily weakening. So if I didn't die of heart or brain failure before then, I would be completely paralyzed before then.
Since then, I have lived with medication that no one knew for sure if it really helped and with monthly check-ups. I had been doing this for over four years. For four years, my parents and I were told every month that my body was getting weaker and weaker and would eventually fail. It was a torture that I endured so as not to cause my parents any more worry.

It will be the same this time.
After half an hour the pictures were ready and another half hour later we sat in the treatment room to discuss the results.
The doctor, a specialist in muscle atrophy and nerve damage, finally began to speak: "I'm sorry," his voice was calm and compassionate, "the medication we tried this time doesn't seem to be working."
I sat between my parents and looked at my hands. This news was nothing new, so I wasn't really disappointed. "It was to be expected," I began and looked at my mother, whose eyes were filling with tears. My heart tightened painfully at the sight of her. "Tell my parents the rest, I have to get back to work," I added and stood up.

I left the room and left my parents with the doctor. I didn't want to see my mother cry because every time there was bad news, she burst into tears and that hurt more than anything.
My parents hadn't given up yet and were constantly looking for new ways or studies to help me. They just weren't ready to let me go, while I had already given up on life myself. I wasn't afraid of dying, everyone dies eventually.

"Felix ready yet?" my work colleague and only friend Jisung asked me when I arrived at reception. I leaned over the counter, exhausted, and put my head in my hands. "Yes, it's the same result as every month," I explained and reached for the file on top. "Could you pass me my gown, please? Then I'll go straight to Ms. Cho," I asked Jisung and leafed through the medical file.
"Are you sure you want to work now?" he asked me anxiously. Jisung looked at me sympathetically as he handed me the gown, which I immediately put on. "I'm fine," I smiled weakly and disappeared.
With the file in my hand, I walked down the corridor, accompanied by the buzzing of the neon lights.

Many people would probably have quit their jobs after my diagnosis and traveled the world or done something completely different.
Of course, that was my first impulse too, but I simply couldn't do it to my parents, not after they had spent so much time, energy and, above all, their hard-earned money on my countless examinations and visits to the doctor. The bills were piling up and there was no mistaking the worry in their eyes. A sense of obligation drove me to be there for them and support them financially, at least to some extent, which is why I wanted to work so badly. My salary as a nurse wasn't exactly lavish, but it was just enough to cover the running costs and occasionally put something aside to give back to my family, which they would receive after my death. It was a symbolic gesture that eased my conscience.

Originally, I never planned to become a nurse. However, fate literally forced me in this direction, as it was the only profession my father would allow me to pursue. This led to numerous discussions between us until he finally gave in, on the condition that I work in the hospital where he himself worked. His reasoning was simple: if anything happened to me, I would be right there in the hospital, and secondly, he would always be close by to look after me.
As the hospital director and my father were close friends, it wasn't difficult to get me this job. In addition, every member of staff at the hospital seemed to know about my situation. Sometimes I even had the feeling that they had received instructions to treat me with kid gloves, which became quite annoying after a while. In my opinion, they all went completely overboard.

But by then I had really learned to love my job, even though it wasn't particularly demanding. My main task was to be there for the patients, spend time with them and carry out occasional check-ups. In exceptional cases, I was even allowed to take blood samples, but that was the limit. They didn't trust me to do more than that for fear that I might lose feeling in my arms or legs at any time and possibly harm the patient.
When I entered my patient's room, the elderly lady immediately greeted me with concern: "Oh, Felix, my boy. Don't you have an examination yourself today? Are you sure you can work? Are you all right?" I approached her with a smile and took a seat in the chair next to her bed.
"I'm fine, Ms. Cho. But what's more important is how you are," I replied politely.

How annoying it was that everyone was worried about me.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰