Born To Heal You (MilkCiize)

BTHY - 7 🥛🎀

Panly Vosbein is her real name. Milk Pansa was the alias used to conceal her identity. Most of the information I found was about her wealth and assets, which I don't care about. What I needed most were the details of her health condition, though there was less information than I had hoped. As I suspected, she suffers from a rare, unnamed illness they call 'eternal dreamer.' It's an inborn disease, so rare that they've practically named it after her. While it doesn't explicitly state that it's incurable, it's simply that the cure hasn't been discovered or developed yet. The disease seems to affect her brain, like a loose screw shutting her down. Her former physician passed away, and that's when her condition began to worsen.

All her medical reports are hardly useful. They seem to be filled with half-hearted hypotheses from people who didn't care enough to truly focus on her recovery. Everyone has already given up on her—but not me. No, never.

I still have the mysterious syringe with a high dosage that was meant to end her life, but instead, it somehow improved her condition. Using a microscope and some basic lab equipment, I examined it thoroughly. I was lucky enough to determine its chemical contents, but the dosage will be trial and error. It's risky. I've seen its side effects, and they cause her immense discomfort, to the point where she looks like she's dying. So, I have to be extremely careful, or she could end up in a worse state.

Whenever I give her my self-made medications, I notice she seems to want to be held, as if she craves physical comfort. It's like she's distressed both physically and psychologically, but when I hold her, she calms down, almost like a child seeking reassurance. Sometimes, singing to her helps, too. It's as if this tall, fierce woman just wants to be cradled like a baby.

I've been working hard, and she's been trying her best to stay out of trouble. Everything seemed fine until one evening, a storm hit and shook our peaceful home. Rain began to pour, and the roof started to leak. I made a makeshift plastic covering, like a curtain, to protect her bed, but it didn't do much. The small room started flooding, and it felt like it was raining inside the house. I panicked, worrying about her machines and whether she would get soaked. I didn't even notice that my work laptop was now submerged in water. I only cared about Milk.

I immediately protected the portable battery that was powering her breathing apparatus, and wrapped my dear patient in a dry blanket. It may sound silly, but I held an umbrella over us, hoping to keep her dry and safe from the storm raging inside our fragile home.

We were in such a pitiful state that even someone as strong as me shed tears. I felt utterly helpless, unable to provide Milk with the proper care she deserved. I promised myself I would work even harder to get her out of this unfortunate situation.

After the storm passed, I dried her off. She looked like a drenched puppy, and it broke my heart so much that I couldn't stop crying. My poor patient was unaware of the terrible storm, and yet she never made me feel like she was a burden. In fact, she didn't even get a fever. I was so relieved and proud of her. She's such a fighter, my strong patient.

"I hope you wake up soon, Milk. That's my dearest prayer, always. Please get well for me. Make your doctor proud."

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Just as I was about to leave and get my drenched laptop repaired, a friend came by to visit me at home.