Close to Heaven

Yellow Walls

When we were called to the next available doctor, he took one look at my floppy arms and legs and repeated the process with the guard. I gave him the same answers. 

That night was strange and painful. I passed out multiple times so I don't remember much. Only the MRI stood out to me. Earplugs were gently pushed into my ears as I was laid down on a scanner table. There were pads under my knees and on either side of my head. 

It was vaguely comfortable, in a cold, offbeat way. The table I was on slowly drifted into the machine. The inside of the MRI scanner was brightly lit with a yellow light. A small mirror was attached to the top of the tube, angled so I could see out of the machine. The doctor said to keep as still as I could and I did. Not that I could do much else.

When the scans were finished, I was transferred to another room. The walls were pastel yellow, and a T.V. was secured to the wall opposing the bed in the room. 

A large window revealed a view of Seoul, the dreary skies drizzling a mist of rain onto the skyscrapers. I was moved to the bed. When the nurse picked me up to move me from the wheelchair to the bed, the pain in my back repeated. 

I gasped and straightened my back, attempting to rid myself of the ache. The nurse tightened her grip on me before carefully laying me in the bed. I felt a sting on my forearm. Looking down, I saw a needle in my arm. The nurse carefully fastened a piece of tape over the needle. 

She began attaching other things to me, but my eyes were droopy and the pain had drained me of any energy. My eyes fell closed and soon, my mind was off in dreamland.

As my eyes eased open, I saw my mother and father. They were sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs at the side of my bed. As soon as my eyes slit open, my parents jumped to my side. 

"You're awake," my mom gushed. "How are you feeling?" my dad followed. "Mom, dad," I croaked. I smiled with my chapped lips and prepared myself to be bombarded with questions. Strangely enough, that wasn't the case. My parents said nothing else, only looked at me with a peculiar look in their eyes. 

My mother suddenly broke down in tears, falling onto my leg where she stood. Her head was down but her shaking shoulders and the occasional choked sob revealed she was crying. "Mom, what's wrong?" I asked, patting her convulsing shoulders. Instead of comforting my mother, my dad looked straight at me. 

"Mi Sun, let's talk to the doctor," he said quietly. "Mom, Dad, you're scaring me. What's going on?" Nothing was adding up, and no one was telling me what was going on. My dad gave my shoulder one last pat and left, to get the doctor I presume. My mother still kneeled at my side, her head down. 

I didn't know what to say because I didn't know what was wrong, so I said nothing.