My eyes flutter open in response to the rays of light that permeate through the window curtains to my left. The morning light only accentuates the naturally blinding environment that comes with your average white, sterilized hospital room. I squint, shutting out the blistering glares that seem to encompass my very being. Shielding my vision with my hand, I gaze at the small calendar that sits longingly on my bedside table, as if reflecting the longing that I've felt for the past months. Grabbing the marker that was sitting next to it, I crossed another mark over one of the multiple boxes that adorned the page. A habit I started about two months ago, when I was given the humble calendar as a present.
I was just your normal kid. I didn't partake in any club activities, so I spent most of my time studying. I had recently found a hobby in playing tennis, but felt no desire to join the school's team. Organized sports teams were never my thing. It was a particularly busy day; with finals starting the very next day. Studying just gave me feelings of anxiety and exhaustion, so I decided to shirk my scholarly responsibilities and relieve some stress at the nearby tennis court. I don't remember much of what happened after that. All I remember is the blistering pain in my chest as I collapsed onto the cement ground.
Not many teenagers experience a heart attack.
Not many teenagers experience a doctor telling them they have a severe heart condition.
Not many teenagers have to take daily medication to live.
At first, I was in a stage of denial. My normal life was brutally ripped from me, leaving me as a husk of my former self. I was forced to stay in bed because my heart couldn't handle much of anything physical. I just laid there and watched the days roll by. It took me two months of hospitalization before I grew used to this depressing, melancholic way of living. Once I got used to it, it seemed that my body had done so as well. The doctor said that my body had grown stronger in the past months and that I would be able to leave soon. I was so jaded about my situation that I didn't believe him. Four months later, here I am – crossing out the last day of my imprisonment on the small calendar a nurse bought me.
At the time, this day seemed like a distant dream. An unattainable hope. But now that the day is actually upon me, it felt all the more real as I crossed my final mark over the last blank box of November. I set the calendar back to its original resting place. I stretch, attempting to relieve myself of all the morning cramps, and shuffle out of the room. The fluorescent lights do nothing to comfort my adjusting eyes as I'm forced to stagger through the hall with only having a clue as to where I was.
Normally, if someone in patient garb is walking through the halls in a blind stupor, he gets escorted back to his room. Apparently, I'm an exception to this rule. Perhaps it's because my hospitalization isn't due to some mental instability or perhaps it's my relatively young age. For whatever reason, I've been granted special permission to roam the hospital as long as I didn't exhaust myself. I guess they trust me to not try anything irrational or stupid. Special treatment like this would probably be frowned upon, but my dad has connections with the hospital's main administrator. I mean, it's not like I can do much. Whenever I leave my room, it's only to visit the library.
I call it a library, only because I don't know any other way of describing it. It's just a storeroom of books that are kept for the patients' use, since you can't do much when you're stuck in bed. You normally ask a nurse to pick one out for you, but, once again, I've got special privileges. Before my accident, I never really read books for fun. I only read them for school assignments and research. But because of my prolonged stay at the hospital, I grew an affinity for light novels. Yesterday, one of the nurses said I could take one of the books from the library with me as celebration for my release. So I intend to take her up on that offer. A few of the hospital staff greet me as I make my way to the small storeroom; going about their daily schedules.
What's going to happen today?
Will I really be released?
Or is it all too good to be true…
I shake my head, dispelling all negative thoughts. Worrying won't change anything, so I should just stop worrying and accept whatever happens. That's the attitude I'd adopted throughout my stay at this establishment. When you're stuck in a bed for the entire day because you might just keel over and die, you learn that your life isn't always in your hands.
I pick out a book that I've been eyeing for a while now, but never got to reading. I'd found it by accident after knocking down a whole row of books in one fell swoop. Inconspicuously hiding behind this row was a small book with an unassuming white cover. The title read, The Girl Who Loved Winter, and offered no words besides that. Besides the cover, the rest of the book was completely blank – even the spine. Not a single quote, review, or brief summary on the back cover either. I was perplexed, but at the time I was currently engrossed in a tale of dragons and castles, so I left it where it was. I had all but forgotten about it until now, and if there's one book I'm keeping, it'll be that one.
I pull a few books off the shelf to uncover my hiding souvenir. It looks like a brief read, but I'm still curious as to what it's about. After returning to my room, I stuff it in a knapsack along with the remainder of my medication. As soon as I zip the bag closed, the doctor enters.
"Good to see you're up, Roxas." He remarks with his trained, empathetic voice. "I trust you're aware of what's happening today?"
"Yeah. I'm leaving, right?" I'm still a bit dubious as to whether or not this is really happening. My brain doesn't know whether I should be excited, depressed, jaded, or happy. He laughs at my suspecting tone of voice.
"Don't worry. Today is your last day here." He gives me a refreshing smile before flipping through the papers on his clipboard. "However, there are a few things we have to address before we can let you leave. First, above all else…"
The doctor purses his lips and breaks eye contact with me. While this could indicate many things, I know what he's hesitant about saying. So, in order to quicken my release, I speak for him.
"I'm aware my parents aren't here." He looks back at me with slightly widened eyes before adjusting his glasses.
"Yes, that is the first thing I'd like to address. Both your father and your mother offer you their apologies and best wishes from Radiant Garden. It appears that they were called for important business." I let out an exasperated sigh without thinking. I don't know why I feel disappointed – I knew this would happen. My parents are busy people that live busy lives that require them to be away from their bedridden son. The last time I was visited by them – no, anyone I knew before the accident was three months ago. I should be past caring whether or not they're here.
The doctor drones on and on about things that I should probably care about, but I kind of just want to leave. From what my brain distinguished as "important", I get the picture. I'll be transferring from my old school to a new high school that's close by the hospital – Tasogare Academy. This way, if I get another heart attack, I won't be far from help. Since my parents are currently busy in Radiant Garden, which is a long gummi ship ride away, I'll be living in the school's dorms under slight medical surveillance. Apparently, the teachers have already been notified about my "condition" and have been trained accordingly.
He finishes his briefing as professionally as he began – to the point of not actually being informative and just depressing me. If I have to go to a new school, I don't want to be treated like a charity case. I don't need people walking on eggshells around me. Hopefully, it's just the teachers that know.
"Is that it?" I ask, on the verge of falling asleep.
"Hm, well that's the last thing I've written…" he taps his lower lip with his pen thoughtfully. "Well, there's actually one more thing." His voice suddenly transforms from his normal callous, professional tone to a more empathetic one. "Not as a doctor to his patient, but on a more personal basis. You have to be careful."
"Uh… okay?" Isn't that a given? I'm not exactly sure what he means. Obviously I'll be careful…
The doctor notices the confusion that's probably littered across my face. "I mean… don't overexert yourself. To strengthen your heart and your body, you must exercise – yet you must know your limits."
"News to me. Won't doing physical stuff just endanger me?" From what I heard about my condition, too much physical or emotional stress could prove fatal to me. The doctor purses his lips and averts eye contact once more.
"Well… let's just say…" he hesitates, lets out an exasperated sigh, and stares at me with callous eyes. "If you don't exercise and strengthen yourself, you won't live for much longer."
"… I see." In my six months of imprisonment here in this establishment, the thought of me dying never once crossed my mind. With the doctor's words, the gravity of my whole situation hit me like a sack of bricks.
If I do something stupid, I could die. My heart could literally implode inside my chest. I feel my heartbeat nervously, as if checking to see if it sounds normal.
"It's not something you should worry about too much, Roxas." That statement sounds paradoxical to the previous one referring to my untimely death. "Just do some light exercise and take your meds every morning." His reassurances fall on deaf ears as my mind wanders through the worst possible scenarios. When faced with the possibility of death, I'd rather just stay in bed.
"Yeah… I got it…" I murmur a response as I size up my situation. It seems that everything is already set up for me, so there's no way I can back out of this. I guess my situation is so imperative that they had to take me from my old school. Not like I miss any of them. I've long since forgotten about my old classmates after I received one letter from the entire class. A few friends showed up a week after my accident, but the inflow of companionship and sympathy quickly ended. Perhaps there was someone who, deep down in their heart, really worried about me. But as far as I can tell, that's just wishful thinking - which is a shame, because I can think of someone that should have been there for me, or rather, I was expecting to be there with me.
But I guess that shows how much I know.
I cast away those nostalgic feelings of loneliness in order to stay in the present. After all, that's all that matters. Loitering in past issues will leave me ill-prepared for today's tribulations. In a way, I've got a new lease on life. If there's any silver lining to this whole ordeal, it's that I've got a clean new slate. I'm going to a new school with new people, a new environment, and a new place to live…
I guess focusing on the miniscule positives is all I can do at this point.
After all, if I don't, I might just die.