Fifty-Four
Health
Books. Jin needed more books. No, scratch that. He needed more knowledge. How was he supposed to cure a disease he had never seen before?
"Jin…you're wearing yourself out," Molly said, reaching out as Jin passed the bed, nose buried in yet another medical textbook. "Please, just sit down."
"I can't stop, Molly. I can't. If I do, then…" he didn't want to admit what giving up his search would mean. Because if he just gave up, and waited for Molly to get worse, then…
"Then you'll finally get a good night's sleep. You haven't slept properly in ages. Eons. You're running on coffee and some vague hope that you'll find a cure for this obscure disease!"
"Don't say that!" he pleaded, looking over at his aging wife. "Don't say that; there's a cure somewhere! I just haven't been searching hard enough!" Molly rolled her eyes, and caught his sleeve.
"Sit. Now." Jin was reluctant to obey his wife's command, but the look she shot him made his think otherwise. "Listen to me; I'm old! I'm nearly 80! I'm dying! Why is that so hard to accept!"
"You're not dying-"
"I can barely stand without fainting. I'm almost completely incapacitated. I'm on nearly a million types of pills. I'm dying." No matter the casual, sarcastic tone Molly took when addressing her own morality, Jin could never be that blasé about her health. It wasn't merely because he was a doctor; he loved her more than he loved his own life. To hear her talk about death so lightly was absolutely ripping him apart. "Jin, don't cry," she said, noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm not sad, you shouldn't be either."
"That doesn't make things any better."
