Winter Days

Wintry days have always been a sort of weaving between stillness and cold to Youngjae. Grave whispers are threaded through the harsh wind, they which Youngjae has come to take as warnings. Winter has a heart as cold as it is, rarely sparing the weak who deteriorate in the season. Youngjae knows this first-hand by the rising amount of patients he sees in the hospital during winter.

Working as a nurse is more daunting than he had expected, Youngjae admits. He’s never been particularly bright but his passion still pushed him to pursue a career in the medical field. Since young, he’s had a heart for taking care of others. If he can’t save lives, he can at least assist those that can. But working in a hospital can be rather toll taking at times, especially when patients leave the hospital. It’s not always good news, and such a situation constantly teeters on a string between happiness and despondency. Youngjae has heard more sobbing than cheering of relatives, and it’s hard to deny how agonising it feels.

There is no time to be swayed by emotions, however. Every second counts here on a war field against diseases and wounds. They’ve left behind those they couldn’t save for those they could, and this endless battle against death and loss is one Youngjae will never back out of.

“Youngjae!” His colleague Sunhwa scurries up to him, handing him a stack of papers. “Dr. Kim needs me; can you take over for me?” She gesticulates briefly at the line of blood donors waiting in the other room.

Youngjae nods and the nurse rushes off. There’s a long trail of donors, igniting a spark of warmth in the Youngjae's heart. He flips through their profiles, scanning through each recent history. Generally, the nurses are allowed skim through them since donors are screened and briefed on safety precautions. Youngjae’s always been more cautious than instructed to be, and it pays off as he reaches the last page.

The donor’s record glares him in the face as Youngjae’s eyes widen. This man has been here repeatedly with barely a few days interval between each blood donation. He’s not in the queue, however, Youngjae realizes before he lands his gaze on a dishevelled man by the benches. He’s kneeling before a scruffy boy who is kneading his stomach lightly.

The man murmurs something and flashes a grin, squeezing the boy’s hand. Youngjae stops him halfway as he heads to the queue.

“Mr. Jung...?” Youngjae starts. The gaunt man shrinks back into his torn coat, blinking back at the nurse. Youngjae purses his lips at the assaulting stench rooting from Daehyun.

“Mr. Jung, you’ve been making far too many blood donations over the course of two weeks,” Youngjae says while scrutinising his clipboard.

“You need at least seven weeks interval between each donation,” Youngjae states as he stares at Daehyun, perturbed.

“I-” Daehyun stops short, darting his eyes around furtively. “It’s been…seven weeks already.”

“Mr. Jung, according to our records, your last visit was just one week ago.”

Daehyun glances back at the boy crumpled against his seat. He folds his lips and murmurs, “Seven weeks is too long, don’t you think?”

“It’s a necessary safety precaution,” Youngjae provides as he follows Daehyun’s gaze back to the thin boy. The nurse exhales softly as the both of them stand in silence together. He can make a good guess why Daehyun’s been making so many trips here, especially from his tattered clothes. Every donor receives a bottle of mineral water and a packet of biscuits, something Youngjae can easily assume Daehyun needs.

“Wait here,” Youngjae says and rushes to the storage room. He carries out a box, b with bottles and biscuit packets, and passes it to Daehyun.

“Here, take this. It's not much, but please don’t do this again; you’ll hurt yourself.”

Daehyun stares at the nurse, mouth agape. He’s about to say something when a voice calls out.

“Youngjae!”

“Coming,” Youngjae yells back. He flashes Daehyun a small smile, urging him silently with his eyes, and darts off.