This diary belongs to Lee Seunghyun

Page: 11

8-August-2021

If I say I feel blessed by this, am I being too presumptuous? Though this is coming from my sometimes mistaken mind: I do feel blessed. It is one amusing thing, how things now glisten with a different kind of light. They are there: my patients, the ward, the neat blankets over the beds, the nurse’s faces, the antiseptic smell, all of them are there; still they are different and they are captivating.

They hypnotise me, every time our fingers are interlaced. When he stares at me with his warm gaze, or when I lean my tired head over his chest. It changes everything, as though I could see the world through his own eyes: his always calm, undisturbed world.

“When are you going to tell me about your... about your childhood?” he asked me raising his gaze from the notebook in front of him, while he ran his fingers gently over my hair. It was one of those many nights I spent next to him, leaning my head over his lap and watching him writing and biting his lips, enclosed in his own ideas. To me, it was a precious sight.

I shut my eyes in desperation. I didn’t want him to know those things, but I couldn’t hide them anymore. I wanted to be sincere, honest, to introduce my own world to him. But it was difficult, that precise moment was for sure one of the hardest moments in my life: Should I or should I not?

“Seungri, if you can’t yet it’s ok, really, it’s ok,” he assured, with a hint of worrisome constrained on his voice almost like an apology.

“No, it’s ok Ji,” I said, lifting my head from the comfort of his lap and supporting my weight over one of my hands, straightening my body over the sofa. I opened my eyes, staring directly at him. “It’s ok,” I repeated, dropping one of my hands over one of his arms comforting him. He followed each one of my movements with his eyes, silently concerned.

“I loved my parents, my family and my childhood. I have good memories about those times. There was no drama, no tragedies. I can say I was really happy. My parents were doctors, so I guess since then my future was more or less evident. I remember when my dad used to give me his Medical Atlas or Medical Glossaries. They were this big,” I beckoned with my hands and smiled at the thought of those medical bibles, showing Jiyong my childish antics. “I used to read them and memorize strange words, and the more I could remember, even if didn’t actually have any idea what they meant, the more proud my dad was of me. Always smiling; my dad was a dreamer too.”

I took a deep breath before continuing telling him how my parents used to carry me wherever they went. How I was kind of famous on their hospital and with the rest of their fellow doctors. How I, since then, started to develop a feeling of admiration towards this profession, the profession I thought was about  being a warrior on the battlefield of life.

“I grew up with an strong desire to become a doctor too, I wanted to help people and to smile as my parents used to, to save lives. So I entered Medical School. But just months after I started college, my dad began to have some pulmonary problems. At first I thought it wasn’t something I should worry about, until he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. But even then, I was faithful of medicine as same as my mother, we both were sure he was going to be ok. And so, I saw them, both of them, fading away and crumbling slowly. One because of illness, the other one because of tiresome frustration, their life seeping away because of deep sadness.”

I stopped myself, feeling how the tears started to blur my vision. Jiyong was staring at me, with sympathy and worst, with pain.

“You don’t have to do this,” he told me, placing one hand over my cheek, his soft touch melting away my fears and insecurity. But I shook my head, continuing.

“It took me two years to realize I had placed delusional expectations over this profession. It took me two years to face the real cruelty of death and illness. My father died that year and my mother followed him one year later, it was too much for her. And I was left there, studying a career that only brought me strange feelings, with my mind confused, and with my heart destroyed. I know they didn’t mean to leave me that way and I love them, I miss them. But it was hard, I was too young and too inexpert, and I didn’t know what to even think, what to do, whom to blame. I was doubtful about everything.”

“What made you continue?” Jiyong asked, searching for my eyes.

“I still don’t know,” I answered, looking at my hands ashamed. “I’m probably pathetic, I’m a doctor that fears death and hates illness. Isn’t it pathetically ironic?” I said with a crumbling voice, allowing those always hidden tears roll over my cheeks. “I’m pathetic.”

“Of course you are not.” He exclaimed, approaching to me, stretching his hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. “That doesn’t make you pathetic, it only makes you human. You fear death because you know life is worth the fight. How can you call that pathetic? That’s wiser, wiser than you think.”

I stared at him and how he caressed my face with his hands, how he smoothly wiped my tears. How he smiled at me, unaware of the strong faith he was building everyday slowly inside my heart.

“Ji, don’t leave me. Please. Stay with me.” I begged him. And I know I should not ask him things like that. I know he has no control over those things. But still, I don’t want to say goodbye anymore. I want him to survive; I want to believe, this time, I can trust on everything to be ok.

But I made him cry with my shameful needs, my painful begging; I made him cry in desperation. And I felt dirty, a strong knot of guilt began to tighten itself in the hidden depths of my being. I felt as if I was asking him for too much.

Youngbae unexpectedly visited me one of these last days too. Dressed in the weirdest of clothes: a wide black sweatshirt that covered his knees, leather pants, a pair of colorful sneakers and a flipped black cap covering his hair. He entered into my office with saddened, pleading eyes.

He sat in front of me, moving his hands constantly and in silence, as if he was searching for the right words to say something. After a while he raised his eyes to where I was and murmured a strained:

Please, don’t be so cruel

His teary eyes fixed on me; those eyes tortured by the desire to protect his little brother. He told me, between sobs, that Jiyong has always been a dreamer, someone with too many dreams, an idealistic person; that he possessed a mind that enjoyed creating and expecting the impossible.

“Don’t be so cruel. Stop giving him futile and unrealistic hopes. I know him, I can see it in his eyes and in the way he acts. He believes in you; he believes he is going to live. Please. Stop it. I beg you,” he said breaking into pieces in front of me, covering his face with his hands, trying to hold himself together despite the shards of sanity that cracked.

“I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but stop it. He now talks about you, he smiles and he tells me about all the places he is going to visit with you as soon as he is out from here. What am I supposed to do? Ah! You tell me! WHAT? I can’t tell him to stop; I want him to be happy. But not this way, this is cruel… you know that,” he said, again looking and pointing at me in agony. “It’s just cruel.”

I asked him to leave, I shouted at him to leave. The truth is, his words are painful but real, but I don’t want to accept them, I cannot. I shouted him that those were not futile nor unrealistic promises. That I was going to keep my promise. That he was going to live. That I was going to fight for it.

But he only looked at me with despair filled sorrow. He turned around to face me and murmured “The problem is both of you are dreamers, and dreams have never saved anyone.” Before he left, in a heartbroken pace, his heavy steps, his slightly slouched shoulders, the clothes upon his body seemed to melt in to the surroundings draining its colour.

Is it true? Are we dreamers? Are we asking for too much? Am I being cruel by holding his hand with strength, by assuring him that darkness will not envelope him? And… who am I cruel to: him or myself?

I will keep my promise, that’s for sure. But this is hurting me; this is more painful than I ever thought, for both of us.

Lee SH

Hi!! New Chapter... My best wishes for all of you ^.^