9.아홉 (ahop)

    We all go through life like bullets. Doing damage to ourselves, to other people. The problem is trying to figure out how to control the damage we’ve done, or that’s been done to us. Sometimes the damage catches us by surprise. Sometimes we think we can fix the damage. And sometimes the damage is something we can’t even see. We’re all damaged, we all deal with the same kind of demons only on a different kind of level.    "That's the good news, though. Finding a donator, who matches your father's body, without having a high percentage of a rejection reaction is quite difficult and we may not be able to find a match within the short amount of time we get. But, I'm afraid we couldn't do much for your mother. Despite the airbag, her head crashed with the windshield. We managed to pull out most of, but it caused a brain haemorrhage. She's in coma."   Mark felt like he was on a train that’s going two hundred miles an hour, which would be so nice to get off. Just down on the platform, just for a minute, for a second.    Just when he thought he had figured things out, the universe throws a curveball.    His eyes have frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. The fire in his eyes has been drowned with ice water.    He didn't even realised he had been digging his fingertips into the skin of his arm until the dark red blood makes its way out his body. Oozing between the space between his fingers, while his skin took on the pallor of a corpse.    The only thing he felt was pain and it hit him like a bullet.    "C-Can I donate my kidney? Is that possible?", he whispered. His stomach felt sick. He was exhausted, but there was no way to sleep.    "No, you can't. You brother has the same blood type as your father, A. We already requested your medical file in Korea. Our research has proven that you have blood type B. Both are not compatible."    Mark's heart constricted in it's wake as if not sure if it should go on beating. He has had differences with his parents and all of a sudden he felt bad for blaming them. The truth is, he was never able to repay his parents for everything they did for him, for every sanctify they made he took for granted. Mistakes are painful.    "Why is it so important to get him a new kidney?", he asked, carefully. He wasn't sure wet here he wanted the answer or not.    "The main role of the kidneys is to filter waste products from the blood and convert them to urine. If the kidneys lose this ability, waste products can build up, which is potentially dangerous and can be life threatening", the doctor explained and took the seat right next to Mark's.    They were alone in the hospital hallway. There are no hand sanitizers on the walls, how they prevent the spread of germs here he didn't know, perhaps they don't. Perhaps he could catch a disease and everything would work out. There were commercial prints on the wall,   "Is there any other way to compensate this function artificial?", he closed his eyes and prayed.   "It is possible to partially replicate the functions of the kidney using a blood filtering procedure known as dialysis", the doctor begun.   Hope is drawn to the person who sees beyond the present defeat, beyond the moment of being cast down, beyond the loss. Clear eyes, a full heart.    After a while the surgeon continued. "but this can be both inconvenient and time-consuming so a kidney transplant is the treatment of choice for kidney failure whenever possible."    The doctor had the posture of a soldier. Every action he took was precise and purposeful. He smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. Mark needs genuine people now, someone, who didn't fake a smile.    Instantly he grabbed his phone.    His contact list was filled with so many numbers, people he got to know through reality shows, backstage or old classmates.    He has friends, he wasn't completely alone. His mobile possessed a whole contact list. Someone, perhaps two, would be willing to donate his father the kidney.    He was desperate.    "I'll find someone. I'm going to bring some donator within the next twenty four hours and then we can do the transplantation."   The wall clock ticks like the timer on a bomb. His head becomes a little giddy and his stomach nauseous. All he can do is wait on this plastic chair - wait for divine intervention. He is like a cow being herded into a truck for the slaughter house, only the cow doesn't know where it's going and he does.    "It isn't that easy. The person, who is willing to transplant the kindly has to be willing to complete with the recomme