For the past few months, I haven't been allowed to go outside. It started ever since I was diagnosed of prestucalar disease. It's a disease that appears one in a million people so medication is still undersearch because of its rareness. For now, the only thing they know about prestucalar is that the patient is sensitive to light. If I stay too long under the sun then my veins will swell until it ruptures. That's why my windows are tinted. Other than that, my immune system is weak so it's best I do not go outside.
Life was good. I used to play in the lacrosse team and had hookups here and there. My grades were barely above average but my lacrosse skills were good that I was offered a scholarship in college. Not until last May when I wanted to donate a blood so they took me for a blood test first. And that was when they found that my blood has prestucalar cells in the plasma, whatever that means. At first, we didn't pay attention to it since I wasn't feeling any symptoms. Not until my 18th birthday when my nose bled while they were singing Happy Birthday to me, then followed by a couple of combulsions for the next few months.
Ran another blood test and there found that the prestucalar cells were increasing which causes my immune system to weaken and blablabla. Listening to the doctor, I suddenly spaced out from all his talks. What was the use of listening tho when it ended with a, "There's no medication for prestucalar yet but if you let us, we could put your son under investigation for the study of the disease. He may be able to help future cases."
As far as I know, that is just some fascinating words of being a guinea pig given experimental medications. I don't mind because it means free medicines, not a cent spent! (Not sure if it would heal me tho) And that's better than getting no medications. I don't really care. The bottomline is I'm getting weaker, I miss going to beaches and eyeing girls in bikinis, and I'm going to die sooner than my grandparents. Which sucks to think because my grandparents are not allowed to visit me, for some medical reasons.
Anyway, I have come to accept the fact that my days are counted although the doctors didn't say a thing about my time. Neither about my improvements, if there really is. So maybe it means, I got five weeks? Oh damn, what if hours?
That's why I always make sure I look good at all times since I do not know when will be my last breath. I remember overhearing that I may have another combulsion and be dropdead dead after that. My way of death is honestly better compared to getting tortured: have my nails removed using pliers, my mouth staplered together, and my hands nailed.
"Alexander, dear, what's with the look?" Nurse Mendoza asks as she stopped pushing the tray with syringes of different sizes.
"What look?" I glanced at myself in the mirror.
"What's in your mind?"
Me getting tortured.
"Nah, I'm just bummed why my movie time was reduced to one hour. I mean, most movies are over one hour. It sucks I have to wait for the next day to finish one movie."
She prepares my first shot. The bottle where she gets the liquid for the syringes are unlabeled so who knows they're actually giving me pet meds?
She raises an eyebrow at me. "We're reducing your exposure to radiation. Any other concerns?"
"Do you guys know I haven't had a boner for two months? Maybe it has something to do with prestucalar."
Nurse Mendoza's face turned from smiley to worried. "We didn't look at that angle. You should be m---"
I cut her off with a laugh. "Damn, I was just kidding."
"Really tho?" She puts a hand on her waist and gave me an expression, telling me to stop playing around.
"It was a joke."
As she left the room, I went on with my routine. To give you a picture, I am stucked in a room filled with stuffs to entertain me. I used to never thought of playing a musical instrument, but then boredom stroke me like Pikachu's thunderbolt that I now play guitar. On the other corner I have painting materials and a canvas with blue paint. Well, I was trying to paint an ocean but I don't know how so it just ended me wasting paint, stroking the brush for each second I spend my mind away from my body. I have a scrabble board which kinda makes me sad to look at, since I don't have anyone to play with. And my camera is resting on the coffee table. Haven't used it for months.
They gave me a bookshelf full of books for me to read but I'm not the type to read. I open a few sometimes only to look at pictures then just return it because it makes me miss school.
I don't know what to do. It's that thing when I stay awake at night when the world is asleep and I thought, "What's even the point?" I can't see the stars because the windows are tinted. As old as I am and deprived from seeing the stars, I wish to the nonexistent falling star, that this is just a dream and I wake up to my depressing alarm clock and hopped onto the dining chair where my mom had my cereal served right in front of me.
I miss sneaking alcohol to the prom and dancing with random girls because I was too unloyal to ask someone out to the dance. Laughing with my friends along with their dates never felt a loss to me because I don't mind not having a small waist to wrap my arms around anyway. All those things that I used to do are a memory to me now, and I don't which is sadder: that I have this rare disease or I can't go out.
A knock came to the door which sent the things I was reminiscing flying away. I didn't answer but the door opened anyway, revealing a girl around my age. She has a small faced framed with a short black hair, and she is wearing a shy smile.
"Hi," she says. I could tell she is nervous the way her grip to the door knob tightens. She closed the door and sat to the couch. "I'm Christelle."
"You look familiar?" It came out as a question as I rack through my brain, looking for a CD that I could play in my mind to confirm that we had met before.
"Science class, middle school."
"Oh, right." She had a long hair before and was kinda freckly. Now her face doesn't have any trace of a single freckle. "I think it's really weird that you're here considering that we are not really friends?"
"My blood type is O+, that's why."
"Which doesn't explain a thing."
"People with O+ blood are the only ones allowed to visit you, I thought you already know."
I didn't know.
She added, "They've been looking for someone Type O. As what the notice says that was stuck in front of the hospital for months..." She grabbed a crested paper from her tote bag and read it, "Alexander Harrison, 18 year old, diagnosed with a rare disease called Pestucalar Disease has been isolated for months. We are looking for someone with a blood type of O to hang out with our patient for medical research purposes. Assured that the disease is non-contagious."
She went on reading the paper but I blocked her voice out. Honestly, that is the most stupid thing I heard. More stupid than that guy in my Bio class who explained about hibernation when he was asked how cactus adapts to hot environments.
As she finished reading, she returned the paper to her bag and sighed. "So, wanna be friends?"
credits to google for the images
