a memo

Chapter 70

I got off the elevator to pay the fare, and went up again to have my blood drawn.

My legs were getting more and more painful, and I was starting to go numb, and my mind was full of images: I was lying in the corridor of the hospital, and I was dragged into the ICU ward after being found. (Sorry, I have watched too many brainless soap operas, which makes me often fantasize.)
The fact is that my vitality is tenacious, and when it was my turn to draw blood, I did not pass out.

The nurse who took the blood looked at me: "Is the kid alone? Didn't you come with your parents?"

kid?I am a sophomore in high school who is almost an adult and call me a kid?
I sometimes hate my slightly childish appearance, which makes me look immature in many things.

"Well, alone." I stretched my arms over and looked away.

A grandma passed by with her grandson in her arms, and the grandson was crying. The grandma said to her precious grandson: "Have you seen that sister? If you don't obey, you will be dragged to have blood drawn like her."

It may be that the atmosphere in the hospital is very bad, it may be that my calf is getting more and more painful and I am in a bad mood, or it may be that the nurses are not skilled enough, and the first injection was unsuccessful. In short, when I heard what grandma said , I burst into tears.

What does it feel like to hear these words, as if I am a beggar living on the street, and the adults passing by teach their children: "You have to study hard, or you will be like her."

When the nurse saw me crying, she kept silent, maybe because she sympathized with me without my parents, or maybe because she didn't think it was necessary to cry every time I drew blood.

"Wait for half an hour and go downstairs to the lobby to scan the QR code and pick up the report." The nurse pressed the needle port with alcohol cotton.

So I sat back to the original position, staring at the floor in a daze, patients were still coming and going around, but I couldn't observe their likes and dislikes like before, because I was also sick.

When the blood test report came out and I went upstairs to find my attending doctor, the hospital was closed, the light yellow door was locked, and there was no one in the waiting area.

What a depression.

I finally understand the loneliness of seeing a doctor alone, it's like falling into a sea full of sadness, and the sea swallows all my positivity.

Back in my community, my mother was already waiting for me at the door of the clinic: "Show the doctor the blood test report, how is the leg, does it hurt?"

"It's okay." I walked into the clinic with my head down. I was sad enough, and I didn't want to bring such emotions to others.

"Hmm...it's erysipelas." The uncle at the clinic looked at it and said, "I need to hang it with salt water for a week and apply some medicine externally, starting from today."

I sat on a chair in the clinic, and it didn't feel much different from a hospital chair.

The uncle applied a bunch of yellow ointment to me, and tied it with gauze, looking very professional.

Followed by intravenous drip.

"Do you want the left hand or the right hand?" The uncle hung up the salt water bag, exposing the pinhole.

Last time I saw a pinhole was a blood draw an hour ago.

"Left hand, the back is also left-handed." I raised my left hand and put it on the handle of the chair.

There are two kinds of loneliness when a person is sick, one is the discomfort caused by the illness, and the other is the depression of mood, and I account for them all.

Because it is the summer vacation of the second year of high school, many courses were delayed due to the epidemic in the second semester of the second year of high school, so there are more homework assignments, and sometimes online classes are required, otherwise it will affect the progress of the third year of high school.

Sadness belongs to sadness, and sadness has no right not to do homework.I complained about my leg poisoning in the dormitory group, and all my roommates came to greet me.

As a result, that night, I suddenly felt nothing. Wasn’t it just a poison, wasn’t it just lifting my legs to do my homework every day, wasn’t it just hanging a few bottles of water.

Young people are always so easy to think about.

The potion for a week is hung on the left hand, because the right hand is used to write dreams.

　A little suggestion, it is better not to see a doctor alone.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)