80 Days of Sunny Rays | | myg

Monday, April 20, 2009

"Nurse Choi, if you could attend to the guest in room nine please," Dr. Rosenthal kindly commands as he walks past the break room.

"Yes, Doctor," I reply with respect. I wait until he is long gone before sighing in frustration. I slowly stand up from the chair I had sat on just seconds before, and head to my office. Being the only nurse in a doctor's office had its perks, but it was busy days like these that made me want to curl up in a ball and binge watch TV for a week straight. I grab the patient's chart from my desk and make my way to room nine. I glance at the info on the sheets to see what kind of patient I will be dealing with. Dr. Rosenthal works with all sorts of patients that have rare illnesses and conditions no other specialists can handle. While the man is a genius, he is a bit kooky in the head. That is the main reason I am his only nurse. I am the only one who has survived the crazy man's antics.

I pause in front of the door, my eyes narrowing at the clipboard of papers in my hand. The word "Special" was written in Dr. Rosenthal's illegible scrawl under the diagnosis section of the sheet. I glance at the patient's name and brace myself for the "special" case waiting for me before opening the door. "Hello Mr. Min. My name is Nurse Choi, and I'll be taking care of you today." I bustle around the room, preparing everything I need to check the patient's vitals.

"Nurse Choi. I don't want to die in 80 days," he croaks. I stop what I'm doing to look at him for the first time and my eyes widen. His cat-like eyes are empty and sad, completely void of any happiness and joy. When they meet mine, I feel my heart ache for the young man. On the brink of tears, his hushed voice cracks as he speaks again. "Please save me. I don't want to die."

Regaining my composure, I continue setting up the equipment. "Why do you think you're going to die in 80 days, Mr. Min?" As a nurse, there was only so much I could say to a patient. Everything else should be left to the doctor.

His laugh was empty, lacking all happiness and joy usually associated with laughter. "I don't think, I know. Nurse Choi, how old does that chart say I am?" he asks in a calm voice.

I looked at the birthdate written on the chart. September 1, 1997. "It says your sixteen Mr. Min," I answer.

He continues. "Now, look at me Nurse Choi. Do I look sixteen?" he asks incredulously. Looking at him a second time, my eyes widen. "How old do I look Nurse Choi?" His face is sharp and mature, no baby fat remaining on his cheeks or jaw. His tall stature is thin, his muscles long and lean. There is nothing about this man that is sixteen years old.

In a hurry to get away from the patient, I quickly measure his heart rate and blood sugar. "Everyone ages differently, Mr. Min. The doctor will be in to see you shortly," I say before exiting the room. I stand in front of the door for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. How can he be sixteen? He looks my age! As questions continue forming in my head, I make my way to Dr. Rosenthal's office. I knock on the door to announce my presence, and wait until I hear the familiar voice tell me to come in.

As I walk into the office, Dr. Rosenthal is typing furiously at his computer, either replying to emails or working on his second book. "The patient in room nine is ready to see you," I announce, handing him the clipboard.

He briefly scans the sheets before sighing. "Ah, Mr. Min Yoongi. A real mysterious one isn't he," he chuckles lightly.

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. "I'm sorry, sir?"

He looks up at me knowingly. "There's a patient waiting in room three," he says before returning to his computer. I roll my eyes and leave his office to head for room three. As I turn the corner, I'm met with an unconscious Mr. Min lying on the ground.

"Dr. Rosenthal!" I shout before immediately checking the man's vitals. His pulse is normal and he's still breathing. What could've caused him to collapse?

"Nurse Choi," he croaks weakly with a smile. I freeze at his voice, staring into his eyes.

"Move," Dr. Rosenthal sternly orders, and I quickly move out of the way. He scoops up the patient and carries him back to room nine. "Attend to the patient in room three," he orders from down the hallway. I stand there in shock for a moment before heading to room three in a daze.

The rest of the day goes by with no more incidents, and no mentioning of Mr. Min. After turning off the open sign up front, I make my way through the rooms, organizing and sanitizing everything so that it will be ready when we open tomorrow. I get to the last room, room nine, and begin cleaning. As I'm changing the lining on the examination table, I notice a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the wall behind the table. I stretch my arm towards the piece of paper and pull it off the wall to read it.

"I'm glad I got to spend day five with you Nurse Choi. I hope you have a wonderful evening.

Yours truly, Yoongi.

P.S. I love sunny days."

Day five? Day five of what? Confused, I stuff the note into the pocket of my scrubs and finish cleaning the room. Exhausted from the busy day, I grab my bag and slowly head to my car. I smile as I imagine going home and taking a nice, hot bath, then cuddling under the blankets with a good book and my puppy, Taeyang. Today was crazy, but at home, I don't have to think about work.

I close my eyes, trying to not let my mind drift to the mysterious young man I had met earlier today. I sigh in defeat as his face continues to make its wait into my thoughts. I climb out of bed and search for the scrubs I had thrown onto the floor when I got home. Finally finding them, I dig through the pockets and pull out the yellow sticky note he had left me. After straightening it out, I stare at the messy scrawl written on it. Day 5... If he was right about only having 80 days to live, would that mean he only had 75 days left? I still don't understand how a sixteen year old can look like a twenty year old. Is it possible he's becoming a year older every day? I press my fingers gently on my temples to relieve the small headache that has formed. I decide I will try and find out more tomorrow. If Dr. Rosenthal isn't going to tell me anything, I'll find out about it myself. With a newfound determination, I finally fall asleep.