Concrete Jungle

Chapter 4

***This chapter has very graphic content; not for the faint of heart or squeamish. Reader discretion is advised.***

18 October 1986

Dearest Katya:

Something is seriously wrong with Vasya. I hadn't seen him for 3 days and its like there was a sudden shift of some kind. I had painted him a picture of autumn in art class and learned how to make paper airplanes from some neighborhood kids, so I planned to shoot it up to him. When I got to my usual spot behind the hospital, I looked up, and it was like I was seeing a stranger. He was bald! Completely and utterly bald. And to make matters worse, his skin, especially on his hands and face, was very blistered, to the point that it looked raw.

"Vasya, what happened?" I asked shocked.

"Hi, little Sasha. I spiked a high fever over the weekend, and Sunday woke up with clumps of hair on my pillow. It's not just on my head, it's like my whole body shed all of its hair and with that my skin has blistered over." He said with a sad sigh.

"Why is this happening? I thought you were getting better?" I asked puzzled.

"So did I. I don't know. The doctors are just monitoring me right now, they are going to start putting gauze on the blistered areas to keep moisture or something in my body from leaking out. I don't know what to make of any of this."

"That's good that the doctors are taking care of you. I think you'll heal again in no time." I assured him. He smiled at me, but his smile was unconvincing.

"Let's hope so."

"Hey listen, I made you something and wanted to give it to you!"

Forgetting about the situation almost entirely for a moment, I took my paper airplane out of my rucksack and without waiting for him to question me, shot it expertly into the open window where he caught it with his very blistered hands. He winced when the paper made contact with them, but he did his best to hide it. Opening the folded ends of the paper slowly, he looked at my crude painting and smiled.

"Sasha, this is a masterpiece! I shall save it and look at it every day. Thank you so much for thinking of me."

"You're welcome! I'm glad you like it." I said proudly. That totally made my day and I could tell that despite the pain it made his too.

As he looked at the drawing, he and I spoke for a bit longer and then just before leaving, I saw him place the drawing on the table next to his bed, but when he let go of it, pieces of his skin stayed on the paper from his hands. I felt so bad to see him in pain, surely the doctors were doing everything they could for him. What do you think, Katyusha? How long will it take for him to get better this time? Time will tell.

Love, Sasha

20 October 1986

Dearest Katyusha:

I can't write every day because school work takes up a lot of my time plus now with winter not too far away, we are doing a lot of outdoor chores which I help with. I saw Vasya the other day, and he looked worse. I didn't think things could get any worse, but he was wrapped from neck to toe in gauze. Still, though there were these red blotches everywhere. He told me that the orderlies had at first only changed his dressing twice a day but now that number had quadrupled. He looked like he was in so much pain. He kept saying that the doctors were telling him to drink a lot of water because his body was leaking a lot of fluid and there was no way to stop it.

"So drink the water, Vasya. That should definitely help with making you better."

"I don't know if I will get better at this point." He looked sad, but it was his eyes that got me; they were terrified. I had never seen an adult look like that before.