“Have you been diagnosed recently? We register patients who use insulin, but you’re not registered yet?”
“I’m not registered?”
“No. That’s right?”
Not registered.
Geun-yeong felt deflated. He had no idea where to begin. He was trying hard to think lightly, like ‘Everyone else does it, so I should be able to do it too,’ but it felt like black ash was piling up in his mind. Everything felt dark and distant.
“If I’m not registered, can I not get an insulin prescription?”
“No, no. You can get a prescription, but there’s financial support available for patients on insulin therapy. You just can’t receive that.”
The doctor wiped the serious expression off his face and waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh well, you can still register now. I’m just surprised why they didn’t do it at that big hospital.”
“Ah. I see.”
His spirits lifted again.
“But, did you bring your diabetes diagnosis record? Like a diagnosis certificate or medical opinion?”
“No… I don’t have it…”
“Ah. That’s problematic. Today we’ll do some blood tests, and send samples to the diagnostic lab to check several values that can confirm diabetes, and then I’ll write you a prescription. I’ll book your next appointment for a week from now.”
His mood darkened again.
Getting blood tests done, waiting for results, receiving a diagnosis, and then getting a prescription would be too late. The insulin he had left would probably run out in 3-4 days at most.
“I’m sorry, but I need it right now.”
“Ah. Right. You said you’re using an insulin pump.”
The doctor twisted his thumb against his lips while looking at a monitor that showed nothing, then let out a small sigh and squared his shoulders.
“Well, someone using an insulin pump definitely has diabetes, so I’ll write you a prescription first. Just get your blood tests done before you leave today.”
Is he going to manipulate the prescription date?
Geun-yeong was a medical student and knew well about the mechanisms of various diseases, including the diabetes he was suffering from, but not being a doctor yet, he was unfamiliar with the medical system. He wasn’t sure, but he felt that the doctor in front of him would have to falsify something or commit fraud because of him. He was grateful but also very sorry.
“Thank you.”
Geun-yeong expressed gratitude that seemed considerably less than what he actually felt.
Though he thought he’d overcome one hurdle after getting the prescription, that wasn’t the case. Since there weren’t many patients using insulin pumps, every pharmacy he visited repeated that they didn’t have insulin for pump insertion. Some said they could order it and have it in a week.
Geun-yeong eventually had to go to a pharmacy near the general hospital where he had studied and where Seokhun practiced to find insulin.
After putting the hard-to-find medicine in his bag, he stopped by the medical device store right next door. He purchased consumables that needed to be replaced every three days. Although he had seen the replacement process hundreds of times, he had never done it himself. Just buying the supplies already felt burdensome.
After a moment’s hesitation, he also bought a low-cost blood glucose meter. The continuous glucose monitor currently on his forearm was designed to transmit all records to the web when the serial number and password were shared. If he didn’t want that man to keep seeing his condition, he couldn’t continue wearing it. Besides that issue, maintenance costs were considerable. It was a device he couldn’t use without that man’s support.
He put everything in his bag, which had become noticeably fatter, and stepped out of the store with a deep sigh. His heavy heart didn’t lighten. The sky looked yellow. He remembered what Donghwa had said recently. That after staying up all night studying, the sky looked yellow. Of course he had immediately corrected himself, saying it was because of fine dust. It must be fine dust now too, but Geun-yeong could understand Donghwa’s feeling at this moment. The hazy yellow sky felt suffocating. Overwhelming.
From the hospital to the nearby subway station, wandering around the subway station area and back to the hospital. His movements, which that man would be monitoring, probably didn’t seem too unusual.
But from now on, it would be different. Wherever he went would seem suspicious.
Geun-yeong sat on the bench at the bus stop in front of the pharmacy. He took out his phone. He opened the chat where all his classmates were registered.
[Watch out for the first-year OB-GYN. Total jerk.]
[It’s not about personality, he looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in half a year.]
[The general surgery resident is okay. Super nice.]
[You’re in Ji Geun-yeong’s team. He’s just being nice to you.]
[Ah.]
[Someone who organized the endocrinology oral test! Please save me!]
[Just say Ji Geun-yeong directly.]
[Ji Geun-yeong! Please save me!]
[Me too!]
He closed it after reading a few lines. It didn’t seem good to read more. He went into settings. He formatted the SD card in internal storage. He pressed the reset button. The main screen became simplified. The readings he had to check frequently disappeared. He held down the power button. A confirmation button appeared asking if he really wanted to turn off the phone. As he was about to place his finger on the button, he stopped.
‘I’ll call you, so answer.’
A crisis had arrived. Despite having overcome every hurdle—a comfortable life with everything he needed, stable blood sugar, memories with classmates—he found himself missing the man who might be Kyung Jiho.
‘Are you threatening me now? Like, if I don’t say it’s true, I’ll kill you, so just say it’s true, something like that?’
He remembered other words the man who said he would call had said. Words that had made him ashamed. He was a diabetes patient who had been having sex with his adoptive father to survive. Nothing more, nothing less. Even if that man really was Kyung Jiho, there was no reason for him to take responsibility for how he had lived. Even more so if that man wasn’t Kyung Jiho.
While he was spacing out, three buses had passed by. Geun-yeong raised his hand again, which had somehow dropped to his side. Just as he was about to press the power button again, the screen changed. An unknown number appeared. The vibration that started from his palm and reached his wrist startled him, making his whole body freeze. After about three vibrations passed while he was in a daze, Geun-yeong answered the call, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
“…”
He couldn’t remember what to say when answering a phone.
[Kid.]
He didn’t know what to call the man who addressed him as “kid.”
[Are you alive?]
He couldn’t answer that yes, he was alive, that he had run away because he wanted to live.
[If you were dead, I called to scold you.]
He didn’t want to be scolded by a fierce gangster covered in dragon tattoos. He wanted to say he wouldn’t die, that he wanted to keep living too, but he couldn’t speak.
[Man, are you crying?]
He didn’t want to cry. He couldn’t help the tears that kept coming, but he was trying not to make a sound, yet somehow the man knew and asked if he was crying, and at that moment, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
[Man. Kid. Hey, Jang Saet-, no, Ji Geun-yeong, hey! Hey, man!]
This kind of crying was probably what people called sobbing one’s heart out.
* * *
The man, after waiting a moment for Geun-yeong’s sobbing to subside, told him to tell him where he was right now, and that he would kill him if he lied.
Geun-yeong had to tell the truth, saying he was sitting at the bus stop right in front of the pharmacy in front of the hospital. He had to cover his mouth twice because of hiccups while speaking.
[Why the fuck are you crying at a bus stop?]
The man muttered. Then he said he was nearby. He would arrive within fifteen minutes, so stay right there. If he moved even one step, he would kill him again.
Unlike at first, now the threat didn’t sound like one that would actually be carried out, but somehow Geun-yeong still couldn’t disobey. The man hung up.
So Geun-yeong couldn’t move.
For about 2-3 minutes after ending the call, he truly didn’t move. Then he remembered something he hadn’t finished.
He tried to put his hand through his sleeve, but it wouldn’t reach his forearm. He took his hand out of the sleeve and put it through his collar.
After sobbing on the phone and then suddenly stopping, when the man stuck his hand down his collar and started fidgeting around, an ajumma who had to stand there waiting for the bus but had moved far away, glanced at him with an expression that seemed to say, “What’s wrong with him now?”
He felt her gaze, but there was nothing he could do. He had to resolve this within fifteen minutes, no, now ten minutes, and sit back down in this spot. Because the man had said he would kill him if he moved.
Hearing death threats repeatedly had somehow made his fear of death fade. The realistic word that used to press down on him as soon as he closed his eyes to sleep now seemed like an unrealistic joke. Every time the man threatened to kill him, his heavy heart paradoxically felt lighter.
Is that why he keeps telling me he’ll kill me?
It seemed to be just a habitual phrase without any particular intention, but Geun-yeong was still grateful.
After looking around with the continuous glucose monitor he had removed from his arm, he entered the medical supply store where he had bought the glucose monitor and pump supplies earlier. He showed what he was holding to the owner, whose face was asking, “Why are you back again?”
“Um… this is a continuous glucose monitor.”
“Wow! Is that an Inter-Pro Six?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
