Before June

Before June: One✓

After giving me the medicine I was going to take this morning, I waited for nurse Barb and Jade to come out before I take it. They already did what they’ll be going to do this morning, I would just take the different medicine they gave me.

I coughed and coughed after I took all my medicine and drank it, so I took my nebulizer because I’m running out of breath again. This is normal for those of us with cystic fibrosis, a genetic disease that causes persistent lung infections and limits the ability to breathe over time.

Having cystic fibrosis will never be easy. My life is full of routines, boundaries, and self-control for me to live longer. CF has no cure, but treatment can just ease the symptoms, reduce complications, and improve quality of life. Still, I’m sick of being here.

I examined the painting I made last night in my sketchbook. It is a painting with a dark green background and a lung-shaped tree in the middle with different colors connected on it. I’m always drawing or painting something to remind me to continue fighting even if it’s tiring.

For me, this is the most amazing painting I’ve ever made. I was just looking at it, unknowingly that nurse Barb entered my room. In each connection in the painting symbolizes the people who became my strength and air in my daily battles.

“It’s the most amazing painting you’ve ever made.”

I turned to her and gave her a small smile. “It is.”

“How’s your feeling?” she asked. “Your brother will visit you later, he said he’ll give you something.”

I just looked at her with a wandering eye. What will that brother of mine give? But then, I just nodded and began to draw a woman on a shore, watching the sunset.

It’s always my dream to explore the world and experience what normal people do. Like watching the sunset on the beach with all of your loved ones, hiking in the mountains and shouted there all you want, eating on the street, shopping in crowded places, take road trips, and go to different places. But I know it’s impossible and I will never experience it.

“Ey!”

I turned to my right side and saw there the annoying face of a man who suddenly appeared whenever he wanted. My so-called guardian.

I rolled my eyes. “You again? What do you need?”

“Yes, it’s me, the one and only handsome Elm,” he said, full of pride in his voice. He even stood straight and bowed like a prince in cartoons.

“I didn’t ask,” I sarcastically retorted and just kept doing what I was doing.

“I’m not also saying that you’re asking,” he replied. I just let him and acted like I didn’t hear it and it doesn’t matter. Well, I’m not easy to get mad so sorry to him, he can’t make me mad that easily, not to his corny jokes.

“What do you need?” I picked up my painting materials and started painting.

I suddenly changed my mind; I’ll just paint the girl on the shore while watching the sunset on the beach I drew to make it livelier and more colorful. I just realized that the painting’s vibe will become gloomy if it’s just a sketch—white and black color—so I’ll just paint it.

“As I’ve said, I’m your guardian,” he answered as if it’s the most obvious answer.

I sighed. “No, I mean what are you doing here?”

“Because I’m your guardian.”

I looked at him sharply. I enjoyed talking to him, to the point that I want to punch his face because of enjoyment.

“Aren’t you afraid that I might spread around the world that you are a guardian?” I asked sharply without taking my gaze off of him.

He shrugged. “No one will believe in you.” He grinned, seemingly complacent that no one would believe in me if I told the whole world that he was a guardian. I wanted to punch him right now but never mind.

I rolled my eyes and got back from painting my masterpiece. “You don’t need anything, right? So, why don’t you just disappear on my sight?”

“I don’t want to.” I never looked at him again and just continued what I was doing. I just let him stay since he doesn’t want to disappear from my sight so I’m just going to act like he wasn’t there.

In the afternoon, Clio—my fifteen years old brother—visited. He frowned as he entered my room while rubbing his hands with sanitizer.

I glanced at what he was carrying in the paper bag. But it was all tupperware containers of oatmeal cookies and oven-baked potato wedges. They are bringing me a portion of food again; I already have food here at the hospital. They shouldn’t have bothered cooking food for me.

“Why did they even bother to cook for me? There is food here at the hospital, I already told them not to bother cooking for me,” I complained. It’s not I don’t want the food; I just don’t want them to bother anymore. I don’t want to be a burden just because I’m sick.

“Lola cooked it for you because she misses you a lot.” He averted his eyes from mine. I felt so guilty from what I’ve said, reason why I also averted my eyes from him—feeling so guilty. He even made an effort to come here just to deliver me food. I feel bad for him for having a sick and burden sister.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ate. You’ll never be a burden to us, so please don’t be like this.”

I smiled. “I know, sorry.”