Old World Departures

Ever felt a disease gnaw your flesh and crack your very nerves as you bear witness to your limb slowly rotting away?

I did.

It was not a pleasing memory. I would love to hit my head on a rough cement wall and forget about it. The memory alone fills me with paranoia of suddenly catching such terrible disease again and repeating through such experience.

A disease that brings high fever and delirium, encapsulating you to a state of endless fever dreams. Whilst you lack grasp of reality, your body rapidly weakens as you vomit anything you consume.

After a few more days of pain and delusions, then you will start feeling it, the rot.

It starts with a rash, a reddening, then the appearance of countless painful blisters. When these blisters burst, they never heal. Instead, they leave a small rotting patch of flesh.

The little rotting patch, as if a being on its own, continuously eats up the surrounding flesh. It does so slowly and painstakingly that you get the privilege to feel every swelling, every burst, and every futile attempt of your immune system to save you.

Surely not all good works are rewarded. Because If you ask me where did I get such dreadful disease? I acquired it from participating in a noble deed.

I was in the front-line of a rescue mission. Primarily, I was there to add more fame to myself to increase my odds of winning a seat in the next senatorial elections. Secondarily, I was there trying to save lowlifes who insist on building their homes in a forsaken typhoon-frequented area.

Surely, they are greatly limited by poverty and have psychological attachments to their home, but I hoped they spent all their efforts moving to a better place. With the current state of the country, disaster resilience against super typhoons is but a pipe dream. Surely starting anew in a safer place is a better than starting anew in a severely devastated area.

Although I think this disease may have been karma. A divine retribution for all the cruel ploys I employed, for all the friendships I curried only to exploit, for all the corruption I did, and for all the corruption I pretended not to notice. But aren’t all my actions justified?

How else would I be able to climb up in the political shark tank? If not for reliance of patronage and funding of capitalists? How else could I gain cronies, fund all my expensive campaigns and maintain my position?

It’s a dog-eat-dog society. Becoming less of a human seemed too little of a price.

Anyway, it was not the messy state of society that gave me this disease, at least not directly.

I am a volunteer of the Red Cross, mostly to establish myself as a politician who goes to extreme lengths to help people.

The storm was yet to pass, and the rain was heavy. After a long day of rescue operations, I found myself to have a shallow scratch on my arm. I was unsure of its origins, but it was a tiring day. I hardly cared.

I was outdoors for a smoke when a truck carrying relief goods passed by me. One of its wheels rolled over a mud puddle. By pure unluckiness, mud splashed to my face, shirt and arms. By luck, my cigarette was untouched.

The truck driver did not notice the harm he did, nor did I care much. I decided to clean it off later, after I finish my cigarette. That was probably the worst whimsical decision I did in my life. Later that night, I started feeling unwell.

Fast forward six days later, I am in a private hospital in the next island. With high fever, a rotting arm, and blisters all over my body. Doctors aren’t able to identify the disease that has stricken me. Furthermore, antibiotics seemed to have no effect. For the meantime they placed me under a strict quarantine.

My only daily visitor was my sister, and she wore full personal protective equipment every time. If not for her, I probably have died for good.

When I first got high fever, I decided to just sleep it off. My sister meanwhile, decided otherwise. Before I knew it, I was riding various transports towards the nearest functioning private hospital. She always has been a worrywart. She is also a fellow volunteer, though mostly participating in the relief goods distribution. I was somewhat delirious the whole time so I barely remember details of my transport.

On the hospital room I was confined, it was as if death was lurking nearby. He seemed patiently waiting for me to succumb. As if anytime I could have sunken to a hellish dream I could never escape.

I have a lot of things I still want to accomplish, though the life I’ve lived so far left me with little lingering regrets. As such, I would be content if I would depart the world at this point. Besides, dying on a rescue mission, this would certainly bring my family some clout. Perhaps, my sister could use it if she ever runs for politics.

On the ninth day after I contracted the disease, my sister, with bags under her eyes, told me about this experimental company that offers cryogenesis caskets for terminally ill patients. She told me that the doctors predicted that my worsening conditions could lead to my demise in a week.

She said that it was only a temporary solution, probably I will only be frozen for a few weeks at most. The doctors stated if they are bought that much time, they might be able to analyze the disease and potentially find a cure.

She said I can be certainly cured if time constraints are lifted. I found no reason to disagree.

I mustered the remaining bits of my consciousness to put together a farewell message for my friends, family and constituents. Then, I was delivered to the company’s facilities. On both the land and air trip, I requested to allow me to have an unobstructed view of the outside. It may be my last chance to do so.

My sister, still in full protective gear, kept me company and talked all throughout the trip. Although I could not maintain enough concentration to listen to all she says, I tried my best to do so.

After I arrived, I bid farewell to my sister who could no longer hold back her tears. The company’s employees were efficient, and it was not long before I found myself in the cryogenesis casket. It totally resembled the hibernation pods in movies, though I am certainly not in the mood to gawk at details. I sigh. I may lie here for weeks, or I may lie here for eternity. 

Before I drifted into a drug-induced sleep, I close my eyes and drift back to much simpler days with my family. Those days were so warm and comfortable. A far cry from the hectic and tense life I have today.

If only those warm days lasted forever.