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墨書 Inktalez
Three years after starting my job, my body began to feel off.
At first, it was just fatigue; I thought it was due to work stress and didn’t pay much attention. Then came the persistent low-grade fever, which I could temporarily suppress with fever reducers, but it would return before long. After that, I experienced inexplicable weight loss and a vague, intermittent pain in my abdomen—not severe, but enough to leave me unsettled.
I started to feel a bit scared. The abnormal signals from my body became increasingly clear, and I could no longer deceive myself into attributing them to fatigue or minor ailments. However, the thought of telling my father was instinctively dismissed. What would his reaction be? Most likely, he would say I was overreacting or think I was just looking for an excuse to ask for money or attention. Past experiences felt like an invisible wall that blocked my path to seeking help from him. If I told him, I might not only receive no assistance but also endure another round of denial and indifference.
It was better to go to the hospital by myself.
I took a few days off without revealing the true reason, simply stating that I wanted some rest.
I registered, waited in line, and sat in the waiting area. The hospital buzzed with people coming and going; the cacophony and the smell of disinfectant filled me with an inexplicable sense of irritation and anxiety. Sitting on the cold plastic chair, surrounded by strangers who looked either anxious or troubled, I hugged my arms tightly around myself, feeling a deep loneliness that penetrated to my bones.
When the doctor asked about my symptoms, I tried to narrate them as calmly as possible. This was followed by a series of tests: blood draws, ultrasounds, CT scans… Each wait for results felt like waiting for an unknown judgment.
Finally, outside the CT room, the doctor called me aside with the images and report in hand. His expression was serious.
“Miss Lin,” he pointed at some shadowy areas on the images, “initially, the situation doesn’t look optimistic.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“There are space-occupying lesions in your abdominal cavity; we highly suspect they are malignant.” His words were cautious, but the meaning was clear. “We need to conduct further biopsies for a definitive diagnosis, but you should prepare yourself mentally.”
Malignant tumor.
Those words echoed in my mind like thunder. In an instant, it felt as if all sound around me vanished; the world turned blank. A wave of immense fear gripped me, nearly making me unsteady on my feet.
But strangely enough, after the fear came not a hysterical breakdown but an absurd sense of numb resignation.
It felt… not entirely unexpected.
All along, I had felt like an unanticipated existence, even my luck seemed worse than others’. Now it seemed even my body was confirming this point in such an extreme way.
I couldn’t recall how I walked out of the doctor’s office or how I made it through the hospital doors clutching that preliminary diagnosis report stating “Highly Suspected Malignant Tumor.”
The sunlight outside was blinding. The streets were bustling with cars and hurried pedestrians. Everyone rushed toward their lives; their worlds remained vibrant and lively. Meanwhile, I felt like someone isolated in another dimension—watching it all unfold yet feeling utterly disconnected from it.
I didn’t cry. It felt as though my tears had dried up many years ago. All I felt was cold—a chill that seeped from within and couldn’t be dispelled.
My phone vibrated in my pocket; it was a text from my father with just three words: “When will you return?”
He didn’t even bother to call.
I stared at the text message, my finger hovering over the screen, unable to type a single word in response. Reply? Where would I even begin? Back to that cold, lifeless house? Should I tell him that I might have cancer? And then what? Would he be in disbelief, scolding me for not taking care of myself, or would it be yet another indifferent "I see"?
I couldn't bear to think about it, nor did I want to.
In the end, I put my phone away without replying. Standing alone on the street corner, I watched the endless flow of people, feeling a profound sense of isolation for the first time.
It was as if I were the only one left in the world, facing this sudden, dark abyss all by myself.
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