The Lone Macaw (1) – Prologue

I have always hated doctors.

The stuffed atmosphere in the waiting rooms, the endless examinations, and those incomprehensible names. No, I don't know what Staphylococcus are, I'm not happy that Encephalomyelitis disseminata isn't possible anymore, and I also don't think - Wait! Don't send me to the next one. I am not fine! You have to believe me!

Getting checked, getting cleared, getting sent to the next specialist with several months of waiting time. It was this endless cycle of doubtful eyes, exasperated explanations, and reproachful questions that ground my childhood faster than any symptom ever could. And so I decided to just laugh at those doctors and specialists with their high-handed advice and enjoyed my life instead. You aren't sick when you ignore your aches.

But reality is cruel. And small children even more so.

They can feel when something isn't right. They subconsciously understand what the adults don't tell them. And they avoid those who differ from them.

It doesn't matter that you can run fast when your dizziness is enough to make you fall over. Brains won't help if your headaches keep you from any meaningful assignment. And friendship withers each time you cancel long planned events thanks to overwhelming nausea. There's a wall between you and the others and it won't just go away because you beg for it, scream at it, or fight against it.

By the time I graduated grade school I still hadn't found any significant other, someone I would call a friend without hesitation. Hence I returned to my life full of needles and never-changing questions and prayed for an end. And to my surprise, salvation came. Not in the guise of a cure, but age. I enrolled in high school.

Aging was a wonderful thing. It meant growing up, becoming heavier, swallowing stronger medications. My first victory. And my first life lesson. Symptoms aren't that problematic if your painkillers are potent enough. Paracetamol, budesonide, codeine - every symptom had its enemy. Maybe not the most healthy conduct, but back then it changed my world.

Similarly, aging changed my classmates and their understanding. Fear became interest, compassion, and lastly friendship. I must have been a gross mess when I came home and cried for hours after I had found my first friends. But all I can remember now are my mother's soothing words as tears ran down her cheeks. Maybe things would have been different, had I realized her feelings back then.

But my high school life ran its course, unaware of her burden. Thanks to my weak body I never belonged to the cool kids and my first love remained a one-sided crush. It was a life others might call boring and gray. But it was enough for me.

I could attend school without problems, had friends to laugh with and the Internet provided all the arousal I needed. Even my medical appointments became less and less as the waiting lists for specialists became longer and longer. And a hand full of pills was enough to forget my problems.

It wasn't a perfect time as my tremors became more and more frequent. But those weren't enough to scare my new friends away as I slowly learned to live with them. At last my peaceful everyday life had begun. And I became one of those eccentric boys who looked forward to their next day in school. Although naïve might have been a better description.

Time passed with the blink of an eye and I found myself in another uncomfortable chair. My mother beside me, a giant mahogany desk in front and Doctor Kalden sitting right behind it. He smiled at me and even seemed reluctant as he began his speech. But as always, his words were directed towards my mother while my gaze ran across the consultation room.

I've been to countless offices, but weirdly enough it was this one I would never forget. It was wide and open, not much inside beside an examination table, shelves, a few flower pots and that weird skeleton poster every doctor seems to own. Overall, not that much different from all the others save for the white landscape behind the unnecessary large windows.

My mother sat beside me. Some lucky stone in her right fist, her left hand on my thigh, and her eyes focused on every word that left the doctor's lips. This had become a well-rehearsed routine over the years. Anything to cope with the fear. Overprotective, anxious, lost.

Nowadays I would be the same if my daughter sat there beside me. But to that cynical youth it was just another boring afternoon. Fresh Latin words, a doctor showing off his deep education and idle thoughts.

My classmates had talked about some new MMO they wanted to try out. Fighting against hordes and defending a sanctuary, screenshots full of half-naked women fighting for their lives, and that generic but weird mixture between western realism and anime to attract as many teenage boys as possible. A game people would quit after half a year and regret the hours they had lost.

But to me this was just another excuse to spend more time with my friends outside of school. And so I imagined the cool magician I would create. Some powerful fighter throwing fireballs or thunder at his enemies. Even just reminiscing about the heroine's screenshots was enough to loiter away.

Oh, such naïve thoughts.

It was a sharp pain in my thighs that forced my attention back to the present and burned the following scene into my memory.

I have forgotten my mother's smiling face long ago. Her caring eyes, the sound of her laughter, carefree moments. All of them buried under the blurred fog of time. But her expression on this day, grave and focused, followed and haunted me for the rest of my life.

Broken sentences.

Treatment costs, chances for recovery, admission to a specialized hospital.

Loan, charitable foundations, donations, counseling, terminal care.

And finally my mother turned her head, forced a smile, and spoke the words that would return my life to loneliness.

"Aki. From now on you don't have to go to school anymore."