My father had picked me up from a grueling day at Seoul American Elementary. He drove into the school bus parking lot with his green Volvo ÃÂ94 850 and honked the horn just enough to get my attention. I got up from the metallic bench located near the playground and got into the car. The car reeked of cigarettes and car deodorizer, but the sweet smell of the leather seats kept me from complaining. I sat there listening to my father complain about Korean cab drivers and their poor driving. It was not long until we pulled into the hospital parking lot. When I opened the car door, I felt the fall breeze brush through my hair and the scent of ginkgo seeds filled my nostrils.
I was only six and just started the first grade when I came across an agonizing pain on my right hip. It was not an excruciating pain; it was just enough to bear.
Oblivious of my wellbeing, I walked on it for months, supposing that I tore a muscle and that the pain would dissipate. The pain would come and go depending on my vim of the day. I'd walk with a subtle limp and would not carp about it at all. My flexibility of my right leg slowly diminished and the discomfort and agony would only grow, and yet, I still believed that it was not anything substantial. During these few months, I had caught a common cold. My history of seizures, as an infant, proved to be caused by unusual fevers initiated by common colds. Therefore my father took me to the 121st General Hospital for a usual check-up. I still distinctly remember that life-changing day.
When we walked through the doors, the sterile smell of the hospital immediately hit me. For...