It was around eight in the evening and I have just arrived home after a serene night walk. I deliberately left my phone at home so I could have some time to myself and think.
I was on a vacation and being in Japan felt like home but it also felt foreign. I left this country when I was two so I really didn't have any vivid memories here yet but I am definitely determined to make some.
"How was your walk?" my dad asked as I was taking my shoes off by the door.
"It went fine, it was cold though," I chuckled. "I'll head to my room now!"
My parents tried hard to incorporate a multi-cultural upbringing with us, their children, especially since dad was a Japanese, mom was a Spanish-Filipino, and we're living in Canada; it was a lot to handle but they were champs for not giving up in teaching us values of each culture. It was funny when back then, dad would refuse to talk to us if we aren't speaking Japanese and mom would do the same with Spanish and Filipino, it was total language chaos.
Plopping down on my bed, I took my phone only to be met with fifteen missed calls from Brian.
Is there something wrong? As far as I know, he is coaching in a competition right now.
I called him up in FaceTime and not even a minute passed when his face appeared on my screen.
"Sorry, I was out. What's up?" I asked.
"We had an accident here like more than an hour ago," he started. He shifted the camera to the rear view and pointed it to a sleeping man; they were in the car and the guy was sleeping.
He looked peaceful; his skin looked so soft that it could rival those of a baby's although it might just be a camera trick but anyways. Despite the awfully changing lighting because they were travelling, I could make out that a bandage was wrapped around his head.
"Oh, who's that?" I questioned, not familiar to who he is or what happened to him. I am repeating this, I am not a fan of any figure skater or any athlete in general, cut me some slack.
"It's Yuzuru Hanyu, the back injury guy from September," Brian answered, hoping it would ring some bells.
"Ah!" I exclaimed, remembering Mr. Hanyu as the patient I diagnosed without seeing because he didn't show up for training that day, "What the freak happened to him?"
"During the warm-up, he collided with another skater. He was bleeding."
I don't like where this is heading.
I frowned, "Did you let him compete?"
Brian didn't respond but I guess I had an answer to that.
"Come on, Bri. Why did you let him?"
I am frustrated. Why would you even let an injured person jump and spin on a slippery surface? It's total nuts!
"He said he could do it, he wanted to do it."
I sighed, "Get him straight back to Japan. I'll meet you two at the airport in Narita."
"You'll travel all the way to fetch Yuzu?" Brian asked in disbelief. "Aren't you in Sapporo?"
"Yes, no more questions. I ought to give him my utmost medical care, Mr. Hanyu is my patient after all."
***
"Mr. Yuzuru Hanyu is my patient," I quipped, showing the airport guards my Japanese professional license and an authorization from Japan Skating Federation whom Brian and I reached out to last night.
Without any more fuss, I was allowed back in again after placing my luggage into my friend's car in the parking lot and was even led directly near the entrance they will be using.
I sat down and zipped up my jacket to the top, I am freezing. To say that I am tired is an understatement, I have just arrived from my own flight from Sapporo and I immediately went here. I did not sleep a wink last night as I took my sweet time analyzing the clip of Yuzuru's collision, reviewing the chart made by the doctors who handled him in Shanghai, and making a whole-ass list of possible diagnosis, complications, and overall situations. I also watched his free skate program — that's what it's called, right? — to see his orientation and condition after the accident and boy, I am mad.
Brian had already gotten an earful — a calm earful, I don't shout, okay? — from me; he took it well because he knows that I am speaking from a physician's standpoint.
Soon enough, I see a group walking like a dead-ass whole entourage of men. Is this another version of the Men in Black? Brian was nowhere to be seen as I think he was still in Shanghai.
As they closed in, I set my eyes onto the man being pushed on a wheelchair; he was in a comfy tracksuit and had a face mask on.
I approached them and bowed, "Hi, I'm Miyu Hashimoto, Mr. Hanyu's physician. I'll take over from here."
Yuzuru was just quiet as he looked at me introducing myself to the one who was pushing him.
The man politely bowed back and I took my position behind Hanyu and started making our way out.
Even with his slim stature, Yuzuru isn't feather-light; good thing I was used to pushing and lifting patients in the hospital back then during my hospital training.
"I see you had time to do your hair," I quipped behind him, taking a few glances at his head, looking for the staples I was told he got to close the bleeding. I can't help it, his hair seemed to be done neatly in a style that enhanced his eyes.
"You can speak Japanese," he replied back, looking back and up at me.
For some reason, even with his mask on, I can sense that he has this kind of pout or expression that silently screamed 'you can speak Japanese but why the hell are you talking to me in English?'
"Oh, can I?" I smirked, wanting to keep the mood light. The boy probably had a lot on his mind with the pain and all.
"Are you a doctor?" he asked.
I used every fibre in me not to roll my eyes; we aren't close and I don't want to start off on the wrong footing with a patient. After all, rapport is essential in a medical relationship.
He is a patient, I don't sass to patients. Repeat until true, Miyu.
"No, I am a policewoman," I joked — although my tone didn't indicate any hint of playfulness because I am cool and sarcastic like that.
"No more English, we're in Japan already," he ordered... in English.
English who? I only know Engrish as per this man right here. His accent was cute and was uwu-inducing. I am getting this kid-like vibe from him that I thought if he isn't on a wheelchair right now, he'd definitely be all over the place.
I wasn't able to respond to him anymore as we were met with like a hundred — I may or may not be exaggerating — of people and cameras trying to get a statement and footage.
Being in this scenario and seeing this situation again ran a chill down my spine. My fists tightened around the handles of the wheelchair as flashbacks of all those media people during my prodigy days played in my mind.
It was awful. I remember feeling like everyone was constantly watching every move I do and it was scary.
Okay, calm down, Miyu; you'll be alright. It's not the time to have an anxiety attack. Pull yourself together, girl, you're pretty. Don't judge, I'm pepping myself up.
Just then, Yuzuru looked up to me like he wanted to say something. I glanced at him, getting the idea of what he wanted as people started throwing questions at him, "Speak to an interviewer in the parking lot, not right here, they're too many."
Since Brian or any of the coaches weren't here, I am responsible for the safety and wellbeing of Yuzuru and I wouldn't want him to be overly stressed just by arriving back to Japan.
He seemed to agree with my judgment as he returned his gaze forward.
One thing that got me though is that he was bowing to the people who were there for him. As we passed by those who were waiting behind the stanchion queue barriers, he was bowing and thanking them despite the pain and discomfort he was in.
It was one of the moments that made me think that the human race might not be completely hopeless after all.
Reaching the parking lot, I was right, there are two or three media personnel waiting by the exit.
I motioned for them to approach at an acceptable distance before stepping away momentarily so Hanyu could have his time in peace.
After approximately three minutes, I stepped back behind Hanyu and bowed to the media, silently telling them that we'd be heading on our way.
I pushed the wheelchair near the van's opened door and held a palm out for him.
"It's okay, I can do it on my..." his words trailed off as I raised a brow at him, wiggling my fingers, getting impatient.
Yuzuru just chuckled and shook his head gently, placing his hand above mine. His fingers were cold yet his palm was warm.
With care, I assisted him into his seat in the van, ensuring that he was comfortable in his position before going in, myself.
While we were on our way to the hospital in Tokyo, I asked, "Why did you still skate?"
He looked at me, his lips slowly turning into a smile, his eyes disappearing as he does, "I love skating and I work hard for every competition. I don't want to waste all people's effort and let them down."
He has a point; however, I am not too sure if it was worth risking himself again, especially when he haven't gotten proper medical attention at that time.
"Believe me, your answer was beautiful as an athlete but as your doctor, I would have told you to sit it out," I shifted my position to the side so I was completely facing him, feeling myself getting fired up, "Did you know that concussion symptoms does not always present itself right after the trauma and can exhibit itself on a delayed note after the injury? You were bleeding forty-five minutes prior to the event, fell five more times during your routine, looked so pale, and was evidently disoriented. A second impact could be extremely dangerous and even fatal! Do you know how risky the choice to proceed to skate is?"
After my medical litany, all he said was, with a pout, might I add, "You watched my free skate? Ah, you shouldn't have, I did poorly."
Oh dear, help me, God.