Chapter 3 - The Start of Distress IV

Emotional Turmoil

In the classroom, I said to A-sensei, "In my dream, when I stretched my back straight, I was able to walk briskly. You were pleased to see me doing that."
"Up to now," he said, "you've only had to think about your studies. But now you may be having a hard time with cleaning and other duties."
He then told me this:
"A child suffering from progressive muscular dystrophy wrote this poem:

God presented me with a handicap
Because He believed
I had the power to endure it

It somehow sounds like Hitler's words."
"Well," I replied, "I've actually had similar absurd thoughts, like 'I'm kind of mutation' or 'I'm only living here at the cost of many people.' And I've taken various viewpoints and thought many different things in order to comfort myself." After the rain, I could see a rainbow from the window. It formed a beautiful semicircle. I quickly climbed into my wheelchair to go outside.
"I envy someone who can ride in a wheelchair," said T-kun.
Hey, T-kun, I'll stick pins in your image!
I really wanted to say to him, "You're all right because you can walk." But I couldn't say it. The words might have ruined that beautiful rainbow.

Either Mom or Dad comes to collect me every Saturday. I stay at home overnight and then come back here on Sunday evening. I always have a fresh bruise somewhere on my body when I go home.
"Do you often fall over?" Mom asks me when she sees them.
"Well, because I'm so slow, I'm always pressed for time," I reply. "I ask the dormitory matron to wake me up at 4 a.m. and then I start studying. Otherwise I can't finish my daily duties . . . But the more I try to hurry, the stiffer my body gets, and I fall over."

With the motto "I must walk as much as I can!", I try not to use the wheelchair apart from when I go outside. But when I'm in a hurry or when I want to go to the library-which is located rather a long way away-=I use it to save time.

I'll accept commuting to school in the wheelchair! (To be honest, when I ride in it, I tend to think, 'I'm done for. I can't walk any more.' And that makes me feel more miserable.)

I met the matron in the corridor.
"Good morning," I said.
"Oh, Aya," she replied, "are you going in your wheelchair? It's comfy, isn't it?"

It was so frustrating to hear her say that. I had a chocking feeling and could hardly breathe.

What do you mean, 'comfy?' Do you think I like to ride in a wheelchair? No! What I want to do is walk. I'm very distressed that I can't walk. I suffer a lot from that fact! Do you think I ride in a wheelchair because I want to have an easy time?

I felt like pulling out my hair.

Mom's gray hairs are getting more conspicuous. Perhaps it's because my condition has taken a step backward.