I lie on the operation bed, surrounded by nurses and doctors.

The smell of ether makes me dizzy, and I feel tired even before I've taken the medicine.

I feel a sort of stinging pain in my left hand, and close my eyes, not wanting to look.

They've just inserted it.

That thing I don't know the name of that make me capable of recieving energy, even

though I cannot eat after I wake up.

The pain fades away, and I open my eyes, and look at my left hand.

A sort of plaster-like device, with a hole to insert shots is there.

I lie down on the bed again, having been asked to sit upright while they inserted


Mom sits by me, not holding my hand anymore, like she used to when I was

five years old, and underwent the same operation.

She just sits there, a reassuring look on her face, and I smile at her fondly.

I look around at all the nurses and doctors in the

operation room.

They're all looking at me, which makes me feel safe, secure, and I like that.

It doesn't really matter, anymore, the pain I just felt in my hand.

Not because I know that a pain from my legs, and sickness from an empty stomach awaits me when I

Wake up, but because I know that

I'll be fine.

I know I have a whole bunch of friends out there for me, so that's okay.

Especially him.

My best pal.

As long as I have these things, pain and blood means


to me.