Tetu Keseh Keseangan Aa Doctor
1. Mysterious Illness

“I've never seen a sick person like you. What pain are you crazy?”

Gistara could still hear his father's voice as the consciousness slowly gathered. He opened his eyes, finding a strange view from the ceiling of a bright foreign room.

Only a moment later did he shut his mouth, wanting to spit out something even though he ended up choking on his empty stomach.

“Drink first.”

The voice was shocking, and the figure of the handsome young man was even more shocking, but Gista was attacked by a feeling of insanity. Heart's pounding.

The smell of the air conditioning room that seemed like rotten fish in a garbage can, mixed with the smell of this man's perfume that he was sure smelled but smelled like a carcass to him made Gista vomit again.

Again he cried. I want to be crazy about all this.

Wh why? Why is it that only he experiences this? Is he really crazy? Like Dad said?

“Teh.”

Gista reached out to tell him to back off. If not, then he will continue to be attacked by the symptoms of this strange disease.

Long Gista tormented by the urge of nausea. The foul taste around him tormented. Everything tastes like rotten fish and raw meat. His mouth felt strange too.

Tormenting.

“Hiks.”

“Teh.” The voice was heard again, but this time plus a thick thread of cloth.

Gista grabbed it straight away. Shut his mouth tight, and clearly seal his kiss from everything.

Jeremiah trembled. It was blurry to see the man because his eyes were wet. But Gista knew himself that he had been helped, so while trying to hold back, he rubbed his eyes rough.

“Do not rub his eyes, Tea, later blisters," he said politely.

The young man sat a little far away, as if understanding Gista could not if he approached.

“Udah better?” ask him again.

Gista still wants to cry. “Who are you?”

Only Gista could see him smiling kindly. “My name is a lot. This guy calls him Gasen, sometimes he's Mr. Doctor, Kang Doctor, Aa Doctor, but my name is Endra.”

Huh huh?

“Whose Tetname?” ask the foreigner, instead of explaining his words just now.

“Gista.” Gista's voice trembled as he replied.

He's a little whiny. “Udah know anyway, because I read the recipe book.”

“Out of the neurologist, Tea?” ask him once more, in a very friendly and gentle tone.

Gista nodded. Started to be distracted from his frustration even though he had to keep his mouth shut.

It should, again, because everything around it will smell.

“What's Sore Tea, if you can know?”

Then Gista came back crying.

What pain, he said? Justu Gista who wants to ask, should ask where to know the answer?

Gista has met three neurologists, wasted a lot of money just for the examination and it's all about diagnosis without certainty. All he saw was the doctor's astonished face because he had never heard of his pain.

He searches on google, searches on medical books, but there is no name. He is mentally ill, said Father.

As Gista cried sobbing, the young man who claimed to be named Endra scratched his nape awkwardly. He glanced at the Gista medicine pouch, not actually not not knowing that there must be a problem.

“I saw there was a nervous breakdown. I happen to know a little about medicine. If Teteh wants, can I hear his complaint?”

Gista was too tired to mention it, so he just shortened it. “Everything smells.”

Those two words were enough to make her cry.

“I can't eat. Everything is like raw meat.”

“.... How long have complaints been? There was a clash or—“

“Nothing.” Gista answered too quickly, because it was always what was asked and the answer would never change.

He had already answered this earlier to three different specialists. “No impact. There's no pain. I'm nuts. I'm crazy for this.”

Gista rubbed his eyes that could not stop crying. It hurts, for God's sake. His heart hurts, not his head or anything.

He was only injured because he suffered from a strange disease that the doctor was astonished, then the sick father said he was crazy.

Is there such a disease? Soap stinks of rotten meat, raw meat, carrion-flavored rice, everything he can't eat until he can only swallow one loaf a day, one divided by three.

What if it wasn't crazy?

“Psychosomatic not crazy, Tea.” The young man smiled shadyly.

But Gista was already too desperate to consider it entertainment.

***