Living with Hiroshima

Ever since August 6, 1945, residual radiation has troubled people. Not just the people who were exposed to the A-bombing, but those who got involved in Hiroshima later in one way or another were also affected, either falling ill or dying. Among them were the people who tended the victims, who walked around the ruins, who were caught in the black rain, or those who did the corpse-clearing job. A rumor that you would be infected if you had physical contact with hibakusha, or survivor, spread wildly, and the hibakusha were discriminated against.

Many of those who came to live in Hiroshima after the war were either the people who had evacuated till the war ended or newcomers who had expected job opportunities in the city reconstructing process. They were busy looking after their own living, and had little sympathy with hibakusha. Also, many of the A-bombed had evacuated to remote or mountainous areas and remained there quite a while for recuperation, so it was fairly long before they could return to Hiroshima.

A-bombed women often had miscarriages, stillborn babies, or handicapped babies. For a long time, hibakusha were rejected or hesitant to get married, or chose not to have children. There were many known cases.

Twelve years had already passed before a hospital specializing in hibakusha treatment was finally built in 1957. It was established, not by the national government, by the effort of the Director of the Red Cross Hospital, Dr. Shigeto, who was instrumental to get the charity money from the New Year greeting postcards and constructed it on an vacant lot in the Red Cross Hospital grounds.

I got a job in that A-bomb Hospital in its initial stage. There, my job was to interview hibakusha and take notes of their A-bomb experiences as well as their complaints about health or life as a whole. Twelve long years had passed since Japan’s defeat, yet the A-bomb Hospital was crowded with those who had never visited any hospital before then due to their tight living. The interviewer, myself, was a hibakusha, but it was painful for me to take notes of their pathetic stories. Through my job, I came to think that my family was a relatively blessed one among other A-bombed families, although my mother was in critical condition lying in bed on the 2nd floor of the A-bomb Hospital.

One day I had a thorough examination. Although I had often been dizzy, I was not aware that I was ill. The result of the blood test was that both red and white blood corpuscles were fewer than half of the normal. I, a worker at the Hospital, became a designated hibakusha, which made me realize the sheer fact that I was an A-bomb survivor. The situation in those days drove me into the edge of despair, and I gave up and quit my job only after one and a half years.

Once a year ever since, I have a thorough examination, and the test result always shows that my blood is under the normal figure. However, I survive. Each individual is different--tall, short, thin, fat, or handicapped. It is true that I am allowed to live, whatever conditions there may be. So, I’d like to live in gratitude to my last day, thankful to God.