• Kangmin •
I sat in my office, staring out the window which overlooked the coast. If I focused hard enough, I could see the jagged rocks of Yongduam.
Jeju City was different from Seoul, the winds were constant. I could feel its icy tendrils cut into my skin whenever I went outside. It was the rainy days I came to love the most because with it; it brought a new day. Many tourists came and went from the various resorts on Jeju's coastline. There were fewer international shops and the powerful sense of tradition that I desperately craved nowadays. It was the perfect place to start over, or so I thought.
Having left behind my fragmented past in Seoul, I was now in Jeju as a neurologist. The irony of it amused my friends and family, though I wanted nothing more than to accept that I would not regain my lost memories. Jeju-do was my home now, regardless of whether I liked it.
The phone in the office rang, interrupting my pessimistic thoughts. I picked it up after the second ring and answered, "Yes?"
"Ms. Kim has arrived for her appointment. I informed her she had arrived a few minutes earlier. Shall I send her in?" the receptionist asked, her tone laced with boredom. it was clear that she was uninterested in her job. However, I was not her boss and where her interests lay were of little concern to me so long as she did her job.
"Have the nurse check her vitals. I just received her scan from radiology, so I need a few moments to review it," I instructed while eyeing the black, transparent sheet that stuck out of the blue patient file.
"Very well, Dr. Lee."
I hung up the phone, knowing that I had uttered yet another lie. I knew what was wrong with my patient. The MRI scan couldn't hide the truth. There was partial atrophy of caudate nucleus and putamen and a significant reduction in striatal structure of the hypothalamus. Huntington's Chorea was a rare condition to have but a scary one because it caused the brain's cells to break down.
Every Huntington's patient had a different timetable. Some would have months, years, or even decades if they were lucky. Over time, their bodies would not know how to do the basic things it needed to survive: how to eat, how to drink, and how to breathe. It was a slow and painful disease, not only for the patient but for their loved ones. However, Ms. Kim was all alone, with no children, parents, or husband.
If I were looking at her file before my accident, I would have empathized with her. If all doctors were to become emotionally invested in every patient they saw, then there would be fewer accomplishments in the medical field. Empathy could only go so far until a person crumbled beneath all the emotional pressure. We needed to protect our patients, but above all, ourselves, if we wished to survive in this environment.
A quiet knock resounded on the other side of my office door, forcing me to look up suddenly. "Please come in." I stood up when I took notice of the middle-aged, black-haired woman standing before me and greeted her with a respectful bow. "Hello, Ms. Kim."
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Dr. Lee. How is life treating you these days?" she said with a smile. She wore a professional outfit that comprised a formal blouse, a pencil skirt, and matching heels. She had to have come from work to make this appointment. Judging by the advanced stage of her disease, she would have to give her notice to her employer soon.
"Every day is the same," I replied as I started skimming through her vitals. Everything seemed fine, but now and then, I'd catch involuntary jerks out of my peripheral vision.
"Something tells me you like that," she said with a glimmer of amusement.
"Yes, I strive for a perfect, unchanged routine."
"Your parents must be proud of you."
Her words ignited my pessimism, knowing that I had no parents, just as she did. The only difference being was that she had answers to their deaths, while mine were shrouded in mystery. My body turned cold, and it felt like all of my worry about the woman's prognosis dissipated. "Ms. Kim, you have Huntington's Chorea," I stated with no hint of emotion.
"How long do I have left?" she asked with a sullen look on her face.
"Everyone is different. It could be a matter of nine years or six months. There are several clinical trials that I could enroll you in that may increase your chances for a longer life span, however, there is no guarantee. Your nervous system is already compromised, so you could die before the drug takes effect. There is also a chance that you would receive the placebo," I explained like a medical textbook.
Looking closely at her face, I could see her eyes sunken in and plagued by dark circles from lack of sleep. Rippling tremors spread across her skin, like her muscles were in a constant spasm. She weakly pulled at the sleeve of her jacket, withdrawing herself from my scrutiny.
"Huntington's is a difficult disease to treat, especially on your own. As time goes on, you'll find that it'll be difficult to take care of yourself. You will need to keep up with your fluid intake and switch to softer foods so you don't choke on your food. I recommend leaving your job and hiring a caretaker as soon as possible," I added when she failed to respond to my earlier comments.
She stared at her hands in her lap, refusing to meet my gaze. "I am due to give a presentation in Busan tomorrow," she whispered.
"Someone else will need to give the presentation. This disease has progressed faster than this hospital has experienced. The sooner we develop a course of treatment, the better off you'll be."
"For whose sake, Dr. Lee?"
I cleared my throat and continued, "It's normal to experience depression and insomnia during this stage. I can prescribe xenazine, but it may worsen some of the psychiatric effects that you may be experiencing. We can also try chlorpromazine, but that could worsen some of your other symptoms. What bothers you the most?"
"I wanted to believe there was a reason for my being sick all these months. I wanted to hope for the best and think that I could live out a full life just like my parents wanted. What have I done to deserve this, Dr. Lee? I have been a model citizen, haven't I?" She peered up at me with a sad smile, and spoke in a soft stutter, "Isn't there something you can give to fix everything? To make this terrible disease go away?"
My heart fluttered at the sound of her words, having related to her emotional distress in the past. There was no magic wand to wave and ease everyone's problems. I could only do what was in my power, no matter how limited that was. Picking up my fountain pen, I scribbled a note for the pharmacist to prepare sertraline to go with a starting dose of xenazine. "Take this to the pharmacist before you leave. It won't fix everything, but it should make your life a little easier."
"What's the point?" she whispered.
"There isn't one, but it'll keep you from complaining about everything," the words spilled out. I knew that those were words she didn't need to hear, but I grew uncomfortable with each passing second. It was as if there was an alarm that went off in my mind, telling me I couldn't allow the conversation to continue. Or else something would happen, something .
I took a deep breath and added, "If you don't want the medication, then you don't have to take it. I'd rather give it to a patient that will actually use it rather than let it sit in their medicine cabinet until the day they die."
Ms. Kim flinched at my response. I knew my words stung, but it was the only way to get her to consent. She murmured a thank you and shuffled out of the room without meeting my gaze once again.
I turned over to my computer and pulled up a report that I was preparing to present at the annual neurology convention. The keyboard keys clicked and clacked with every word I typed. When I finished, I paused to read the fresh addition to the report: I diagnosed Patient 286 with Huntington's disease on February 1, 2022. The patient displayed nerve degeneration, depression, involuntary movement, muscle spasms, and speech impairment. I prescribed five milligrams of sertraline for the patient's depression along with twelve and a half milligrams of xenazine.
My fingers tensed and took on a claw-like manner as my eyes lingered on the last sentence. Sseuraegi... You're nothing but trash, Kangmin, I told myself once the door closed behind her. The Director will surely hear of this.
After seeing five more patients, I went running to get my mind off of work. The paths were empty and slick with rain, and the wind whistled softly as it whipped past my cheeks. It didn't matter how cold it was. Its petrichor scent lulled me to a steady pace, with no destination in mind.
"Dr. Lee!" a voice called, pulling me out of my peaceful reverie.
I didn't have to turn my head to see Dr. Park Young-soo running to catch up with me. Dr. Park was one of few oncologists in the hospital that liked to fill their patients with insurmountable hope because he still believed in it as a reliable source of "treatment." He didn't care what others said or thought about him. The only thing that mattered was his patients. It sickened me.
My jog quickened until I broke out into a complete sprint, hoping that he wouldn't be able to catch up to me. I had no patience to deal with his optimistic naivete today.
To my disappointment, he quickly caught up to me and now ran along the right-side of me. His cheerful grin was enough to make my lips curl in disgust. I tuned into SMALLBOOM's deep bass track, hoping he would catch the hint that I didn't want to speak to anyone right now.
After slowing down, he took a moment to move around in front of me, which forced me to an abrupt stop. My music was too loud that I couldn't hear what he was saying, but unluckily for me, the idiot was signing for me to take my headphones out. Once I removed them, he bowed in greeting, then started babbling on about how lucky we were to be doctors.
"Don't you just love the rush when you know you've successfully helped someone?" he asked with a bright grin plastered on his face.
"No," I replied in a snippy tone.
"A thirty-seven-year-old woman presented with hairy cell leukemia and we thought that the cancer would metastasize or she would develop a secondary cancer, but the tumors shrank after a few doses of radiation and chemo!"
"Yes, it's surprising when medicine can do what it was intended for."
"I'll never forget the smile on her face when I told her that the results were looking promising!"
"Dr. Park, you realize we're outside of the hospital, yes?"
"Yes, but—"
"And do you realize you are at risk of violating patient-doctor confidentiality for sharing patient information outside of the hospital?"
"Yes, but I—"
"If you are aware of it, then you should do your best to follow protocol. I have no interest in your patients, nor do I care about how they're faring. I'll leave you with some advice — don't treat a diagnosis like a miracle ordained by God, you'll end up hurting yourself in the end. They're numbers, nothing more and nothing less." Without waiting for him to respond to my comment, I resumed running.
Frustration festered at Mr. Park's earlier words. Having not realized how far off the paths I ran, I found myself on the coast. The smell of the briny ocean filled my senses, threatening to lull me into a peaceful sleep. The water washed upon the shores, taking a little more sand in its grasp each time. Nobody appeared to be on the beach, so I relished in my newfound solitude.
Then I saw . Our eyes met, and it felt like there was nowhere I'd rather be. Her mesmerizing eyes were as wild and unrestrained as the stormy seas. With each passing second, I fell deeper and deeper into their abyss without an ounce of fear. My heart sped up, thrumming rapidly in my chest, causing me to take a step back in shock.
My gaze lingered on her inviting, plump lips. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to feel them against my own. Her long, black hair fell in cascading waves against her delicate skin. She truly looked like an otherworldly goddess of the sea. Every so often, my eyes would return to meet her gaze once again, knowing that if she spoke, my resolve would certainly crumble away into nothing. I was well aware of the effect she had on me, but I couldn't break the trance, no matter how hard I tried.
The spell was broken just as quickly as it was cast when she blinked. My eyes left hers and roamed down her body, only to find that she was completely naked save for a strange seal covering that she wore like a cloak. What kind of woman pranced around in the nude in broad daylight?
Before I could get the answer to my question, Dr. Park was calling for me once more. His closely approaching figure was enough to motivate me to keep running. I turned away and picked up speed, doing my best to ignore the loud splash that followed my retreat.