Can a selkie mend his broken heart?
After a car accident results in the loss of his family, memories, and empathy, Lee Kangmin finds himself trapped in a colorless world. Once considered a miraculous recovery case of retrograde amnesia, he is now on...
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• 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.
