Final Farewell (3)
After the Korea National University Hospital’s video post went up, SNS caught fire all over again.
Time kept moving, and Ayeon’s condition improved enough that discharge became possible. Given that the rejection reaction—which accounts for most post-transplant complications—had been completely absent, it was only natural.
“Professor Lee, what’s your take?”
“I’d like to transfer her to the psychiatric ward and keep observing. The alexithymia is one thing, but the complete disappearance of the other personalities bothers me. She could be hiding them… Of course Bulja claimed the main personality isn’t even aware the others exist, but… nothing’s certain.”
“But she’s insisting so strongly on being discharged… Ha. How am I supposed to persuade her?”
“It’s only natural she has no good memories of this hospital… Professor Hwang, there are no issues with the heart and lungs, correct?”
“None. All the tests came back completely clean. Her weight still isn’t climbing well, but… I’ve been adding nutrition to the IV fluids, so she should recover soon. Rehab is progressing smoothly too.”
“The way she improved so suddenly… even to me it doesn’t look entirely normal. With mental illness, especially depression, a sudden upswing is usually when you have to be most careful.”
“Hmm, is that so? That’s outside my field. Can you explain?”
“Rather than complete lethargy, they sometimes gain the energy needed to actually carry out suicide. Or, paradoxically, because they’ve already made the decision, they can appear temporarily calm. It happens more often than people think. Patients in treatment for depression who seem a little better suddenly make the extreme choice.”
“So you think this is one of those cases?”
“It’s ambiguous. Mental issues are hard to standardize with numbers to begin with, and there aren’t many situations where you can give a definite answer…”
“Hmm… Then judging purely from experience? You’ve been a specialist for nearly twenty years, haven’t you? If we discharge her, do you think Seol Ayeon will make an extreme choice?”
“Honestly I put it at over ninety percent… but it’s truly ambiguous. The fact that there’s still no sensory loss suggests some will to live has appeared. Then again the test results feel almost artificially clean… But the sense of wrongness in her behavior is severe. Either way I’m opposed to discharge. We can always invent a reason. Let’s delay it a little longer.”
“Wrongness in her behavior…”
“You felt it too, didn’t you, Professor Hwang?”
“I did. That’s why I called you in.”
“At first, sitting still in the room staring only at Soyun’s belongings seemed understandable. But it’s been almost two weeks now.”
“…That’s true.”
Professor Hwang nodded at Professor Lee’s reasonable point. On the surface she was perfectly normal. Conversation flowed, she smiled easily, she expressed pain when the incision sites hurt, she ate well. Tests showed nothing wrong. And yet…
Spending nearly two full weeks watching, listening to, nothing but Soyun’s videos, photos, and recordings… that’s strange.
Humans are animals of forgetfulness; the time they can remain submerged in a single emotion is shorter than people think. Even after watching a masterpiece of a film and feeling deeply moved, you don’t spend nearly two weeks rewatching only that. No matter how entertaining the movie, replaying the same scenes for two weeks inevitably dulls the enjoyment. You don’t even need two weeks. Force someone to watch the same film for twenty-four hours straight and concentration collapses until they’ve barely seen it at all. Of course—they’ve already seen every scene.
But Ayeon, nearly two weeks later, still spent every moment outside of tests and other necessities watching and listening only to Soyun’s mementos. That was definitely strange. At first she had wailed; now she simply stroked the belongings with a completely blank face, arranged them, watched them again… No matter how you looked at it, it was wrong.
And we can’t exactly take them away from her…
“The funeral’s still about two weeks out. Let’s keep watching a little longer.”
“Yes, Professor Hwang.”
The day of Soyun’s funeral dawned. Night winds had begun to carry a chill, the sky was clear, and the autumn leaves had reached their peak at the tail end of October. A cool yet somehow warm natural breeze passed over me—its texture utterly different from artificial air.
How long had it been since I last stepped outside the hospital? I collapsed in September, didn’t I? I held on for about four months, died once, and from then another nine months or so had passed. Over a year already. Autumn, so the Whales’ season must have ended by now.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong.”
“If anything hurts, please tell me right away.”
“Yes. Doctor.”
—Creak.
Holding the hand of Pediatric Department Head Kim Seyeon, I stepped out into the world beyond the door.
“Ah…”
So this was it. The world outside the hospital. So beautiful, so wide.
“Ayeon!”
“Been a while since you were outside the hospital, huh? Want to hold Mom’s hand?”
My family was waiting for me outside. Her hand… I gently released Dr. Kim’s and held mine out to Mom.
When was the last time I had held Mom’s hand?
She took mine carefully. Was it the cold weather? Her hand felt slightly cool. Come to think of it, did Mom always have cold hands and feet?
Rough and cold, yet to me it was warmer than anything. That incident had just been an accident. Mom was still my mom.
“Our Ayeon’s hand is so warm~”
“Really? Me too. Oh, it really is.”
Both hands were taken, both arms lifted almost off the ground. I was reminded all over again how much smaller I had become. Was I even 140 cm?
Mom and Unnie stopped still out of consideration for me. I took a slow step. Then another.
This was the ground outside the building. I should have at least thrown a tantrum. I should have insisted I wanted to go outside with you. Why had the two of us just stayed locked in that hospital room waiting to die? Something like this—we could have done it together.
“…Are you okay?”
“…No. I don’t think… I’m okay…”
Tears I thought had long since dried began to fall again. It hurt. I didn’t know where, but it hurt. Why did it hurt?
—Rustle.
I stepped on a maple leaf that had turned bright yellow.
If only you could have heard this sound with me.
How nice that would have been.
“Ayeon…”
Dr. Kim wiped my face with a handkerchief. She and my family waited a moment for me to calm down. This kindness wasn’t unnecessary.
A clear sky. Different from the spring sky I had seen from the rooftop that time. High and pure. Was the sky itself telling me to let you go already? I still didn’t want to let you go.
—Whoooosh~
A cold, strong wind swept over me. Was it telling me to hurry?
—Thud. Thud.
In the distance the funeral wreaths came into view. That was the place. The place where I had to send you off.
“Ah…”
“If it’s too hard, you can come back later. It’s a five-day funeral.”
“…No. From beginning to end, I’ll keep my place. Without fail.”
“…Alright. Soyun will be happy, I’m sure.”
“…Ayeon, we’ll keep watch with you. If it gets too hard, tell us anytime. Dad will be right here.”
“She left life behind for our little sister. Of course we have to stay.”
“Mom will be with you too.”
“…Okay.”
Pushing through the scattering maple leaves, I forced my reluctant feet forward for the final farewell.