Code of Disjointed Letters: ( Doomsday Will Arise From the Past (13 page)

Watching him, I recognized an Oktay beyond my control, divided into multiple personalities. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I didn’t have any strength left. So, when I finally saw the character of Oktay reappear and begin to speak, I pulled him to me and asked, “What are you doing? Enough! I can’t take it anymore!” I started to cry. One of his other characters returned, and I fought with him as he tried to calm me down.

I kicked the chair covered with blankets that was supposed to be the camera and upended the discussion table. I pushed lit lamps to the floor, and their electrical cables emitted little sparks. I had the right to lose myself, too. This was too much!

Oktay walked up to me, and, while trying to hold me, he slapped my face.

I froze.

My nose and mouth were covered in blood and my feelings shifted between anger and hopelessness as the salt from my tears mixed with my blood. Oktay was shocked and stood in front of me unable to speak. He finally mumbled something but then fell silent again. I took a deep breath and wiped the tears and blood from my face with the back of my hand.

I took Oktay’s hand, led him to his room, and made him lie down on the bed. Putting Oktay to bed was like carrying a full glass of water. His situation was critical, and I knew that the slightest mistake would cause the glass to overflow. I had to put him down safely without allowing my hands to tremble.

When I returned to the living room, I surveyed the memories of the night’s violent episode.

I slowly put the room back in order. First, I picked up the lamps and chords, then removed all the papers from the table and walls. When I was done, I observed the living room for a moment and turned out the lights. With a tissue covered in dry blood, I sat by the window until morning.

In the morning, I was worn out. Not just from fatigue but also from the decision I had made. I called Turgay and explained everything to him. He was alarmed, and I calmed him down. At that moment, I felt like someone who had to calm everyone down.

“Turgay,” I said, “you must arrange for hospitalization. I’ll pack his stuff and take him there.” I knew I had to prevent Turgay from coming to the house. If Oktay saw him at home, especially after such a night, it would be a disaster. I convinced him by saying that if anyone but me took Oktay, they would hurt him and wouldn’t understand his condition.

I tidied up the living room a bit, putting Oktay’s things aside. I opened the door of his room and cuddled next to him in bed. I knew it was the last time, and I hugged him tightly and buried his head in my bosom. I stayed still in the room with the curtains closed, caressing his head.

God, you see all. Stop the time; let your servants smile…

I do not know how much time passed before we woke up. Staring at me, he listened as if he would believe everything I said. I told him that last night’s TV show had made incredible ratings, that the telephone lines were all tied up, and that everyone had listened enthusiastically to everything that he had said about the book. The TV channel, having seen the ratings, had now decided to create a new program where everyone involved would have a chance to display his or her talent.

I told him the show was called BBM and would be full of conspicuous characters, including Oktay himself. I explained how he would get famous and, more precisely, get more opportunities and time to promote his thoughts and his book. I explained that the program would last for a few weeks (with the possibility of elimination).

God, how happy he was! He confessed to me that he’d expected something like that to happen but hadn’t told me. After all, he had performed miracles last night. I made him sit opposite the living-room window while I packed his stuff. I left the window half-open so that he would get some air and relief. As for him, he took a piece of paper to study and sat, waiting for me. When I finished, I went back to the living room. He was sitting on the edge of his chair with his face toward the window. The wind, through the half-opened window, carried a few raindrops.

I slowly put my hand on his shoulder. “Everything is ready,” I said. After a pause, he stood up and closed the window. He came to the living room and checked his things one by one. Then he hugged me, and I couldn’t resist burying my head on his shoulder to give him some warmth. I was looking for an opportunity to cry on his shoulder for the last time, to touch him, to lose myself in him.

While I dressed him with clean underwear and newly washed, casual clothes, he was as excited as a child starting school. Holding hands, we went to the parking lot, pulled by his leaping steps.

As we navigated the heavy traffic, Oktay sat in the car excitedly, his joy indefinable. When he reached out to switch the radio channel, I had a feeling of acceptance and calmed down a bit. I could do nothing now, so I looked at him for a while. A melancholy piece of happiness flashed through me. I loved him. For a moment, I wanted to tell him to forget it all and come home with me. I felt the urge to simply hold him and talk. But the urge to do my share for both of us, and the truth of life, calmed all my thoughts and feelings.

“
After the show last night,” Oktay said, “the host committed suicide. Did you know that?”

I looked over at him and realized I should play along.

“Yes…yes,” I said. “He committed suicide, right after the show.”

“He was a loser, anyway,” Oktay continued. “It seemed like it was his sole purpose to host a one-night program and disappear, and he did it quietly without disturbing anyone. Hasan Tahsin was his own worst enemy,” he added with a laugh.

“We have to thank him,” I said. “By his suicide, he drew a lot of media attention to the show…”

I didn’t know what else to say. I was deep in my thoughts, and Oktay was in an inexpressible state of happiness as the car approached the hospital.

…

When we arrived at the hospital, I handed Oktay to the psychiatrist. He went into the ward with the same childlike happiness.

“I love you. See you soon,” he said.

I had been waiting for a more dramatic farewell than “I love you. See you soon,” but he had already disappeared behind the hospital’s door, and the door had no handle. The doctor asked me to tell him my thoughts and what I knew. As I was telling him what came to my mind, I found that I wasn’t myself anymore. A piece of me was melting away in the hospital ward. The doctor and I conferred on the treatment and he told me the rules of the ‘game.’ I could visit once a week, but all communication with the patient was forbidden—oh, and of course, there were a few documents to sign.

I went home to the sacred sanctuary of our memories. I was now alone and felt Oktay’s absence deeply. My only other feeling was despair.

When visiting hours came on Wednesday, I raced to the hospital. Sitting face-to-face with him at the table in that cold, white room, I listened to him with sorrow and longing. He was telling me his situation with shining eyes; his self-confidence was back, and his posture was upright. When I left the interview room, I didn’t know what to do with the pain of losing him again and again. I thought that he was looking better, and I was relieved that he was in safe hands. I hoped everything would get better and that my love would come back to me.

The time passed slowly and senselessly until I went running to the next visit. First, I talked to the doctor, who repeated at every opportunity that, if needed, he was at my disposal. Then I spoke to Oktay, who told me that the show had improved and they’d eliminated one of the ill characters in the weekend challenge. Oktay accepted this positively, saying that everything was okay and under control.

Bursting with happiness, I headed for home. I realized that the hospital’s doctors were competent experts, and I regretted pushing the process back and causing delays that might have hurt Oktay. I couldn’t wait for the next visit.

At the next visit, I was shocked. Although they had tried to cover it up with dressings, Oktay was in terrible condition. He had been seriously beaten. Unable to comprehend what he was telling to me, I ran to the doctor. The doctor wanted me to sit so that he could explain and calm me down.

Apparently, one of the characters that Oktay had created turned out to be the devil and had caused Oktay to hurt himself seriously the night before.

“How did it happen?” I asked. “Was it something expected?”

“
Though with difficulty, it is now under our control,” he explained. “We’ve taken all precautions against future possible incidents.”

I returned home in sorrow with doubts in my head. Still, I had hope. However, upon my next visit, I found out that Oktay had now gone into a deep depressive state. He wasn’t talking to anyone and had completely stopped communicating. The doctor told me this was an expected, though undesirable, situation: A heavy depression would appear in such transition periods, and it would be cured.

In spite of all my insistence and requests to see Oktay, the doctor only showed me the live image of his room. Oktay was sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at a piece of paper with a square on the wall. As the doctor said, he had been like that for a while; he repeated that this was a transition stage and that it would disappear.

With a mix of sorrow and a bit of hope, I went home.

After that, my access to Oktay was restricted. When I called to get some information each day, the doctor was either away on medical visits or he simply told me, “Everything is okay.” When I insisted on an unscheduled visit, he asked me for understanding. He warned me against intervening in the treatment process.

Too much time had passed. Everything was crashing in on me, and I was trying to melt the time away by taking in the scenery outside of my house. It was December 21 and I did my best to ignore all the speeches about the end of the world.

Around 4:00 in the morning, I awoke to the phone ringing.

“You don’t need to come now,” a voice said on the other end of the line. This was the last thing I remembered hearing before I dropped the phone.

Oktay was dead. (22.12.2012, 03:14.)

* * *

From the Psychiatrist’s Personal Notebook:

Today, Elif reached me again through Dr. Turgay—the patient’s brother.

The patient’s condition has clearly deteriorated and reached a level that cannot be controlled anymore. She agreed to hospitalization.

Detail 1:
Potential acute schizophrenia. Symptoms appear in the patient’s medical history for some time. The condition was overlooked most likely due to patient’s medical profession (Members of patient’s family are doctors as well). I have informed the family of the necessary legal procedures and have disallowed visitation by the patient’s brother in order to avoid contradictory consultation. Preventing interference is of paramount importance.

Detail 2
: A new symptom (multiple personality pathology) has been added to the diagnosis. Disease has progressed significantly with increases in episodic style, excessive alcohol consumption (within pathological limits), indulgence in virtual environments (beyond the pathological limits), smoking addiction (one pack/day), escape from the growing social community, five or six years of increase in asocial symptoms, significant delays in labor for two years, and an inability to work for the last six months.

The patient engages in full self-disclosure when depressed, shows an overindulgence in metaphysical books and visual materials, and recently more religiously-oriented materials (obsessive-compulsive?). The latest obsession: the presence of a code in the holy book. He is beginning to write a book on this subject (indicator of needed social expansion?). Extensive isolation during the writing process. Contact with only one person (Elif). Having a single mediator could have aggravated the situation.

Detail 3:
Patient demonstrated physical aggression and a tendency for battery. (Ms. Elif did not state this, but the condition of her nose and mouth is evidence.)

Detail 4:
Due to Ms. Elif’s subjectivity and her long-lasting interaction with the patient (maybe an obsessive love?), when necessary, tell Ms. Elif about this challenging situation and its course. Offer therapy sessions for the caregivers of the patient if necessary. Examine her rejection of the incidents/disease, and how it affects treatment.

Detail 5:
In his latest delusion, the patient thought he was discussing his opinions with panel of characters he created (Elif described five or more personalities) on an invented TV show program on which he was promoting his book. When the patient becomes one of the characters (the cleric?) he gets aggressive.

[Note: Ms. Elif said there was another character on the TV show, a host, but the very next day Oktay “killed him.” If this delusion did occur, pay attention to Oktay’s ability to destroy the characters he creates. Possible treatment method?]

Detail 6:
Ms. Elif proposed an ingenious idea of a
Big Brother
competition so that the patient would come to the hospital without any objection, and the characteristic multiple personalities could be observed together; hence, the delusion of the patient of a competition program needs to be supported.