紅鼻子醫生日記 – 一場特別的歡送會

At that moment, the child’s mother suddenly called softly to me, “Where is Nunu’s owl, A-Jin? Didn’t we see A-Jin flying very, very high last time?”

I suddenly realized, “Ah! The child lying in the bed is the little one I had met before, the one who laughed so heartily when my owl puppet played the game of looking for food with him.”

I hadn’t brought A-Jin with me in my prop bag.

My mind went blank, so I could only reply, “Oh dear! A-Jin is so mischievous. I wonder where he flew off to?”

The mother gently said into the child’s ear, “Then you must find A-Jin in the sky and bring him back to Nunu!”

(The picture shows Nunu and A-Jin)

I had been a clown doctor for five years. Having encountered all kinds of people, my state of mind had also undergone various changes. The experience that changed my perspective was a farewell party I will never forget.

“End-of-life companionship?” When I heard those words from the other end of the phone, I repeated them to myself.

It was a call from the association asking whether I could take on this performance assignment. They have great respect for us as Red Nose Doctors; if we feel we are not mentally prepared, we can completely decline. At the time, I agreed without giving it much thought. Maintaining my professionalism, I hoped to serve every child as much as possible.

On the day of the performance, the case manager patiently and carefully explained the day’s procedures to us, and only then did my partners and I truly feel that we would soon be going onstage. “The child is already in a state of critical decline and will be extubated this afternoon,” the case manager said. Before the performance, we also learned that he was a little fan of the Red Nose Doctors, so his parents hoped that we would interact with him just as we did during our usual performances. After putting on our red noses, my partners and I began warming up energetically, preparing to start.

Once we put on our red noses, a child is simply a child, and the person before me was someone I wanted to share this world with. We entered the hospital room in a musical parade. The father and mother warmly greeted the clowns and told the child lying in the bed, “The clown doctors are here! There are three of them!” Within my line of sight was a group of relatives and friends swaying along with our music while unable to hold back their tears. And the focus of everyone’s attention was a very small, thin body. Gift cards had long since gathered around him, and beside his tiny body, the gifts appeared especially enormous.

At that moment, the child’s mother suddenly called softly to me, “Where is Nunu’s owl, A-Jin? Didn’t we see A-Jin flying very, very high last time?”

I suddenly realized, “Ah! The child lying in the bed is the little one I had met before, the one who laughed so heartily when my owl puppet played the game of looking for food with him.”

I hadn’t brought A-Jin with me in my prop bag.

My mind went blank, so I could only reply, “Oh dear! A-Jin is so mischievous. I wonder where he flew off to?”

The mother gently said into the child’s ear, “Then you must find A-Jin in the sky and bring him back to Nunu!”

We looked at each other and smiled. I was very grateful that she had rescued me when I didn’t know how to respond. But as I looked at the child on the bed, the one I remembered, I realized that I was afraid this might be my farewell to him. Without A-Jin in my hands, I felt tears surge into my heart. It was very bitter, filled with unshakeable regret.

I carried this inner conflict with me for more than another year. One time, during a break while May and I were being interviewed together, I told her this story. I said that it felt as though there were a knot in my heart, and I constantly felt sorry for this child and his family. I had held back my tears during the performance and felt truly troubled by it.

May said to me, “Why hold back your tears? Clown doctors are people too. Don’t disregard your feelings in the moment; crying is natural.”

She also recalled that during her career as a clown doctor, she too had been afraid of saying goodbye. But later, she changed her perspective: Whenever we put on our red noses and meet everyone, we play together wholeheartedly. Perhaps that is the way we cherish each other’s existence most.

As soon as I heard her words, my tears nearly fell, and I felt the knot in my heart loosen.

That’s right! Looking back on the times the clowns interacted with everyone at the hospital, they were all sincere exchanges between one another. Playing wholeheartedly in the present moment is a truly wonderful thing. And it is precisely because we cherish these moments that saying goodbye is so difficult.

Whenever I think of that farewell party, I feel deeply honored to have, as Nunu, said goodbye to the clowns’ friend—my friend. I will carefully keep the times we laughed together in my heart. And as for tears, next time I feel like shedding them, I will let them fall naturally!