Part 12 (2/2)

The next day I was taken to a hospital in Pyongyang. Mr. Yee remarked that I was becoming a true North Korean because I was going to experience North Korea's fine medical treatment. The hospital was clean but spa.r.s.ely furnished. The dim hallways were empty, and I didn't see any other patients around. I was introduced to one of the medical directors, a short, middle-aged woman doctor with a gentle manner. She asked me about my ulcer and examined my stomach area. I winced as she lightly pressed into my upper abdomen.

Speaking through Mr. Baek, she explained that I needed to undergo an endoscopic procedure to look into my stomach and check for ulcers. This was familiar to me because I had gone through several stomach ”scopes” in the United States. The process involved having a doctor place a thin tube down my throat into my stomach area. At the end of the tube was a small lens that sent images back to a computer monitor. I was given anesthesia during these procedures in the United States, so I never felt a thing.

I looked around the room at the limited and outdated equipment, and suddenly became frightened that this procedure might not go the same way as the ones I'd had in the United States.

”I'm a little nervous,” I told the director. ”I'm not so sure it's a good idea to do the scope. Will I be given anesthesia to put me under?”

”It will feel just like it did in the United States,” she a.s.sured me.

”Well, back home, I didn't feel a thing because of the anesthesia. Can you make sure to give me some?” I said nervously.

Mr. Baek, sensing my jitters, chimed in, ”You really are a baby girl, aren't you!”

He was using the affectionate nickname Lisa called me in her letters, which told me he had read them. This didn't really bother me. Mr. Baek always had such a kind, jovial way about him. I was even happy that he knew so much about my family and friends. It made me feel more connected to him.

”Yes, I am a big baby,” I said sheepishly.

A nurse arrived and escorted me, along with Mr. Baek, to an operating room where I was given a shot, which I was told was an anesthetic. But rather than numbing my senses, it just made me feel dizzy. I watched as a doctor prepared the instrument that would be placed inside me. It looked more like a hose than the narrow tubing I remembered from past procedures.

A plastic apparatus was placed in my mouth to keep it lodged open. I braced myself as I saw the doctor coming toward me with the thick black tubing, which he inserted down my throat. The feeling of the instrument making its way down into my body was so agonizing it sent me writhing. Several nurses rushed to my side and pinned me down. I continued to gag in pain, unable to scream because of the plastic device. I began coughing and releasing large gusts of air through my throat.

One by one, several doctors took turns looking down the hose into my stomach and consulting with one another while I continued to struggle on the table. Periodically they s.h.i.+fted the hose to look at different sections of my belly. Drops of sweat fell from my forehead. I clenched my fists together, closed my eyes, and thought of Iain. Please help me get through this, baby, Please help me get through this, baby, I thought. Finally the doctors began pulling the hose back up and through my mouth. I sighed deeply in relief. I thought. Finally the doctors began pulling the hose back up and through my mouth. I sighed deeply in relief.

After the procedure, I was led into the medical director's office, where she was sitting with the prosecutor from the trial. I cringed at the sight of him but forced myself to bow toward him respectfully. He nodded with a slight snarl and motioned for me to take a seat. According to the medical director, my ulcer was quite serious, and I had developed several stomach lesions. She recommended that before I was sent to the labor camp, I be given a few weeks under a doctor's supervision.

”She doesn't look like she's in any pain!” the prosecutor yelled. ”My wife has an ulcer and can function just fine.”

In a calm, even-toned voice, the medical director refuted the prosecutor's a.s.sessment and made her opinion clear. She did not think I should be sent to prison just yet. I looked at her with deep grat.i.tude.

”You can leave now!” the prosecutor said gruffly, waving his hands in the air. I followed Mr. Baek out of the room, where Mr. Yee was waiting to take me back to the compound.

Afterward, Mr. Yee told me I would remain at the compound and was being placed in medical detention until I was deemed fit to go to the labor camp. I wondered if this was part of a plan to allow more time for my government to act.

”We are not giving you any special treatment,” he said, as if reading my mind. ”This is part of our legal process. Everyone sentenced to prison needs to go through a full medical checkup to see if he or she is capable of performing labor. Your medical detention is only temporary. It might last a week or longer.”

”What about Euna?” I asked, worried that the doctors might not have found anything to prevent her from being sent to prison.

”She is very weak,” Mr. Yee explained. ”She has some arthritis. I don't think she can go to prison. But they are still deliberating on her case. Your situation has been decided. I don't know about hers.”

LISA.

I WOKE UP EARLY ON WOKE UP EARLY ON June 16 to news that the Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) had released details of the charges against Laura and Euna. The report indicated that both of them had admitted to engaging in criminal activity. June 16 to news that the Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) had released details of the charges against Laura and Euna. The report indicated that both of them had admitted to engaging in criminal activity.

The timing was interesting, given that South Korea's president, Lee Myung-bak, happened to be visiting the United States that day and would soon be meeting with President Obama at the White House. It seemed like a deliberate attempt to upstage the highly publicized meeting. High on their list of priorities was to discuss how to deal with North Korea's nuclear ambitions.

The list of charges delivered on this day would surely be distracting and would remind the United States that North Korea had two of its own. Part of the KCNA statement read, ”At the trial, the accused admitted that what they did were criminal acts, prompted by a political motive to isolate and stifle the socialist system of North Korea, by faking moving images aimed at falsifying its human rights performance and hurling slanders and calumnies at it.”

I lay in bed wondering what this all meant. I e-mailed Kurt Tong and Al Gore and asked them to try to ask President Obama to treat our issue delicately if asked about it during the press conference on the White House lawn with President Lee. Gore responded that he would try to get the right language into the president's talking points by phoning people he knew in Obama's inner circle. I just didn't want a repeat of the time Secretary Clinton called the charges against Laura and Euna ”baseless,” publicly calling into question North Korea's legal system.

At the press conference, when a question was asked about the American journalists inside North Korea, President Lee responded by calling on the North Korean government to release the girls along with a South Korean Hyundai worker also being held. Mom, Iain, and I had practically affixed ourselves to the screen to hear our president. We knew his every utterance regarding North Korea was being watched and scrutinized by those holding my sister. Words mean everything. In calculatedly stern remarks, President Obama left the door open for North Korea to come back to the negotiating table.

”There is another path available to North Korea, a path that leads to peace and economic opportunity for North Korea, including full members.h.i.+p in the community of nations,” President Obama said. We could only hope the North Koreans would agree to come through the door.

Not long after the sentence was delivered, rumors had started swirling about Al Gore being sent as an intermediary to bring Laura and Euna home. The general consensus was that he would be a great choice to engage the North Koreans. But other than one interview with CNN's John Roberts, in which he said he would do whatever it took to bring the girls home, Gore never spoke about the situation publicly. He maintained that North Korea had to be dealt with sensitively, and whatever diplomatic efforts took place had to be conducted privately. The former vice president seemed to be making progress. During our Friday conference calls with Kurt and the State Department team, we were led to believe that Gore's people were speaking and possibly even meeting with representatives of North Korea; it was something.

Meanwhile, it had been some time since I'd spoken with Governor Richardson. I had gone from talking to him once, sometimes twice, a day to speaking with him every week if that. After a while, he knew something was up. It was the beginning of the third week of June when I got a call from the governor.

”I think I'm being edged out,” Governor Richardson called me to say. ”I think they're going with Al. Have you heard anything?”

”Uh, I really haven't heard anything specific,” I responded.

I wasn't lying, but I wasn't being entirely truthful with him. I felt sick that I was straddling both camps, but I didn't feel like I had a choice; my sister's future was at stake. Though I know he would have helped regardless of whether or not he had been asked officially, this probably would have restored Governor Richardson to the national and world stages. I truly wished he could have had that chance. But it was becoming clearer and clearer that his role in our situation had been usurped.

Meanwhile, on the Gore front, no one-including the former vice president-could confirm anything with absolute authority. But there at least seemed to be communication. Kurt told us that State Department sources indicated that a Gore visit was being considered, but nothing was definitive yet. We didn't know whom the ”sources” were talking to; we were just told that we would have to wait. Waiting. It's all we seemed to be doing.

Though our mom was an emotional wreck throughout the ordeal, at least we were all around to keep her company. During this time, Paul suggested I fly up to Sacramento to spend a couple of days with my dad. He had made several trips down south to be with all of us at our mom's house, but he had his own house to maintain and appointments to attend to back home. I noticed the toll that Laura's absence had taken on our dad when I went for a visit. While at his house, I wrote this in a letter to Laura about him: ...I'm sitting on Dad's black leather couch in Sac. He has aged a lot in the last few months. He tries to be his usual silly self, but there is an emptiness about him that is undeniable. He sits and just stares out of the window for long periods of time without saying a word. When you return, we have to make more of an effort to come see him; it means the world to him....

LAURA.

I HAD BEEN PERSISTENTLY BEGGING HAD BEEN PERSISTENTLY BEGGING to call my family, and later in June I was told that in a few days I could make another set of phone calls to them. I was overjoyed. As before, Mr. Yee asked what I planned to talk about. I told him I wanted to update them on my medical condition and tell them they had to act quickly before we were sent to a labor camp. to call my family, and later in June I was told that in a few days I could make another set of phone calls to them. I was overjoyed. As before, Mr. Yee asked what I planned to talk about. I told him I wanted to update them on my medical condition and tell them they had to act quickly before we were sent to a labor camp.

”Your family will want to know if you have been moved to another location,” he said. ”All you need to tell them is that you are now in medical detention and being treated fine.”

I was escorted back to the Yanggakdo Hotel with Mr. Yee and Mr. Baek. Aside from being transported to and from the trial, I had only been taken outside the compound grounds on three occasions-twice to meet with Amba.s.sador Foyer and once to call my family. Each time the car exited the iron gate, the guard dog jumped and yelped hysterically. The hotel couldn't have been more than a few miles from the compound because the drive seemed to last only about five or ten minutes.

Inside the hotel conference room, Mr. Yee told me I could speak to Lisa and Iain for approximately ten to fifteen minutes, but I had to make my calls to my mother and father briefer. I dialed my mother's number and began to choke up the second I heard a ringing tone.

I knew I didn't want to tell my parents anything about my medical condition. I was more concerned about their health than mine. When my mom asked about my ulcer, I simply replied, ”I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me, just take care of yourself.”

”I'm going to make your favorite watercress soup when you come home. And I know it will happen soon,” my mom said.

When I called my father at his home in Sacramento, his voice started to quiver once he realized it was me on the line.

”You have to be strong. Your dad loves you,” he said, referring to himself in the third person as he often does.

Hearing my mother's and father's anguish was too much to bear. I hung up the phone and started wailing.

When it was time to call Lisa and Iain, I knew I had to get it together emotionally. I saw my conversations with them not only as a rare chance to express my love, but also as an invaluable opportunity to send and receive messages that could be crucial to getting me home.

I'm sure I was given more time with Lisa and Iain because speaking with them was one of the only ways the North Koreans could let the U.S. government know what they wanted in return for our release. I tried to give them both roughly the same information as a way of making sure nothing was lost.

As Mr. Yee had suspected, one of the first questions they each asked was ”Have you been moved?” I tried to deflect the question, while a.s.suring them I was okay. I took a risk in telling Iain, ”Don't worry, baby, I still look at the sky every morning at our nine A.M. A.M. meeting time and think of you.” I hoped this subtle hint would not make the authorities mad. meeting time and think of you.” I hoped this subtle hint would not make the authorities mad.

LISA.

ON J JUNE 21, 21, MY PHONE RANG. MY PHONE RANG. It had been two weeks since the severest sentence imaginable was handed down to Laura and Euna, and we had not heard a word about how they were doing since. The press was speculating that they might have been moved. One theory suggested that they had been sent to a prison in Pyongsong, one of the three cities I had visited during my trip to North Korea. My family was gravely concerned about Laura's state of mind, given the harshness of the sentence. We were traumatized ourselves and couldn't even imagine how Laura was feeling after learning that she might not see her family again for more than a decade. It had been two weeks since the severest sentence imaginable was handed down to Laura and Euna, and we had not heard a word about how they were doing since. The press was speculating that they might have been moved. One theory suggested that they had been sent to a prison in Pyongsong, one of the three cities I had visited during my trip to North Korea. My family was gravely concerned about Laura's state of mind, given the harshness of the sentence. We were traumatized ourselves and couldn't even imagine how Laura was feeling after learning that she might not see her family again for more than a decade.

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