Doctor on the Edge: Episodes 5-6
by DaebakGrits
While it comes as a surprise to absolutely no one that our hero lives to see another week of showtime, his life on the island remains as turbulent as the sea he fell into. Romantic highs are followed by tragic emotional lows as he finds himself torn between his duty to respect a patient’s wishes and his desire to emotionally support the woman he’s falling in love with.
EPISODES 5-6
Sometime in between falling into the ocean and waking up in the hospital, Ji-eui flashes back to his friend’s funeral. Although we don’t yet know the circumstances of his friend’s death, we know Ji-eui must be carrying a tremendous amount of guilt for not being able to save him. To add insult to emotional injury, Ji-eui’s girlfriend at the time, who’d also witnessed the traumatic death of their friend, had turned to Ji-eui at the funeral and told him that she would forever think of the deceased when she looked at him.
Suffice it to say, I think we all know the inevitable cause of their breakup, but without more context, the ex-girlfriend’s declaration seems rather extreme given the timing. The shared traumatic experience would understandably take a toll on their romantic relationship in the months and years that followed, but the resoluteness of her statement so soon after his death would suggest either a deeper relationship with the deceased — a brother or secret lover? — or that she has a strong (perhaps not a rational) reason to believe Ji-eui’s negligence led to his death. (Or maybe I’m just looking for a deeper meaning and logic where the writers provided none.)
Regardless of any trauma related dreams he may have had while he was unconscious, when Ji-eui wakes up in the hospital, an anxious Ha-ri is at his side, he immediately asks about their patient. The mainland doctor has provided the family with the absolute worst-case scenario, but even with that potentially grim prognosis, it’s unlikely the drama gods would kill her off — not when heavy foreshadowing has already indicated they’ve written another name in their Death Note. (But more on that later…)
In the meantime, Ji-eui has come to the startling realization that he’s alive because Ha-ri jumped into the ocean and rescued him. He’s understandably stupified, especially given how nonchalant she is about her exceptionally heroic actions, but perhaps a contributor to her blasé response is her preoccupation with being the center of hospital gossip. Apparently, Ha-ri used to work at this particular hospital, and a gaggle of mean girl nurses have nothing better to do with their time than talk — openly, I might add — about Ha-ri’s dating life.
It doesn’t help matters that Ha-ri’s ex (cameo by Lee Won-jung), who also works at the hospital, is still obsessed with her. Like, to a point he’s in denial that they ever broke up. The man-child has a full blown temper-tantrum in the middle of the hospital because he refuses to accept that Ha-ri dumped him. When Ji-eui steps in to defend her, he calls her a gold digger in a half-ass misogynistic attempt to ward off his competition, warning that she’ll try to get her fangs into Ji-eui too. But Ji-eui doesn’t give a flying duck about the petty hospital gossip. “I’ve been begging her to get her hooks into me,” he declares. Then, in a boss power move, he straightens the collar of the man-child’s white coat and calmly explains, “Anyone with eyes can see who is the better man. Know your place and get lost.”
While Ha-ri is swooning over Ji-eui’s calm alpha male assertiveness, I’m wondering why everyone at this hospital is so damn unprofessional. Instead of watching the man-child get dumped (for a second time), shouldn’t the mean girl nurses be — oh, I don’t know — doing their jobs and saving lives? To be honest, this whole mini story arc about Ha-ri’s “reputation” feels like a callback to Boys Over Flower era dramas, when everyone was antagonistic towards the leading lady for the sake of conflict, but in a modern professional setting, everything about this scenario feels outdated and unnecessarily juvenile. But I guess the writers really wanted Ha-ri to have her over-coming-her-bullies-to-show-them-who’s-the-better-person moment when she and Ji-eui checked out of the hospital.
After another ferry ride that’s only slightly more tolerable for Ji-eui thanks to Ha-ri’s calming presence, our OTP returns to the island and faces another conflict. You see, Mi-ja found out secondhand that Ha-ri jumped overboard to save Ji-eui in the storm, and she blames Ji-eui for Ha-ri’s choice to dive into the ocean. Ji-eui tries to apologize, but Mi-ja’s blood is boiling so much that she collapses. Ji-eui carries her on his back to the clinic, which means her secret is out and the villagers now know she’s ill.
Chi-yeon is especially upset that Ji-eui knew Mi-ja has cancer and did not disclose her diagnosis because he would have prescribed something different when she came to the clinic for head pain. Chi-yeon’s frustrations mirror Ji-eui’s issues with Jang-soo last week, but in this case, Ji-eui doesn’t feel any remorse for his slightly hypocritical behavior in keeping Mi-ja’s cancer diagnosis from his fellow medical staff. Her cancer is stage four, and she doesn’t want anyone to know about it. So…(*shrugs*)
Chi-yeon, who has already admitted to Mi-ja that he has feelings for Ha-ri, is still (superficially) a rival for her affections. Not only does he have Mi-ja’s approval, but his relationship with Ha-ri is close enough — and ambiguous enough — to stir Ji-eui’s jealousy and deepen his insecurities. Although Chi-yeon and Ha-ri have shared several moments that seem almost like confessions, nothing has ever been stated outright. Without that certainty, Ji-eui remains reluctant to reveal his own feelings — especially after witnessing Ha-ri crying in Chi-yeon’s arms.
Turns out, Chi-yeon had applied for Mi-ja to participate in a clinical trial, and Ha-ri’s recent interactions with him had been to discuss it. At the same time, Ha-ri had noticed that Ji-eui seemed to be putting emotional — and at times physical — distance between them and had assumed he was withdrawing because of the rumors and incidents at the hospital. Instead, Ji-eui confesses that his recent awkwardness stemmed from an entirely different reason: he didn’t want her to realize how attracted he was to her.
Ha-ri responds by kissing Ji-eui. He’s all bug-eyes in shock, and after Ha-ri’s teeth let go of Ji-eui’s bottom lip, she boldly announces that she officially bitten him now, in a playful callback to the moment he stood up for her at the hospital. When she asks where they go from here, Ji-eui answers not with words, but with a kiss of his own. They break away, Ha-ri’s eyes drift to the side, and that’s when she sees her grandmother watching them. Talk about a mood killer.
Despite Mi-ja and Ji-eui being on relatively good terms in last week’s episodes, she’s decidedly not happy to find him canoodling with her granddaughter. Her opinion of him took an obvious nosedive after Ha-ri fished him out of the ocean, but she’s apparently been secretly judging him for a while and has deemed him too weak for her granddaughter. (Yeahhhh, no one’s going to forget how he passed out on the ferry and had to have Ha-ri carry him to the clinic his first day on the island.) He is, in her opinion, not the kind of man who could protect Ha-ri, and while Ji-eui would like to dispute the accusation, he can’t exactly put forth a strong argument when he screams like a terrified prairie dog at the sight of a tiny garden snake.
Up against Chi-yeon, who’s opening stuck jar lids with ease and stepping up to be the clinic’s unofficial security guard whenever unruly patients try to cause a scene, Ji-eui doesn’t stand a chance at winning Mi-ja’s favor. And that’s before Chi-yeon gets Mi-ja accepted into the clinical trial. It’s game over — or so it would seem.
The day comes for Mi-ja to get tested for the trial at the mainland hospital, and it just so happens her trip coincides with Ji-eui’s meeting with Governor Ko. He tries not to have a panic attack on the ferry, but even Mi-ja can’t ignore his obvious discomfort and panic sweats. She moves to sit next to him and hold his hand for the duration of the ferry ride, and in return Ji-eui accompanies her to her doctor’s visit, where she will be tested for her compatibility with the clinical trial. She’s nervous, but instead of sugar coating the situation, Ji-eui frankly tells her that cancer is never easy on the patient. If the trial is too hard, she can say so.
Mi-ja makes it through the first rounds of testing, but a passing encounter with an oncology patient has Mi-ja fleeing and reconsidering her options as she confronts the inevitability of death. After Ji-eui finds her, he assures her that it’s alright to be afraid and explains how he actually found relief from his own fear of the ocean when he confided in Ha-ri. His words of comfort trigger Mi-ja’s tears and she confesses that she’s been in remission, and after defeating cancer the first time, she doesn’t want to go through the treatment process again. What she fears more than death is “spending her final moments looking like an empty shell, neither alive nor dead.” She wants to maintain her quality of life for as long as possible before she passes away. Unfortunately, she knows Ha-ri will be devastated to hear her wishes.
With Mi-ja’s situation in the back of his mind, Ji-eui meets with Governor Ko, but the appointment turns out to be a publicity stunt. Governor Ko uses Ji-eui’s recent emergency boat-ride through the storm as a means of promoting his helipad renovation project — a project that is being expedited to a point Pyeondongdo workers are being abused by their project manager and sustaining injuries. And because he wants to keep Ji-eui on deck for press conferences and meet-and-greets, he has Ji-eui transferred off the island.
A few weeks ago, Ji-eui would have jumped at the chance to be landlocked, but now that Ji-eui is secretly dating Ha-ri, he’s disheartened to leave the island. She shares his disappointment, but she tries to make her feelings with a smile knowing he will be happier now that he won’t have to brave the ocean any more.
He is not, in fact, happier working for Governor Ko. The smarmy politician has Ji-eui so busy with press interviews that Hi-eui has no time to actually perform his duties as a doctor — or, it would seem, connect with Ha-ri, who isn’t answering his calls or texts.
Ji-eui is so frustrated with his new lot in life that he uses a live broadcast to politely express his desire to return to Pyeongdongdo and continue to treat patients. Although the declaration puts him on Governor Ko’s shit list, it is highly effective at getting him transferred back to the island. His return coincides with an emergency fall patient at the docks, and he immediately jumps in to reset and splint the compound fracture. (I’m not normally squeamish, but this scene was a little too painfully graphic for even me.)
It’s only after the patient is transferred to the mainland by EMS that Ji-eui notices Ha-ri is more reserved than usual, and not in a trying-to-hide-their-relationship kind of way either. When they finally get some alone time, she confronts him for withholding the fact that her grandmother “gave up on life.” Ha-ri knows, as a doctor, Ji-eui feels compelled to respect his patient’s wishes, but as her boyfriend, she asks him to try and persuade Mi-ja to complete the clinical trial. Ji-eui solemnly and politely refuses, and Ha-ri walks away.
After this week’s episodes, it’s becoming increasingly clear that this drama is struggling not only with pacing issues but also with an inability to maintain a focused narrative. From the outset, Ji-eui’s PTSD, his romance with Ha-ri, and Mi-ja’s illness were established as the story’s central threads. Yet two of those three storylines have been pushed aside in favor of an abundance of filler content.
Six episodes in, Ji-eui’s past remains largely a mystery, leaving one of the drama’s most compelling conflicts frustratingly underdeveloped despite its importance to his character arc. Given the funeral flashback and hints about a previous relationship, one would also expect his past experiences to influence his budding romance with Ha-ri. So far, however, the drama has shown little interest in exploring those connections. Instead, Ji-eui and Ha-ri’s relationship has progressed at breakneck speed. After only a few days of dating, they have already weathered their first major conflict—a predictable consequence of two people who barely know each other trying to navigate significant differences in perspective and unresolved emotional baggage.
Mi-ja’s illness, meanwhile, is the only storyline that feels properly paced and thoughtfully executed. The gradual reveal that Mi-ja—not Ha-ri—was the one diagnosed with cancer was effective, and once her condition became clear, the writers began exploring the complex emotions that accompany such a diagnosis: the fear, uncertainty, and guilt that can arise when your loved ones’ happiness depends on your ability to endure painful treatments and keep fighting.
It’s undeniably heavy material, so I understand the writers’ desire to lighten the mood with occasional comedic moments, such as the garden snake incident, or to further fuel the love-triangle dynamic by linking Ha-ri’s hopes to Chi-yeon’s ability to secure Mi-ja a spot in a clinical trial. However, much of this week’s additional content felt unnecessary. First, there was the one-night-stand-turned-secondary-couple, whose scenes were so painfully awkward that I couldn’t bring myself to include their argument over shoes—a thinly veiled metaphor for their socioeconomic differences—in this recap. Then there were the eye-roll-inducing hospital mean girls, and now it appears Governor Ko is being positioned as yet another antagonist nobody asked for. Whatever happened to medical dramas filling their airtime with meaningful patient stories?
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