Doctor on the Edge: Episodes 3-4
by DaebakGrits
Romance, rumors, and personal insecurities complicate life on the island this week, distracting more than one medical professional from their duties and, in some cases, compromising patient care. As gossip fuels misunderstandings, a life-threatening storm forces our leading man to confront his fear of the ocean in the most dramatic way possible.
EPISODES 3-4
When we last saw our hero, Ji-eui was feeling pretty good about himself and his recent accomplishments. In his first couple of days on the island, he’d saved the village chief, Chun-sik, from a cardiothoracic incident and coaxed a reclusive patient into seeking proper treatment for his diabetes. And, on a more personal level, he’d found a friend in Ha-ri, who genuinely wanted to help him overcome his PTSD and fear of the ocean. Not a bad start for a guy who initially dreaded being stationed on a remote island.
But, of course, this wouldn’t be a rural village-life K-drama without some hijinks, and they come in the form of Chun-sik, who is no longer singing the good doctor’s praises. Instead, he surprise-attacks Ji-eui and dumps (what looks like) a bucket of chum over Ji-eui’s head in a fit of rage. Apparently, Chun-sik’s insurance company won’t pay his 15 million won medical bill because his helicopter flight and mainland visit weren’t deemed enough of an emergency. As a result, Chun-sik demands compensation from Ji-eui, the doctor who wouldn’t mind his own business and prescribe him the indigestion medicine he’d requested. Ji-eui stands by his choice, though, responding that a delay in treatment would have resulted in an insurance payout of a different kind — a life insurance payout.
Although Ji-eui has the last word and the medically ethical high ground, Chun-sik won’t drop the matter and proceeds to use his position as the village head to engage in passive-aggressive warfare in order to make Ji-eui — and the clinic staff caught in the crosshairs — miserable. Chun-sik’s little temper tantrums, however, aren’t the only source of chaos for our hero and his island companions. One of Ju-cheon’s patients brings in a giant jar of honey bees because she heard bee therapy would be a good treatment for her knees, and the jar (predictably) breaks when nurse Jeong-seon decides to tease bee-phobic Ju-cheon and tempt the god of comedic misfortune.
The only thing surprising about the resulting bee outbreak is that Chi-yeon is the one who ultimately steps up and purges the clinic of the poor pollinators. Up to this point, he’s not exactly been the most proactive member of the clinic’s staff, and rumor has it that his minimalist work ethic stems from a recent lawsuit in which he found himself battling not only the family of a patient who died while he was saving another patient, but also the surviving patient. Anecdotally, Chi-yeon supposedly came to the conclusion that residents of small towns, like Pyeondongdo, stick together when faced against outsiders, and Ji-eui, shaken by the possibility of a malpractice suit, decides to take a page from Chi-yeon’s book and do the bare minimum, giving his patients exactly what they ask for even if it may not be the treatment he’d normally recommend.
Ironically, just when Ji-eui begins to dial it in and disappoint Ha-ri, who bitingly chides him that she “almost mistook [him] for a good doctor,” Chi-yeon decides to reinvent himself. Hmmm…It seems like he’s pulling a Reverse Uno card now that Ha-ri is on the island. And, sure enough, even though he’d previously swore he’d never do house calls again, he jumps at the chance to boat over to another island with Ha-ri for a pop-up health clinic, where their primary patient for the day is a feisty little dog who has become a surrogate son to his owner after she tragically lost her real son several years earlier. When the dog suffers a painful splinter in his belly, Chi-yeon and Ha-ri miss the last ferry back to Pyeondongdo while trying to subdue their furry patient with peanut butter long enough to treat the wound.
Back in Pyeondongdo, Ji-eui overhears that Chi-yeon and Ha-ri will be spending the night on the other island. Together. Alone. Possibly sharing a single room — because that’s the trope from 1980s films (and modern K-dramas). While Ju-cheon narrates, all the scandalous possibilities of what could happen between a man and woman forced to cohabitate for a night play out via a comedic reenactment, featuring throwback costumes and overexaggerated voice acting and sound effects. It’s hilarious — but not to Ji-eui, who is definitely feeling some sort of way about Ha-ri spending the night with Chi-yeon.
He needn’t worry, though, because reality only slightly mimics the fantasy Ju-cheon cooked up. Yes, Chi-yeon and Ha-ri share a casual drink, but it’s far less romantic — at least from Ha-ri’s perspective — than the imagined alternative. Instead, Chi-yeon admits that he’d met Ha-ri briefly when they’d both jumped into action to provide emergency treatment for a car accident victim, and afterwards, when Chi-yeon had picked up her cell phone and offered it to her, she’d hilariously assumed he was asking for her phone number.
The flashback is honestly a solid meet-cute, and coupled with the scene of the dog licking peanut butter off of Chi-yeon’s saran-wrapped head, I feel myself developing a bit of second lead syndrome. Ok, I may be falling more than a little bit, because the expression on Chi-yeon’s face when, in the middle of the night, a sleeping Ha-ri stretches across his makeshift room divider and invades his personal space — yeah, I’m going to need the antidote for SLS stat!
Meanwhile, Ji-eui distracts himself from his budding jealousy by completing the chore (re: more hazing from Chun-sik) of delivering packages to the villagers. His last package is addressed to Ha-ri, and as he approaches her house, he overhears her grandmother, OH MI-JA (Gil Hae-yeon), talking to Ha-ri on the phone. Of course, Ji-eui is going to eavesdrop, but he rolls a Natural 1 on stealth and immediately trips over a metal pot, alerting Mi-ja of his presence. She comes out swinging, but she calms down after recognizing Ji-eui as the doctor who’d given her pain medication earlier. When she sees he scraped his arm during his stumble, she invites him inside to patch him up, and while she applies the appointment, he asks about her need for painkillers. She admits to having headaches, and Ji-eui gives her his cell phone number so she can contact him if she can’t make it to the clinic.
The next day, Ji-eui is so caught up thinking about Ha-ri (namely why she hasn’t reported for work yet), that he’s distracted from his patients. Jang-soo has returned, and the 30-day dose of cough medication that Ji-eui prescribed at his request is no longer cutting it. He asks for something stronger, so Ji-eui, still in his whatever-the-patient-wants-the-patient-gets era, prescribes some NSAIDs. What Ji-eui didn’t know — because Jang-soo’s patient file hadn’t been updated in the system — was that Jang-soo had recently had a heart attack. And, well, NSAIDs are a big no-no for patients with heart problems.
After learning about Jang-soo’s condition through a casual conversation with Shin-hye, Ji-eui immediately rushes after him, and Jang-soo, completely unaware of the commotion he has caused, happily rides his moped home with Ji-eui frantically pursues him in his slippers. By the time Ji-eui catches up with him outside his house, Ji-eui is breathless and thoroughly annoyed. He wastes no time lecturing Jang-soo on the importance of disclosing his medical history during appointments, emphasizing that doctors can only help if they have the full picture. Ji-eui also discovers that Jang-soo’s chronic cough is a side effect of medication his daughter-in-law has been giving him. He then takes away the NSAIDs and promises to prescribe a different treatment instead. Although taken aback by the scolding, Jang-soo is touched by the lengths Ji-eui went to out of concern for his health.
Ji-eui, however, is left grappling with guilt over how badly he’s neglected his patients lately. The realization is driven home when Ha-ri returns to the clinic with Chun-sik. Turns out, Chun-sik’s insurance company had been trying to unjustly deny his claim, but Ha-ri had taken it upon herself to sort out the issue and ensure that his medical expenses would be covered. Witnessing her dedication forces Ji-eui to confront an uncomfortable truth about his own actions. In his frantic chase after Jang-soo, his primary concern had not been the patient’s well-being, but the possibility that he could be held liable for prescribing the wrong medication. Compared to Ha-ri’s selfless efforts on behalf of Chun-sik, his motives feel embarrassingly self-serving, and he admits to Ha-ri that he feels deeply ashamed.
Sensing Ji-eui needs some cheering up, Ha-ri takes him to a special spot where they can view fireflies. The beauty and intimacy of the moment encourages Ji-eui to ask Ha-ri why she went with Chi-yeon to the other island, and she explains that the other island was an hour-long boat ride away. Without an alternate land route, she went with Chi-yeon for Ji-eui’s sake. However, she also senses from his question that it’s all right for her to admit that she kind of regrets her decision. She (**looks pointedly at him**) would have rather gone with him. Ji-eui, despite his phobia, tells her he will go with her next time.
Romantically, things seem to be heating up rather fast between our OTP, so in order to cool things off a bit mother nature unleashes a downpour. And while Ji-eui and Ha-ri’s jaunt through the rain is objectively less intimate, it’s still cute as hell. Both are glowing afterwards, and the flirtiness continues the next day when Ha-ri teases about his uncontrollable sneezing.
Mid-flirtation, Ji-eui receives a call from Mi-ja. She suffered a dizzy spell, fell, and hit her head. In the process of patching her up, Ji-eui learns that the medications he’d spotted in Ha-ri’s suitcase are actually part of Mi-ja’s cancer treatment. Mi-ja reached out to Ji-eui because she’s trying to keep her illness quiet. She doesn’t want the villagers to know she’s sick and start treating her differently, and she also didn’t want to worry Ha-ri with news of her head injury. Ha-ri already worries about her enough, and she doesn’t want to add to her stress.
I’m relieved that our leading lady isn’t secretly battling a terminal illness, but I can’t say I’m thrilled that the survival prospects of her only living relative have suddenly become much more uncertain. It doesn’t help that Ha-ri follows Ji-eui to her grandmother’s house and is a worried bundle of raw emotions, knowing he’d just paid her grandmother a house call. She’s hurt that Mi-ja seemingly trusted a stranger with the truth before confiding in her about her injury, but her outburst also reveals how deeply she’s been avoiding the reality of her grandmother’s condition. Beneath the anger is denial, and denial has been easier than confronting the possibility of losing her grandmother.
Suffice it to say, after this moment, Ji-eui and Ha-ri are closer than ever — but not for long because everyone else on the island is busy shipping Ha-ri with Chi-yeon. The villagers’ obvious biases for Chi-yeon — coupled with rumors circulating among the doctors on the public health group chat that Ha-ri is a gold digger who only dates doctors — cause Ji-eui to cool off emotionally. To be fair, he doesn’t buy into the gold digging rumors as much as he does the ones about Ha-ri and Chi-yeon, and he claims his reasons for backing off are because he doesn’t want the villagers to think poorly of her if she’s also seen dallying with him. (I’m sure there’s also some jealousy mixed in, too.) Regardless of his reasons, though, Ha-ri is hurt that he believes the rumors and angrily refuses to listen to him any longer.
While our formerly cutesy OTP have their falling out, we take a break from our regularly scheduled programming to focus on Ju-cheon and Jeong-seon, who fall into bed with one another. Their dynamic has been a bit confusing up to this point, and the best I can tell, Jeong-seon may have started out with a crush on Ju-cheon, but when he failed to react to her odd brand of playground flirtations, she became prejudiced and defensive — especially after he accused her of having no friends.
That particular insult cut deep because, well, she doesn’t have any friends on the island, and it’s a pain point for her because, as Ju-cheon discovers when he visits her house to retrieve his phone, she’s celebrating her birthday by herself. Setting aside their petty differences, Ju-cheon, who has a soft spot for birthdays because of his own childhood woes, invites himself to celebrate Jeong-seon’s birthday with her. A few drinks later and Ju-cheon wakes up naked in her bed. (For the record, I’m currently not a fan of this particular side-couple.)
At work, Jeong-seon does her best to play it cool, like a Seoulite would after a one-night-stand, and Ju-cheon is just…awkward — confused by her behavior and the memories from the night before that continue to elude him. Suffice it to say, he’s not entirely on top of his game when he treats a young girl for a sore throat with acupuncture, and by the end of the appointment they’re both in tears.
But Ju-cheon’s theatrics are the least of the clinic’s worries because they’ve received word that the governor has sent CHOI HYANG-MI (Jung Ae-yeon), the Director of Public Health Care Services, to the island to give the clinic an official warning. Too many warnings, and the staff suffer dearly with docked pay, restricted leave, and extended mandatory service, and this particular warning is the result of Ji-eui actions. You see, Governor KO CHANG-MOK (Kim Hae-gon) called the clinic, and because he failed to introduce himself or provide context for his call, Ji-eui hung up on him.
Thankfully, despite her no-nonsense appearance and professionally subservient behavior around the governor, Hyang-mi isn’t playing bureaucratic games. She’s a doctor, through and through. She showed up to the island as instructed, and as far as she cares, her job is done. Before she can return to the mainland, though, the little girl from Ju-cheon’s appointment comes running down the hallway, and in the aftermath of their collision Hyang-mi cuts her hand on a broken jar. Luckily for her, she has Ji-eui, a plastic surgeon, to stitch her up. Less luckily, though, the delay caused her to miss the last ferry off the island before all the boats were docked for the approaching storm.
Trying to make the best out of the situation, Hyang-mi invites the clinic staff to eat, and while there’s some awkwardness as the staff adjusts to sharing a table with Hyang-mi, who has the power to make their lives miserable, the more cringeworthy conversation is between Ha-ri and Jeong-seon. Unaware that rumors are circulating about Ha-ri’s dating life, Jeong-seon low-key tries to ask her about Seoul dating etiquette and inadvertently offends Ha-ri.
Needing a breather, Ha-ri steps out of the restaurant, and Ji-eui follows her. She admits that the rumors are true — but only in the sense that, as a nurse who practically lived at the hospital, the only men she ever met (and subsequently dated) were doctors. She tells Ji-eui not to worry, though, because she won’t get her hooks into him. “Why not?” Ji-eui asks, putting his cards on the table, “I’m a doctor, too.”
Before Ha-ri can respond to his confession, Ju-cheon’s patient from earlier (the little girl with the sore throat) is brought to them. She can’t breathe, and Ji-eui suspects she has acute epiglottitis, which needs immediate medical attention at a better equipped hospital. With the storm brewing, Chun-sik is cleared to take them to the mainland, but there’s a bigger problem: Ji-eui, as the on call doctor, is the only one who didn’t either drink at dinner or sustain a hand injury (Hyang-mi), which means he has to get on the boat.
He’s mid-panic attack when Ha-ri grabs his wrist and coaxes him onto the boat. Together, they head into the storm, but the girl’s condition worsens on the way to the mainland and Ji-eui is forced to intubate her. He freezes, and in between the lightning and crashing of waves, he flashes back to performing chest compressions on his friend. He’d been on a boat then, too, and Ji-eui’s girlfriend had been yelling at the driver to go faster.
Once again, Ha-ri pulls him back into the present and offers to assist him. He pulls himself together, and removes his life jacket to get a better angle. With Hyang-mi walking him through the process, he successfully intubates the girl, but once he’s confirmed she’s breathing again, he crawls to the edge of the boat to throw up. The boat pitches in the storm, and Ji-eui, precariously close to the edge and drained mentally and physically, falls into the ocean without his life jacket.
Welp, I was definitely not expecting that dramatic cliffhanger from this show, but it objectively loses a good deal of its impactfulness when we all know Ji-eui will survive. K-drama writers have killed off characters in spectacular ways, but they aren’t going to kill off a main character after only four episodes and leave so many lingering questions about Ji-eui’s past. No, the only unknown about this cliffhanger is how they manage to fish Ji-eui out of the ocean.
As for the rest of these episodes, I found them entertaining, but I do question the pacing of the romances. As mentioned earlier, the Jeong-seon and Ju-cheon pairing moved excessively fast, especially when you consider that they were bickering a mere couple of hours before sleeping together. I’m all for hate-to-love romances, but the “hate” stage for this particular pairing felt juvenile, which made their subsequent drunken one-night-stand feel less like the actions of two consenting adults with few geographically available prospects and more like the precursor to a teenage pregnancy. (I sincerely hope that this simile isn’t prophetic.)
Comparatively, Ji-eui and Ha-ri seem like they’re moving at a snail’s pace, despite verbalizing their romantic interest in each other before our show has reached the half-way mark. Their mutual attraction makes sense, given the number of meaningful interactions they’ve shared, but as a fan of slow-burn romances, I would have happily lingered in the realm of uncertainty a little longer to enjoy the more subtle nuances of their courtship. Instead, all the compelling stolen glances seem reserved for Chi-yeon, which is largely why I think I’ve developed SLS despite him not being a very prominent character.
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