Doctor on the Edge: Episodes 9-10
by DaebakGrits
Now that our doctor and his nurse paramour are back to being a lovey-dovey couple, one would think the tide would recede and bring calmer waters, but — alas — that is not the case. Instead, our doctor becomes canon fodder for a political coverup, and the unwanted publicity lures his ex-girlfriend to the island.
EPISODES 9-10
Sometime after last week’s episode-ending kiss, Ji-eui and Ha-ri relocate to a bench overlooking the dock where they finally have a long-overdue conversation. Or rather, Ha-ri finally comes to her senses and admits that she unfairly placed all the blame for Mi-ja’s illness and death on Ji-eui’s shoulders when, in reality, she was the one who caused Mi-ja the most pain through her own inability to let go.
I’m glad Ha-ri eventually reaches the point where she recognizes that her grief harmed the people who cared about her, but after watching the emotional dumpster fire she set ablaze last week, the resolution to this story arc feels shallow. There’s barely any acknowledgement of how deeply her actions wounded Mi-ja during her final days. Instead, because the story is eager to move the romance forward, Ha-ri’s apology is framed almost entirely around Ji-eui. While he is admittedly more alive — and therefore capable of hearing her apology and offering forgiveness — the narrative leaves a noticeable void where an immense guilt over the way she treated Mi-ja should be, at the very least, expressed. She will never be able to apologize to Mi-ja for her behavior, and that remorse should still be weighing heavily on her conscience for a long time to come.
But, as I’ve already mentioned, the writers are clearly eager to move on from the melodrama surrounding Mi-ja’s death, and so, rather than lingering on the complicated emotions and unresolved issues that drove our OTP apart, the story emphasizes Ha-ri and Ji-eui’s rekindled romance by having them sneak back into the apartment above the clinic like teenagers. Sporting matching paint stains from the bench stamped across their backsides, they’re blissfully unaware that Chi-yeon is watching from the kitchen, his face a perfect blend of irritation and resignation.
Just when Ji-eui gets the greenlight from Ha-ri to join her in her — or rather, his — room to “watch a movie,” Ju-cheon appears and inadvertently rooster-blocks Ji-eui. You see, Ju-cheon is still hung up on the guy he saw enter Jeong-seon’s home, and under the guise of needing a beer and seeking advice for a “friend,” he explains his situation to Ji-eui. After listening to Ju-cheon’s story, Ji-eui advises him — I mean, his friend — to just be direct and ask his lady friend about the man. (Props to our emotionally mature male lead!)
Unfortunately, emotional maturity isn’t Ju-cheon’s strong suit. Instead of taking Ji-eui’s perfectly reasonable advice, he lets his insecurities get the better of him, convincing himself that asking Jeong-seon about her mysterious houseguest would only make him look needy. Naturally, this is when KIM JI-WOONG (Kim Sung-jung) shows up at the clinic, obnoxiously implying his back injury came from vigorous bedroom activities (ugh). While Ju-cheon’s less-than-gentle massage and acupuncture treatment is understandable given Ji-woong’s behavior, Ju-cheon fumbles the ball when he later accuses Jeong-seon of two-timing him. It’s an impressively bad way to start a conversation.
Rather than admit he’s jealous and ask a simple question, Ju-cheon lashes out, downplaying the extent of his feelings for Jeong-seon to protect his pride. His lack of trust understandably hurts Jeong-seon, but she’s not entirely blameless either. Instead of clearing up a misunderstanding that she contributed to, she doubles down by keeping Ji-woong’s identity to herself, allowing the situation to escalate.
When Ju-cheon finally learns that Ji-woong is actually Jeong-seon’s half-brother (called it!) he’s suitably mortified and realizes he should have trusted her enough to ask instead of assuming the worst. At the same time, a little honesty on Jeong-seon’s part could have spared them both the unnecessary drama because, as embarrassing as her half-brother is, she can’t hide him forever. Ju-cheon eventually admits his jealousy came from how deeply he cares for her, and the two reconcile. (Yay! — but only because this couple is much more exasperating when going through miscommunication drama.)
Meanwhile, Ji-eui and Ha-ri are called to another island to treat a sick ajumma, and neither of them is disappointed when strong winds suspend the ferry service, creating the perfect setup for an “only one bed” scenario. Unfortunately for our OTP, the island has more than enough spare rooms to go around, and Ji-eui, the respectable gentleman that he is, initially resigns himself to spending the night alone. But the moment Ha-ri teases him for being too much of a stickler to cross the line, he wastes no time proving just how quickly he’s willing to hop, skip, and breakdance across said line in his eagerness to be with her. Naturally, just as they’re finally alone and leaning in for a kiss, duty calls.
More ajummas have fallen ill, but it quickly becomes clear that their condition isn’t due to anything contagious, thanks to the suspicious IV marks on all their arms. With so few healthcare providers servicing remote islands, the elderly villagers have depended on a former nurse for treatment. Unfortunately, in a place already stretched thin on resources, that reliance backfires because the nurse administered expired IV treatments, triggering the adverse reactions. While the ajummas can ultimately be treated with antibiotics, Ji-eui and Ha-ri are left in an uncomfortable bind. The nurse’s actions clearly violate medical ethics and should be reported, but doing so would also mean leaving the island without its only dependable source of medical care.
Although Ji-eui and Ha-ri ultimately decide not to report the nurse’s actions, Chi-yeon, who arrives the next day with additional antibiotics, strongly disagrees with their choice. Despite his reputation as the more lackadaisical doctor, he’s the one who chooses to file a report, unwilling to risk the blame for the incident should it eventually circle back to them. Chi-yeon is also taken aback that Ji-eui, who’s normally such a stickler for rules, doesn’t share his stance. But in this case, Ji-eui finds himself sympathizing with the islanders because (cue: flashback to his friend’s death) he understands all too well what it feels like to be isolated with no one around to help.
Back on Pyeongdongdo, Ha-ri’s earlier declaration that she would wait until Ji-eui was ready to discuss his trauma quickly falls apart a mere twenty-four hours later. He’s obviously struggling, and she’s worried that she’ll accidentally hurt him because of her ignorance. She hates seeing him suffer, and wishes that he would lean on her, but flashbacks of his ex telling him that neither of them deserve to be happy in the wake of their friend’s death, leave Ji-eui unable to accommodate Ha-ri’s request.
Thankfully, this doesn’t appear to cause (another) rift in their relationship, as they privately celebrate Ha-ri’s homecoming together now that Mi-ja’s roof has been repaired. Although Ji-eui is bummed that she will no longer be living under the same roof as him, Ha-ri is quick to point out that they now have more privacy. (*wink, wink*). Once again, though, just as they’re about to kiss, Ha-ri and Ji-eui are interrupted by an emergency phone call from the clinic.
This time their patient has a suspected appendicitis that needs to be treated by a mainland doctor ASAP, so they call for a helicopter, as the seas are too rough for a boat. As Ha-ri and Ji-eui help carry their patient to the helipad, they watch in horror as the helicopter crashes and explodes in an unexpected dayum-that-escalated-quickly moment.
As if that weren’t devastating enough, Ji-eui ends up shouldering the full blame for the helicopter crash and the pilot’s death when it comes to light that his patient never had appendicitis in the first place. Governor Ko seizes the opportunity to fan the flames, publicly suggesting that the tragedy is symptomatic of a much larger issue: the questionable qualifications of public health doctors assigned to remote island communities.
Although any sane person can see Ji-eui’s misdiagnosis is in no way, shape, or form the cause of a helicopter crash, he still blames himself because everyone is pointing fingers at him — and because this incident mimics the aftermath of his friend’s death in a lot of ways. He hides in his room and refuses to eat the food Ha-ri drops off for him. Through the door, she asks him to lean on her, but he continues to shut her out.
Given her inability to get through to Ji-eui, you can imagine how much it stings for Ha-ri to watch Ji-eui emerge from his self-imposed depression cave the moment he learns his ex-girlfriend, LEE HWA-YEONG, has arrived on the island looking for him. His body language makes it clear that he isn’t exactly thrilled by her arrival, but it’s understandable why Ha-ri would feel intimidated. Hwa-yeong and Ji-eui share a long history, and Hwa-yeong quickly proves herself to be an exceptionally capable doctor by helping triage and treat the wave of food poisoning that seems to have struck nearly every fisherman on the island.
Turns out, Hwa-yeong saw Ji-eui on the news and has come to persuade him to transfer off the island, an option made possible by his PTSD diagnosis. Ji-eui, however, has no interest in leaving. Not only is he struggling with growing doubts about his abilities as a doctor, but he also recognizes that his trauma will follow him no matter where he goes. He still resents Hwa-yeong for pushing him away after their friend’s death instead of grieving alongside him, but despite resisting her insistence that neither of them deserved happiness, he’s beginning to wonder if she was right after all.
It’s during Ji-eui’s tense conversation with Hwa-yeong that Ha-ri rushes over with a breakthrough. She and Chi-yeon have uncovered evidence that the helicopter crash was caused by Governor Ko’s hastily executed helipad renovation project. Of the more than twenty helipads that were supposedly renovated, only three had functioning landing lights, and Ha-ri clearly remembers there being no lights the night of the crash. Governor Ko has been shifting attention away from his own negligence and turning Ji-eui into the face of a manufactured controversy.
Ji-eui is deeply moved by everything Ha-ri has done to uncover the truth, clear his name, and ease the guilt he’s been carrying. Her unwavering support stands in stark contrast to the way Hwa-yeong responded after their friend’s death. So when Ha-ri asks him to stop shutting everyone out and let her stand by his side, he finally agrees. Realizing what that means, Hwa-yeong quietly walks away without saying goodbye, understanding that her failure to stand beside Ji-eui when he needed her most cost her the chance to be the one supporting him now.
Things finally seem to be looking up for Ji-eui after Chi-yeon contacts reporters and asks them to publish corrections to their earlier coverage. But Governor Ko proves to be far more influential than any of them anticipated. Instead of exposing the governor’s botched helipad renovation project, the press doubles down on Ji-eui. Somehow, reporters uncover that he’s been taking medication for his PTSD and begin portraying his diagnosis as evidence that he’s unfit to practice medicine.
The article lands like a knife, plunging straight into the heart of Ji-eui’s deepest fears and insecurities. Overwhelmed by a panic attack, he retreats to his room. Ha-ri follows, doing everything she can to comfort him. She promises she’ll find a way to prove that his medication had nothing to do with his alleged misdiagnosis of appendicitis. But Ji-eui is beyond reassurance. He’s reached his breaking point. He can’t endure life on the island any longer. He’s terrified. All Ha-ri can do is wrap him in a tight embrace and hold him close.
While I’m glad the story has finally moved past the messy buildup to and immediate aftermath of Mi-ja’s death, I can’t say I’ve enjoyed what has come next either. After all of last week’s emotional theatrics (re: Ha-ri’s crashout), it’s hard to believe how little Mi-ja’s death actually mattered to the story this week, especially given how integral a role her illness initially had on the plot and Ha-ri’s character development.
But, aside from Ha-ri’s early conversation with Ji-eui, where she apologized to him while eating the red bean sorghum rice cakes he learned to make from her grandmother, and her brief homecoming, during which she quietly took in Mi-ja’s funeral portrait, the drama barely acknowledged Mi-ja’s passing at all this week. Poor Mi-ja deserves better, but with only four episodes left, I guess our writers figured they should start focusing on Ji-eui’s trauma instead. And they couldn’t have their leading lady be a pillar of support if she was still an emotional mess following her grandmother’s death.
Unfortunately, now that the drama has finally turned its attention to Ji-eui’s backstory, I’m finding myself just as dissatisfied with its execution as I was with Ha-ri’s story arc. On a stylistic level, I appreciate how the fragmented, deliberately vague flashbacks mirror Ji-eui’s PTSD, but because we’re still missing the full circumstances surrounding his friend’s death, I’m left wondering how much of Ji-eui’s trauma stems from the guilt of being with Hwa-yeong while his friend suffered his fatal injury and how much comes from his inability to save him as a doctor.
Until the drama answers those questions, his emotional burden feels frustratingly messy — and maybe that was the intention because emotions and trauma are rarely neat and orderly — but revisiting his trauma through Governor Ko’s helipad fiasco also strikes me as an unnecessarily convoluted and melodramatic way to move his character arc forward. Can’t we explore a man’s mental health without first tying it to a hyper-masculine helicopter crash and a political cover-up? Like, couldn’t he have simply grown to trust Ha-ri and decide to open up to someone with the story first making his mental health the subject of public scrutiny?
And while we’re on the subject of dramatic plot developments I wish had never happened, it looks like Jeong-seon is pregnant. I was really hoping my prediction wouldn’t come true, but considering this couple’s overall immaturity, it’s not exactly unbelievable that they neglected to take the necessary precautions. The problem is that there’s nothing remotely romantic about this relationship. Their courtship has been built on childish bickering, and their ongoing insecurities continue to fuel poor communication. They aren’t emotionally ready to be a couple, let alone parents. So, for everyone’s sake, I’m sincerely hoping the pregnancy test turns out to be a false positive. I doubt it will happen, though, and I highly suspect we will end with them being the poster couple for a happy island family. (*eye rolls*)
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