The Physician of Traditional Medicine Returns from Murim

“I’m sorry. Could you speak a little louder?”

Instead of shouting, I picked up the hearing aid still lying on the road and handed it to the middle-aged man.

He dusted off the hearing aid and put it in his ear, but continued to rub his chest for a while.

“Thank you, young one. Whew… What did you just say? Oh my, my hearing isn’t that bad, but I’m so shaken up I can’t think straight.”

Come to think of it, didn’t the patient in the assignment also have mild hearing loss? Fortunately, it seemed he could converse without much difficulty when wearing the hearing aid. Modern conveniences are truly wonderful.

I spotted a cafe not far away and pointed to it.

“It’s nothing. You must have been really startled because of that car that just passed. Let’s go in and rest for a moment.”

“But my hospital room is right nearby…”

“Your legs are still shaking. Let’s rest a bit. I’ll buy you a cup of tea.”

The middle-aged man looked down to check his legs and was startled. He apparently hadn’t realized how much he was trembling.

I entered the cafe with him.

“Two chamomile teas, please.”

I ordered a calming tea and headed to a corner table. There were no other customers, but it seemed more comfortable for conversation.

“Phew, my heart’s still pounding. If it weren’t for you, young one, something terrible could have happened.”

“There are so many crazy drivers on the road. Pedestrians have no choice but to be extra careful.”

“That’s right. Haha… This old man had a stroke of luck.”

He kept blinking his eyes. He shook his head, as if unable to believe what had just happened.

“Are you feeling a bit calmer now?”

“Yes. Much better. Goodness… Of all things, to nearly be hit by a car. I almost went the same way as my wife.”

“Ah, did your wife also have an accident…”

“Haha! No need to look at me so pitifully. It’s been 11 years already, and I’m living well enough on my own without a spouse.”

The middle-aged man interrupted me and laughed boisterously, but I noticed his eyelids and lips were still trembling.

‘Wait, 11 years?’

I was about to take his hand but paused momentarily.

Spouse’s death 11 years ago, and hearing loss. The assignment I had just finished writing naturally connected.

“Sir, do you happen to hear ringing in your ears?”

As he was fiddling with his left ear, I was able to ask without being rude.

“Ah, yes. You’re quite observant, young one.”

“That’s how I noticed you from afar.”

“Haha, I see.”

“Has it been over 10 years?”

“It started then, yes. But it’s only gotten this bad in the past year or so.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it was still ringing constantly.

“Is it worse when you’re going about your day than when you’re trying to sleep?”

“No, it’s worst right before bed. When I’m working, I can forget about it, and it only rings occasionally when I become aware of it. But when I lie down to sleep, it goes ‘piiiiing~’ and torments me so much I can’t sleep without alcohol.”

“Ah, I see.”

“At first, it really just sounded like birdsong. I thought maybe my late wife was trying to talk to me, so I didn’t even think about getting treatment. Sigh… It’s because I’m ignorant. If I had gotten treatment right away, it might have gotten better. It was much later when I was talking with my foreman that he scolded me and told me to go to the hospital right away.”

“So it got worse because you left it untreated.”

“It’s all my fault. I drank so much. Even now, doctors are making a fuss about me quitting alcohol. But now, even if I wanted to quit, I can’t.”

The middle-aged man downed his chamomile tea as if it were a shot of soju. Perhaps because he mentioned his deceased wife, there were slight tears in his eyes.

Instead of offering comfort, I quietly handed him a napkin.

‘So he was a real patient after all.’

I had thought the medical history was too detailed for a fictional patient created for an assignment. From the circumstances, it seemed he was an actual patient admitted to our university hospital.

When I had only seen the patient’s image through the chart, I had imagined a rough middle-aged man who enjoyed drinking at construction sites, so there was a big gap with the middle-aged man I actually met.

“May I ask your name?”

“Hm? It’s Jung Gwangsu. Oh my, I didn’t even ask my savior’s name! What’s your name, young one? Do you go to Korea University? What’s your major?”

“I’m Han Yeowon. I’m currently attending Korea University’s College of Korean Medicine.”

Mr. Jung Gwangsu.

By remembering his name, he became a person in my mind, not just the tinnitus patient from the assignment.

“You’re studying to be a Korean medicine doctor? I thought you were an athlete!”

Jung Gwangsu said with wide eyes. My movement in grabbing him must have been a bit too aggressive.

“Haha, I did some sports when I was younger.”

I scratched my head, giving a vague answer.

“What a coincidence. I’m currently admitted to Korea University Korean Medicine Hospital, but how come I’ve never seen you?”

“Oh, I’m still a student.”

“But I see students following professors around all the time.”

“Those must be lower year students. We do hospital rotations in our third year of the professional program.”

“Ah, I see. No wonder you recognized the tinnitus right away!”

Jung Gwangsu clapped his hands in surprise.

“Are you feeling any better with the treatment?”

I asked him about his progress, which I was internally curious about. Based on the assignment Professor Lee Minseok had given, there didn’t seem to be much sign of improvement.

“No… They say it will take a long time to treat because it’s been so long.”

As expected, he shook his head.

In my assignment, I had written about acupoints known to be effective for tinnitus, adding a few to the direction of relieving muscle tension and nerve compression in the neck and shoulders.

But I didn’t really think it was the right answer. If that would have solved it, would he have gone through ENT, neurosurgery, two Korean medicine clinics, and ended up admitted to a Korean medicine hospital?

As Jung Gwangsu said, if treatment had started as soon as the tinnitus appeared, it might have been different, but with various symptoms compounded over 11 years, basic treatment wouldn’t cut it.

“Are you admitted to the Ophthalmology, Otolaryngology, Dermatology department? Or Acupuncture and Moxibustion?”

“Ophthalmo… what?”

“Who’s your attending professor, if I may ask?”

“Who was it again? Our foreman recommended Professor Kim Seongcheol, saying he was such a great doctor, but my attending physician changed recently.”

Jung Gwangsu said with a hint of dissatisfaction.

“To Professor Lee Minseok?”

“Ah, that was the name. He’s so young, you know.”

He nodded.

So he was indeed a patient of Professor Lee Minseok, who had given us the assignment. He might act like there’s no disease he can’t treat in front of students, but it seems he hadn’t earned the patient’s trust.

Well, it wasn’t that strange. I too had to face all sorts of distrustful looks for being young, and a woman, before I earned my title.

The tendency to prefer older Korean medicine doctors, thinking they have more experience, wasn’t that different in modern times.

“He must be excellent to become a professor at such a young age. He’s the professor I respect the most.”

“Oh, really? Are you his student?”

“That’s right.”

I nodded. Since having trust in one’s doctor is very important for treatment, I laid it on thick praising Professor Lee Minseok.

“He doesn’t even check the pulse before inserting needles…”

Jung Gwangsu muttered.

I had wondered why he didn’t like someone as charismatic as Professor Lee Minseok.

‘Oh my, even Koreans secretly like having their pulse checked.’

For patients admitted to the Acupuncture and Moxibustion department with disc problems or spinal stenosis causing back pain, they wouldn’t have any complaints even if their pulse wasn’t checked.

But for cases like Jung Gwangsu, who came to a Korean medicine hospital for an unknown cause, it would have been better to check the pulse and offer some explanation.

“If it’s alright with you, may I take a look?”

“I’d be grateful if you would!”

Jung Gwangsu eagerly extended his hand, clearly delighted.

It seemed he had been secretly wanting to hear the results of a pulse diagnosis.

I placed my index, middle, and ring fingers on his wrist and quietly closed my eyes.

“……”

I grasped the pulse itself in less than 10 seconds, but deliberately took over a minute.

His pulse, which had quickened from the near-accident, gradually stabilized, revealing a string-like pulse that felt like plucking a gayageum.

“Your pulse is weak in force, and there’s a sense of tightness and hardness.”

“Is my qi deficient?”

Jung Gwangsu’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes. The qi itself is insufficient, and what little qi there is is congested. We call it liver qi stagnation, which in simple terms means long-accumulated stress. When there’s no flow, all sorts of illnesses can arise from there. You probably experience depression or anxiety, and various aches and pains too.”

He nodded continuously as I explained.

“May I check your shoulder muscles as well?”

“By all means.”

I gently grasped Jung Gwangsu’s trapezius muscle.

“Ugh.”

It was still stiff, even though he must have received acupuncture from Professor Lee Minseok for several days.

I then checked his sternocleidomastoid and scalene muscles.

“Ack! …It’s fine? When that professor pressed it last time, it hurt terribly.”

“The professor must have loosened up your neck muscles quite a bit.”

“Yes, I received acupuncture around my ear, neck, and limbs.”

Considering Jung Gwangsu’s age, it was still stiff, but subjectively it seemed to have improved. With a body that had done physical labor for decades, it would be difficult to recover completely after just a few weeks of treatment.

I carefully checked his temporomandibular joint and neck and shoulder muscles, but there wasn’t severe tenderness.

“Let me check your chest area too.”

Lastly, I lightly pressed on the Tanzhong acupoint.

“Aaargh!”

Jung Gwangsu let out a scream. He quickly covered his mouth, startled by the sound he made that would have drawn attention if there had been other customers in the cafe.

The Tanzhong acupoint, located in a depression in the center of the chest between the nipples, is a representative diagnostic and treatment point for hwa-byung (fire illness). It’s where qi tends to accumulate when stressed.

“You must be under a lot of stress.”

“Does this area hurt when you’re stressed?”

“Yes. You probably feel tightness in your chest often, don’t you?”

“Yes. It feels stuffy even when I haven’t eaten anything. I didn’t realize there was a problem because it’s always like this.”

He said, pounding his chest.

“When I was admitted to the hospital, they kept asking how many meals I eat a day, how much water I drink, what my bowel movements are like. As I answered, I realized that I was fine when I was younger.”

“It seems you’ve been too busy to take care of your body.”

“Yes. After my wife passed away like that, I didn’t even feel like eating properly. Now I’ve been admitted to get better, but goodness. I feel like I’m on the verge of death. …Is it too late?”

“Not at all.”

I shook my head firmly.

There were signs everywhere that his digestive system and fluid metabolism had broken down due to long-term qi stagnation.

But it wasn’t too late to turn things around. Jung Gwangsu’s body still had the power to heal itself.

“Depending on how well you receive treatment from now on, and how you live your life, you can definitely get better. I’m sure that’s what your wife would want too.”

Jung Gwangsu, who had been blinking back tears every time he mentioned his deceased wife, teared up again at my words.

“…I didn’t want to say this in front of someone who saved my life, but to be honest, until just now, I was thinking it might have been better if that car had hit me. I guess my wife read my heart and sent you—no, sent the doctor to me.”

I quietly held his hand.

“I heard unintentionally. You must have gone through so much.”

The cafe owner, who had been listening to our conversation from the counter, brought over another cup of tea.

“Take your time and have another cup. There are no other customers, so feel free to rest comfortably.”

“Thank you, truly. I’ve received such kindness today.”

He blew his nose with the napkins provided and bowed his head to the owner as well. Though a bit embarrassed about making a scene, he didn’t seem displeased.

Jung Gwangsu placed one hand on his chest and caught his breath. It would be helpful to let out his emotions by crying fully, but it probably wasn’t easy for a middle-aged man to do so, given social expectations.

“If you follow Professor Lee Minseok’s treatment well, you’ll definitely see improvement. Press here on your chest occasionally to release tension, and breathe comfortably.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t bring any needles, so I’ll just loosen things up a bit with acupressure.”

He willingly entrusted his body to me.

I pressed on the Tanzhong point and, opening my qi sense, clearly felt the tangled energy.

‘Just releasing the stagnation well should gradually show treatment effects.’

I didn’t have the ability to cure Jung Gwangsu’s illness with a single needle, and it was also unwise to draw unnecessary attention.

On the plane, they fortunately didn’t make an issue of my student status, but Jo Haneul’s warning wasn’t entirely wrong.

I massaged Jung Gwangsu’s chest, offering advice at a level appropriate for a student.

Channeling just a tiny bit of energy, to help it loosen slowly.