“Finally, a night I can enjoy,” I said as I made my way into Seoul Olympic Stadium. Thousands of Army from all over the world made the stadium seem five times as big as it was. I’ve been in Seoul a few weeks now, starting my residency at Seoul Surgical Hospital and tonight, I finally got to enjoy living here. My parents met here many years ago and it made sense to come back to my “home”.
BTS were performing their final leg of their tour and I just had to be here. I usually didn’t attend these things unless it was with my late fiance, but even then, I had to be careful. I found my seat in the front row after I had my bags checked. Me being the doctor that’s always ready, I had my clear doctor bag filled with all the necessary items and my doctoral license so they knew I was the real deal incase of an accident.
Once the concert started, I was immediately captivated by the boys. Namjoon, the leader, as cliche as it sounded, was my bias. As someone who is multilingual, I adored him and looked up to him, even if he was a few years younger than I. I kept my eyes on them all, the way they interacted with the crowd and with each other was heartwarming and made me smile. Everyone was having a good time and when it was time for their intermission, I stood watching them leave the stage.
Jungkook didn’t look good. The paleness of his skin stuck out at me and I knew something wasn’t right.
Then, the maknae went down.
And that’s where this story begins.
Me, Layla Lee, MD., running and jumping over the barrier to only be detained by the staff.
Namjoon ran over covered in sweat with a grim look on his face. I didn’t have time to freak out being this close to my bias because Doctor Lee was in full swing and nothing could get in my way. After brief explanations to the staff about who I was and what I was there for, they let me back to do what I had to do.
“Ill translate for you if it gets too rough. Don’t worry.” Namjoon said while giving me a half smile. I looked over at him and nodded as we ran backstage to the dressing rooms where everyone was.
“Does it look like I can’t speak Korean?” I said in my mother tongue and he smiled.
“I didn’t want to assume, but you don’t really look like any other Korean woman here.”
“That’s because my father is Korean and my mother is Italian.”
“I’m sorry for making assumptions.”
“Well, you know what they say about that,” I muttered as we came to a stop in front of a door.”
We entered into the room with over twenty people inside. I spotted Jungkook and promptly went over to him. Namjoon was explaining to everyone who I was and why I was here. I knelt down to the pale maknae who had his eyes shut and head laid back against the headrest of the couch.
“Annyeonghaseyo.” I said while looking him over. He looked a whole lot worse than I thought.
His eyes fluttered open. “Annyeonghaseyo.” His voice was faint and pitiful. His brown eyes looked sunken with the bags underneath. I wanted to hug him.
Once I looked him over, I could tell he was suffering from dehydration and exhaustion. And with his history of asthma attacks, I needed to get this under control as soon as possible. “Let’s get you better, yeah?”
“Thank you,” he muttered and gave me a small smile. I gripped his hand and squeezed then nodded back to him.
I stood up and faced the room of worried people. I looked at Namjoon and motioned him forward.
“I need an inhaler. Preferably the one his doctor prescribed. Or the canned oxygen.”
He repeated what I said in Korean and everyone dispersed.
RM walked toward me again as I sighed. “Look, I can speak Korean because of my dad, but I may need some help if I can’t get the words out right. Do you mind helping me?”
He nodded. “I can.”
I knelt back down to Jungkook and grabbed his hand again. “I need you to take deep and slow breaths for me. Can you do that?” I said in jumbled Korean and I blushed, then turned to Namjoon.
He looked at him, listened and then nodded his head. I grabbed my trusty medical bag that I never go anywhere without and pulled out my stethoscope. “I’m going to listen to your chest.”
The thick fabric of his shirt made it hard to get a good listen to his breathing. I sighed and looked at Namjoon. “He’s got to take his shirt off.”
Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck explained to him, but the maknae shook his head. “No no no no no.”
I rolled my eyes, not really understanding why I was getting so annoyed of something so small. I’ve been in Korea for weeks and have busted my ass taking care of the old and young. They’ve all listened and showed me respect. I don’t know why it hit me the wrong way, but I snapped.
"Jeong-gug deul-eo bwa dangsin-eun dangsin-ui syeocheuleul beosgo naega malhandaelo hal geos-ibnida. Dasi mudji anhgessseubnida. Ulineun bunmyeonghabnikka?”
*Listen to me Jungkook. You’re going to do as I say and take off your shirt. Are we clear?”
He looked at me with wide eyes and gulped. He slowly took off his shirt and sat it down next to him. I pressed the stethoscope against his pale skin and listened. His heart was hammering away in his chest and his breathing was still fast. I looked up and was met with the worried face of his manager.
“We couldn’t find his inhaler, but we do have this.”
He handed me the canned oxygen with the face mask attached. I nodded. “Thank you.” He bowed and then walked over to the wall to observe.
I eyed Jungkook and stood up, as I placed the face mask on him. “Breathe.” He breathed deep and I sprayed the can. We went on like this for five minutes, before I took the face mask off of him. I pulled my bag close to me and brought out the portable pulse oximeter. I slid it onto his finger and quickly checked the reading.
“85 BPM. Perfect.” I smiled. I looked back at Jungkook and pointed to his shirt. He sheepishly pulled it on and laid back on the couch.
I put my things back into my bag and walked over to the manager and the rest of the group. The six boys eyed me as I turned to the manager.
“My professional opinion is he can resume the concert and dance normally, but he needs to visit his family physician and get another inhaler to keep on his person at all times. Next time, he could be hospitalized and this could have ended up very differently.” I hooked the strap around my medical bag and threw it over my shoulder. “Now my personal opinion. The one you are not going to like. Stop pushing yourselves. You guys are not invincible. Taehyung based on the complexion of your skin, you’re dehydrated. Jin, you need iron pills. Yoongi and Hoseok, you need sleep and based on the redness of your necks, your blood pressure is sky high. Jimin, lay off the energy drinks because your pupils are dancing.” And then I turned to Namjoon and pinched the skin on his wrist. “Just as I figured. You’re also dehydrated.”
Sejin sighed and nodded. “I will make sure they take care of themselves. Thank you, Doctor-”
“Doctor Lee. Layla Lee.”
He bowed and turned to the boys. “Finish the show, but be careful, please.”
They went out of the room, each bowing and uttering their thanks. Sejin approached me and smiled. “Do you have a permanent position of employment in Korea?”
I nodded my head. “I’m just working with the hospital until I can find something more permanent or until I can open my own practice.” I shrugged. “Why?”
He sighed. “The group doctor that travels with us is no longer able to due to the decline of his own health.”
“And that involves me how?”
“I would like it very much if you would join us as Bangtan Sonyeondan’s official physician.”