Stop giving us unnecessary drugs

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By Scott Shepherd

Almost immediately after moving to Korea, I developed pretty unpleasant stomach problems, probably related to the stress of migrating to the other side of the world. Although it did not seem serious, it certainly wiped me out for a while. Let's not go into details, but I couldn't keep anything down, so over the course of a week or two I lost a lot of weight. Apart from the obvious physical discomfort, having lost that weight was actually pretty good news: I slimmed down very nicely in time for my wedding a month later.

After about a week in this rather debilitating situation (I had to sleep on the floor next to the toilet for easier access), I was ordered by my soon-to-be wife to visit a doctor, just to make sure I wasn't about to undergo some kind of horrific death a few weeks before our wedding. Dutifully I limped to the nearest gastrological doctors ― a mere ten-minute walk in this most convenient of countries.

Thankfully, the doctor confirmed that none of my organs looked like they were going to burst out of me and I probably wasn't about to die. It was just a stomach bug and in my particular case, there wasn't much to do other than wait. To my surprise, however, he nonetheless prescribed me a multicolored concoction of drugs.

Since I had only just moved to the country and I didn't have medical insurance, I had to pay more than I would do now, but it certainly wasn't too expensive. Accustomed to the British system, I didn't understand why I was being given medication for something like this, but like any good patient, I took them according to the doctor's orders.

I survived the brief illness and a few weeks later got happily (and slimly) married. The pictures turned out great. This illness was my first experience with the Korean medical system, and I was pretty satisfied.

Since then, I've had a few other encounters with doctors, thankfully not for anything serious. Every time I've gone to a hospital, it has only really been to make sure that what seemed like a minor injury or illness wasn't actually going to turn out to be something much worse that would somehow kill or maim me horribly. And much to my relief, so far nothing has.

However, every time I ever go, I'm told I should receive some kind of treatment or take six or seven pills of various hues every day for the next two weeks. I once went in for a slight injury to my ankle, just wanting to check that there was no serious damage. There wasn't, but within half an hour of walking into the doctor's office, I found myself lying down, watching my ankle being methodically electrocuted by a little machine.

Korea's healthcare system is undeniably good. Korea has coped pretty well during the pandemic, especially compared to many other OECD countries. If I got a serious illness, I have no doubt that I'd be able to see a doctor quickly and cheaply, and that the problem would be identified and treated to a high standard. I know two people who are right now receiving treatment for serious ailments in Korea, and I'm glad to see that they are receiving such great care.

However, I'm worried that we over-medicalize our daily lives, that we treat every ache and pain as if it merits a series of hospital visits. I wonder how many (if any) people reading this article have ever visited a Korean hospital for a minor problem without receiving some kind of treatment or drugs. That's not to say treatment is never necessary, but it seems to be the default action to automatically prescribe some medication for every patient who walks into a clinic.

Clearly, any medical intervention has risks inherent to it. Doctors should weigh up those risks and make a decision; they shouldn't be making medical decisions based on pressure from their patients or ― worse ― based on the desire for higher profits.

We all know about the problems that come from the over-prescription of antibiotics, and periodically, we see new horror stories about hyper-super-ultra-resistant bugs, the kinds of invisible and invincible monsters that have evolved as a direct result of the imprudent use of antibiotics. So far, it seems that we haven't lost the fight, but by relying too heavily on antibiotics, we're acting against our own long-term interests.

It's not just drugs either; a number of articles from recent years explore the causes of Korea's unusually high rates of birth by Caesarean section. One published in the journal, "BMS Pregnancy and Childbirth," points to such issues as the shortage of obstetricians, economic deprivation, and even the fear of litigation. An article in the "Korea Biomedical Review" suggests, alarmingly, that it may be down to doctors pressuring their patients because the surgical procedures generate better profits and require less work. This reality is nothing short of madness.

No one is denying that Korea's healthcare system has a lot of advantages. But the country's population is rapidly aging, and the birthrate has already dropped through a pit. Over-reliance on medication and demands to receive treatment for every little ailment can be as unsustainable as they are dangerous.

And that's not even thinking about those people who can't afford medical treatment. There are certainly people who will put off a trip to the hospital for fear of the cost. That reluctance to visit the doctor may be exacerbated by the near-certainty that they'll be prescribed something no matter what the issue.

These are complex problems. No single group is to blame, and the solution lies as much with the population as with the medical establishment. We have to stop treating medicine like it's magic; we should stop expecting and demanding pills for every little ailment. Equally, doctors have a responsibility not to give us medication unless it is medically necessary.

It's important to make it clear that I am not medically qualified. My doctorate is in the text and performance of Shakespeare's plays ― a subject which, while limitlessly fascinating and of utmost importance to the whole population, does not give me any kind of medical authority. I'm merely writing this article as someone who, like so many others, has seen my medical insurance bills go up this year; and we will continue to see them rise if questions are not asked.

So doctors, nurses, medical professionals of every kind: thank you for your great work, especially during this pandemic. But please stop pushing us towards unnecessary medical interventions and, please, unless we really do need them, stop giving us drugs.

Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea, and is currently an assistant professor of English at Chongshin University in Seoul. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.