“I’ve had it since middle school… so it’s been about twenty years now.”
“Since your first period?”
“Yes.”
The doctor kept his tone calm as he continued the consultation, but the moment the topic turned to menstrual pain, Yuminha’s expression darkened.
“How severe is it? Do painkillers help?”
“It’s unbearable. Like I’m dying. The medicine works… somewhat.”
“How many do you take?”
“About two Tylenol.”
“At a time?”
Normally, one dose in the morning and another in the evening would be considered fairly typical for patients with menstrual cramps.
“Two pills at once. One doesn’t do anything. It gets a little better if I take two, but after two or three hours the pain comes back. They say not to exceed eight pills a day, so I usually take six—two with each meal. Then if the pain gets so bad at night that I can’t sleep, I take one or two more.”
“Does it get worse at night?”
“It’s awful all day long. I wrap my stomach with heating packs and somehow endure it.”
Ah...
Yuminha’s case was extremely severe.
She was practically on the same level as the princess of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace who had once mistakenly consumed a herb incompatible with her constitution.
“There’s no underlying condition like uterine fibroids or endometriosis, correct?”
“No. Honestly, I almost wish there were. At least then they could cut something out. All they ever gave me were painkillers and birth control pills... They told me childbirth might help, so I pinned my hopes on that, but that turned out to be wrong too. Though... after giving birth to Seyoung, I haven’t ended up in the emergency room anymore. Before that, I even needed IV drips sometimes.”
Yuminha bit down hard on her lip. She wasn’t even on her period right now, yet merely thinking about it seemed agonizing.
“Are your cycles regular?”
“Not perfectly. Sometimes they’re delayed by a week or two.”
“And the flow? The color?”
“It’s a bit heavy, I think. Dark... though I’m not sure if all of it is.”
“Can you describe the pain? Does it start in your lower abdomen and spread to your chest and lower back? Or is it more of a sharp pain localized in your stomach?”
“The first one. My lower back always hurts too, and it feels like something is pulling from below.”
The doctor nodded.
He already had a rough idea of the cause, but to improve his accuracy, he continued assessing her overall condition.
“Do you have a good appetite?”
“No. I’ve never really enjoyed eating. My digestion isn’t very good either.”
Another confirmation.
“Do you sleep well?”
“More or less. I get around seven hours, but I’m always tired no matter how much I sleep.”
“You don’t sweat much, do you?”
“No. No matter how much I exercise, I barely sweat.”
“You get cold easily, and your hands and feet are cold too.”
“Yes! Exactly!”
“Any issues with bowel movements or urination?”
“If I eat cold food, I get mild diarrhea.”
Every symptom pointed in the same direction.
“There can be many causes of menstrual pain. Since you’ve already been examined for conditions like fibroids and endometriosis, we can rule those out. Your pelvic structure doesn’t appear problematic either, and you mentioned childbirth didn’t significantly change things.”
“Yes.”
“In cases like yours, we look to the internal organs for the root cause. Menstrual problems are often indicators of deeper imbalances within the body. Let me check your pulse.”
Of course, checking her pulse was important.
No matter how skilled he was, patients needed confidence before they trusted a treatment.
He gently took hold of her wrist.
“Well?”
She asked before even five seconds had passed.
“Your pulse is slow. It’s a pattern commonly associated with cold and dampness accumulating in the lower abdomen. That suggests weakened kidney energy.”
He smiled slightly.
“In simpler terms—you get cold easily, don’t you?”
“Yes!”
“Some people naturally tolerate cold or heat differently, but in your case it’s pathological. Your body is constantly signaling that it’s cold. Menstrual pain is one sign. The slow pulse is another. You probably also have a thick white coating on your tongue. Stick it out for me.”
Pulse diagnosis and tongue diagnosis were excellent tools for building trust.
He handed her a mirror.
“Oh!”
Her tongue was indeed coated with a noticeable white layer.
A faint blush crept across her cheeks.
At the same time, the last trace of doubt disappeared from her expression.
“In traditional medicine, primary dysmenorrhea is generally classified into four categories: Qi stagnation with blood stasis, liver-kidney deficiency, cold-damp obstruction, and qi-blood deficiency.”
As he wrote the terms on a piece of paper, he circled the characters for “cold” and “deficiency.”
“Qi stagnation and blood stasis usually result from stress disrupting circulation. Cold-damp obstruction refers to excessive coldness in the lower body. The deficiency types indicate weakness in the body, though they involve different organ systems. Which category do you think applies to you?”
“Cold-damp obstruction?”
“Exactly.”
Despite the complexity of the explanation, Yuminha was listening intently now.
“That makes sense.”
She nodded slowly.
“Then... I’ll need medicine?”
There was still a trace of anxiety in her voice.
“Yes. Unlike your husband’s condition, which can often be improved through acupuncture and exercise alone, your body needs warming herbal medicine.”
She hesitated before asking another question.
“Will I have to take it for a long time? It won’t be a whole year, right?”
“Most patients notice the first improvements within one or two months. Depending on their condition, treatment usually concludes after three to six months. When was your last period?”
“A week ago.”
“Then you’ll notice a difference by your very next cycle.”
His confidence was absolute.
After treating hundreds of women with severe menstrual pain, he knew her constitution well.
She was exactly the type of patient who responded exceptionally well to herbal medicine.
“And the improvement lasts?”
“As long as you don’t overwork yourself. Raising a child isn’t easy, so after we resolve the coldness, come in once a month for maintenance acupuncture. I’ll make sure the results stay.”
“Thank you. I’m counting on you.”
This time, it was Kang Cheolgyu who answered enthusiastically.
But Yuminha still looked hesitant.
“Is there something else worrying you?”
The doctor asked gently.
After a moment, she spoke.
“I’m curious about the medicine itself. The last time I took birth control pills, I had terrible breakthrough bleeding. Since then I’ve only used painkillers.”
She was worried about side effects.
“Herbal medicine doesn’t directly manipulate hormones the way birth control pills do, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
To reassure her further, he explained the prescription in detail.
“I’ll be using a formula called Banchong-san.”
He even pulled up the name online for them to see.
The entry contained little more than a list of ingredients and a brief quote from the Donguibogam.
The doctor chuckled inwardly.
Modern people knew even less about medicinal herbs than martial artists.
So he began explaining.
“Ingredients like atractylodes, licorice root, and poria strengthen digestion. Cinnamon bark and dried ginger directly warm the body. There are herbs that improve circulation as well. The reason the formula contains the character chong is because of this ingredient here.”
He circled one line.
“Congbai—green onion root.”
“A green onion?”
“Yes. It works together with the other herbs and plays a surprisingly important role. It promotes sweating and creates a pathway for cold energy to leave the body. Even ordinary food can become medicine depending on how it’s used.”
“Oh...”
“Of course, I won’t use the exact formula listed here. For your condition, I’ll significantly increase the warming ingredients.”
Yuminha stared at the screen.
Perhaps that was finally the end of her questions.
Or maybe not.
It didn’t matter.
He could explain every herb from A to Z if necessary.
Years of obsessively studying for his graduation exams had prepared him for exactly this.
Ask anything.
Instead, she lowered her head.
“...Thank you. No one has ever examined me this carefully before.”
The words caught him by surprise.
“I’ve tried everything,” she continued quietly. “Every test imaginable. Every kind of painkiller. Pads, menstrual cups, cloth pads. Herbal teas. Pelvic correction therapy. I even tried Swiss chocolate because someone said it helped.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
He could imagine it without hearing more.
“Nothing worked. Eventually I became afraid to hope again. That’s why I didn’t even want to come to the clinic.”
Without a word, he gently took her hand.
A single tear landed on the back of his hand.
“I’ll try it,” she whispered. “I want to place my last bit of hope in this.”
She had made her decision.
“You’ve made a difficult choice. I promise I’ll do everything I can to meet your expectations.”
After giving a few final instructions, he concluded the consultation.
When Yuminha left, her face was completely different from when she had arrived.
It was filled with hope.
“You’re glad we came, right?” Kang Cheolgyu said. “You’re going to get better.”
“Yeah... I think this time it might actually work. Thank you for bringing me here.”
The couple happily paid and left.
The doctor immediately wrote the prescription.
Now all that’s left is to brew it.
A task he normally delegated to his disciples.
Measuring the herbs himself felt strangely refreshing, like returning to his roots.
The sweet scent of licorice drifted through the air as he completed the medicine.
A full month passed.
Yuminha followed the prescription faithfully, never missing a dose.
She avoided cold foods exactly as instructed and received weekly acupuncture treatments.
At first, she had been full of hope.
Then the excitement faded, replaced by anxiety.
With a child to raise, had she really made the right choice spending so much money on herself?
Maybe I should have saved it... Maybe I acted too hastily.
But her worries didn’t last long.
Within a week, she could already feel the difference.
“So this is what it feels like to wake up refreshed.”
Her appetite improved.
She slept deeply.
Most surprising of all, air conditioning no longer felt painful.
She could sit comfortably in cafés without wearing a cardigan.
The annual summer ritual of sleeping separately from her husband had disappeared.
“This is amazing, honey. Really!”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your period hasn’t even started yet.”
“I can tell just by looking at you. Your complexion is so much better.”
The truth was, her worst menstrual pain only lasted three or four days each month.
But for an entire week beforehand, she dreaded how much it would hurt.
And afterward, she spent several more days crying and wondering why she had to suffer so much.
Half of every month had been consumed by pain and fear.
“Looks like it’s almost time.”
“As soon as it starts, we’re going to the clinic. Got it?”
“You sound like you attended the consultation too.”
But this time felt different.
For the first time, she was actually looking forward to her next period.
If the pain was truly gone...
No more swallowing handfuls of painkillers.
No more sobbing and screaming in agony.
No more being trapped by unbearable suffering.
Maybe she could even return to work someday.
“Ah!”
A few days later, exactly twenty-eight days after her previous cycle, she noticed blood on her underwear.
Her period had begun.
Without the usual warning signs.
Without the familiar ache in her abdomen and lower back.
“Let’s go to the clinic right now!”
Kang Cheolgyu looked ready to scoop her up and sprint there.
“It’s Sunday. Calm down. We’ll go first thing tomorrow morning.”
“How do you feel? Does it hurt?”
“Not at all.”
“I hope it stays that way... Wait, I’ll get you a heating pack!”
The two spent the evening nervously waiting for the pain to strike.
But it never came.
The sun set.
Midnight passed.
Her abdomen remained calm.
And nestled safely in her husband’s arms, Yuminha drifted into a peaceful sleep.
For the first time since her very first period...
She fell asleep without taking a single painkiller.
