A Third Journey Through Korea's Health Care System

January 5, 2026 Richard 1 Comments

I underwent arthroscopic surgery on one of my knees to repair a torn meniscus at Yonsei Severance Hospital in 2012. I do not remember the name of the doctor, the month, or whether it was my right or left knee, but the other had been done in Austin in 1998—a perfect match. I am much clearer about the next such event, wherein Dr. Sung-hoo Hong (reputed to be the top urologist in this country) used Da Vinci robots to take out my cancerous prostate. That was in October 2022 at Catholic University of Korea Seoul St. Mary’s Hospital. In my most recent checkup with Dr. Hong, I told him that I almost certainly had a hernia—probably two and maybe even three. He lost no time in making an intra-hospital referral, directing me to Dr. Jung-hoon Bae in the general surgery department. Many years my junior, he got his medical degree at CUK. He diagnosed me on November 4 (there were indeed three—an inguinal hernia on the right side of my groin, a femoral hernia on the left side and an umbilical hernia a couple of inches north of my belly button) and we had another confab on December 16 in which I got a CT scan and he educated me about hernias and their treatment; as to whether there was a connection between this and Dr. Hong fixing my prostate in 2022, he said it was entirely possible but that there was no way of knowing. The day before yesterday, he employed the same Da Vinci robotic equipment to place mesh on my abdominal wall to keep my intestines from protruding, risking strangulation and possible death. Oh, yes, hernias kill an estimated 40,000 people each year. It is not something to be ignored.

I have been to this much-respected medical facility (the fourth-ranked hospital in Korea) dozens of times, ordinarily taking Line 2 of the Seoul subway west to Seocho and then the shuttle bus north to the hospital. Playing it safe this time, I had a friend use her phone app to summon a taxi for me. As I waited for its arrival, I got a best-wishes phone call from Andrea Urbano in the Philippines. I dropped in at the Catholic-oriented chapel and bent the knee. I was directed to the 16th floor and showed my ID card to pair of pretty nurses who were much less than half my age; there would be many more over the next 2 1/2 days. One of them escorted me to my new “home” partitioned off by means of curtains from those of three other men.

I was told that Dr. Bae would be performing surgery on me at 12:30 p.m. the next day. Although there was a television room down the hall, that was not for me. At least four years have passed since the last time I watched TV. Spare time would be used by jumping around the Internet with my smart phone and reading The Dictionary of Religion, a splendid 1,152-pager edited by Jonathan Z. Smith and William Scott Green. I love to learn.

Dinner was institutional food, which is no compliment. But it was OK. Dr. Bae stopped by on this New Year’s Day. In fact, he then proceeded to meet with my roomies—all Korean, of course. I took a couple of walks around the ward and reflected on what was about to transpire. I was eager to have these hernias repaired, as one (bottom right) had been bothering me more and more in recent weeks.

I did not sleep at all that night, which might seem to indicate nerves or fear, but I assure you that was not the case. A nurse with a flashlight came by twice to check my temperature and blood pressure; she informed me that the latter was slightly low. She must have known that this can be good news—indicative of a strong heart and well-developed circulatory system. It comes from my having been a jock all my life.

I was instructed not to drink water after midnight. In fact, that would be the rule until 9:30 p.m. Around noon, I got a bit upset when a nurse said the good doctor was running behind. Finally, a tall man in a white medical smock came and asked me to climb up on a wheeled bed. The show was now on the road! An IV drip was connected to my left arm, a surgical cap was placed on my head (I had already put on a surgical gown—no socks, no undies), and we went out into the hallway and then an elevator. He put me in the corner of a big pre-op room and left me there for nearly 30 minutes.

He came back and wheeled me into an equally big operating theater. As I was flat on my back and fairly uncaring about the other patients, I did not bother to look around. It may have been just where Dr. Hong had fixed my prostate three years earlier. Surrounded by five husky young Korean medical assistants, all staring down at me, I knew the time had come. One of them placed an anesthesia mask on my face and instructed me to breathe deeply. Just like that, I was out. How close Dr. Bae was when all this was happening and how the robots got inside my body to start their work, I do not know.

What I do know is that about 90 minutes later, I began to emerge from a fog. I heard a female voice telling me to open my eyes. My mouth was dry, and I was hurting and weak, but I was able to issue a command of my own: “Pain killer!” Without delay, action was taken in that regard.

Back home on the 16th floor, I found myself making much the same sounds as other patients did after surgery. I may have asked for yet more pain-numbing medication that night, although I really do not remember. Having three hernias repaired is no walk in the park, and it now seems odd that I had expected little pain. My brain did not stop spinning until Sunday morning.

This is as good a place as any to recognize the valuable work done by my ex-GF, Audrey Lim. Bilingual and possessed of a nimble mind and a kind heart, she could grasp a situation quickly, talk with a nurse and then come back to me, having resolved it or ready to explain it. I called her no fewer than 10 times on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. One of the nurses went ahead and wrote down her phone number, knowing she would be needed again. It helps that Audrey has such a charming manner.

Saturday morning came, and I was ready to get moving back to Yeoksam, where I live. First, however, I shook hands and said a genuine goodbye to Mr. Song, Mr. Song and Mr. Hyun, with whom I had lived these last two-plus days. Then, it was time to pay up. Dr. Bae had estimated 7.5 million won for the whole thing—hadn’t he? I was dismayed to see 10.8 million as the final figure. Audrey again. She talked to the lady in the admissions/discharge office who said 7.5 was just for surgery, and the miscellaneous stuff drove it up another 3.3. I had to go to the ATM at Woori Bank and withdraw cash since 2.6 was the limit on my card; I have no idea why. Back to admissions/discharge, where the lady behind the counter had gone from cold and bureaucratic to almost warm. My debt to the hospital was gone, but just barely.

This was an expensive operation, but Dr. Bae had told me at the beginning that he did not use old-style laparoscopic tools. Somewhat less precise than robotics, laparoscopy is nevertheless a solid and proven way to perform surgery; it’s not like only old-fogey docs use laparoscopy. Furthermore, Korea’s National Health Service generously pays for laparoscopy (2.5 million won in my case), but not robotics. That is seen as “elective” which means something less than truly necessary. Dr. Hong had strongly recommended robotics in 2022, but he left it up to me. In retrospect, it seems that perhaps I should have insisted on the far cheaper laparoscopy to fix my hernias—even if this meant going with a different doctor or even a different hospital. Too late now.