#mk;starters

[drmatthewkim-blog]

// SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME.

@kxmxjxnhee

“Is this really a good idea?” Matthew glanced up at the menacing building, suddenly wishing he was at home with his dog. “Why can’t we just go bowling or something--”

“Matt, shut up,” one of his co-workers, a fellow doctor, rolled her eyes at him. “How long has it been since you’ve even seen a woman not in stirrups or not complaining about morning sickness?” 

“I think I’m rather immune to the female body now,” he responded dryly, but allowed himself to be latched onto by the nurses on his ward. That was the thing with working in a women-dominated field--all of your friends were women. All of your enemies were men. Dating was hard.

So Matthew did what any normal guy would do in his situation: he didn’t date. 

 “Well, I’m ready to get trashed!” One of the other doctors cheered, followed by a whooping from the nurses. Again--all women. If it wasn’t for Matthew’s uneasiness that a group of women were wandering around Seoul’s night clubs in the middle of the night on a Saturday, he would be in bed right now. He looked up once again at the building he was about to be swallowed into--Firestar Night Club. 

He gulped and followed the giddy women into the darkness, where music began to automatically pound into his ears, his heart jumping each time the bass hit the speakers. He could barely make out what anyone was saying, much less be able to keep up a conversation with his coworkers. “I’ll get drinks,” he screamed, miming the universal symbol for drinking and that he was going to pay as the gaggle of women went to claim a booth for themselves. He sighed heavily and shifted in between the sweaty, grinding bodies over to the bar, where he proceeded to order 8 fruity drinks for his tormenters and a gin and tonic for himself. The young doctor slid onto the bar stool as he waited for the drinks, waving at his friends to make sure that a) they were still together, b) they were still alive, and c) they knew that he was definitely not interested in dancing. 

It was going to be a very long night. 

[drmatthewkim-blog]

// GOOD KARMA.

@primrsoe

“I’ll be back soon,” he waved at the nurses’ station, only to receive half hearted waves in return. A chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head--as well as making a mental note to ask the chief of medicine to hire more nurses on his ward so that his own nurses didn’t get overworked so much. 

12:05pm. Perfect timing. He stepped out of the hospital’s lobby and stretched, letting out a loud yawn as soon as the midday sunlight cast over him. It was a little chilly, as expected for a January afternoon, but that didn’t stop Matthew from taking his daily lap around the hospital. He watched the doctors around him put on weight from sitting in front of their computers all day, sitting in front of their patients, just sitting all the time and not doing anything.

Yet they’ll preach until they’re blue in the face to every patient that comes by: exercise and eat healthy. Exercise and watch your portions. Exercise. 

He didn’t know about the others, but Matthew wasn’t going to be one of those hypocrite doctors. A 20 minute lap around the hospital campus, then protein shake, and then to the drugstore for more caffeine pills, he told himself as he stretched out his long legs before beginning his jog. That was the great thing about being a doctor--his daily look consisted of sneakers, scrubs, and a white coat. 

Except when he was running. That was sans white coat. 

“Oh man,” he gasped out loud as he finished his lap, shaking his head. “Why was that so hard today?” He fell back on a nearby street bench just outside of the hospital grounds and groaned. He was getting old, getting fat, or both. “Great,” he muttered to himself before glancing down at his watch. 12:25pm. Another groan came from his chest as he dragged himself off of the bench and down the street to the smoothie bar for his daily protein shake.

Routine was kind of Matthew’s thing. He might not be able to function correctly without it. 

“One chocolate shake with 2 shots of protein, please,” he slid his card over the counter to the barista. And, out of both habit and routine, he glanced around the joint. His eyes rested on a woman just making her way into the shop and he turned back to the barista. “Also charge her order on me, as well.”

He was a believer in good karma. What goes around comes around--he was just waiting for the good now. 

[drmatthewkim-blog]

// INKED UP.

@inkxxxdeath 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Park,” Matthew’s soft voice greeted his last patient of the day with a knock on the door. A bright smile was what he received in return, and he chuckled as he pulled on his blue latex free gloves. “Let’s see what Baby Park is up to today.” He gently lifted her swollen legs up into the stirrups, helping the 8 month pregnant woman get more comfortable on the examination table. 

“You would think they would put more back support on these things,” he heard her mutter underneath her breath, earning another chuckle from the doctor.

“I agree,” he murmured before taking his seat back on the stool and picking up the bottle of gel. He carefully lifted her hospital gown, the bulging stomach greeting him happily. “How’s the morning sickness?” His patient groaned, earning another laugh from him as he spread the gel over her smooth skin. “For what it’s worth, now you have a get-out-of-jail-free card with your husband forever.”

“Damn right!” his patient piped up as he took the wand of the ultrasound machine, carefully moving it across Mrs. Park’s gut. 

“Everything looks good,” he spoke as his eyes zeroed in on the screen where the ultrasound images were popping up. “I think the next time you see me, we’ll be ready to get all of this extra weight off of you.” 

“Finally.” A sigh of relief was heard as the woman tried to sit up. “Hey, doc?”

“Yes?” He leaned over to press a few buttons to make images of his patient’s baby, one for his records and one for her to take home. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a question...” she hesitated for a second, allowing Matthew’s curiosity to increase. “My husband and I... well, we were looking into getting another tattoo.” At the mention of the ink, his eyes flickered to the woman’s arm, where it was half covered in permanent art. “We want to celebrate the baby coming, but we weren’t sure if it would heal correctly if I was busy tending to the baby and not tending to the tattoo. So... would it be okay if I got one now? Like, it won’t complicate anything, right?”

“An odd request,” he chuckled, taking a towel to clean up the mess with the gel he had made on her skin. “Do you have the tattoo artist’s card? I’ll give him a call just to make sure there won’t be any problems.” She reached into her purse and handed him a small business card with more grateful smiles as he stood up to leave, wishing her a wonderful day and to remember to take her vitamins. 

Kumiho Tattoo, the card had read. Artist: Chloe Grey. 

Matthew’s brows raised at the American name--something he rarely saw living in Seoul. Closing his office door, he sunk down on the worn leather seat of his desk chair and picked up his phone, dialing the 10 digit telephone number.