"Choco Papa`s Health Note"

145/95. Two numbers. That's all it took to scare me more than any fastball I ever faced in professional baseball. I was 55 years old, sitting in a plastic chair at my annual health checkup (건강검진, geongang-geomjin), watching the nurse unwrap the blood pressure cuff from my arm. She wrote the numbers on my chart without expression. No alarm. No warning. Just two numbers and a quiet "the doctor will discuss this with you." When the doctor came in, he didn't waste time. He pointed at my chart and said: "145 over 95. Stage 2 hypertension. How long has it been like this?" I had no idea. I hadn't checked my blood pressure in three years. Maybe five. "Do you feel any symptoms?" he asked. Nothing. No headaches. No dizziness. No chest pain. I felt completely normal. I'd had lunch with a client two hours earlier — samgyeopsal (삼겹살), two bowls of rice, soybean paste stew. A normal Tuesday. He looked at me and said something that still echoes in my head...