That night, I completely lost the ability to choose not to search.
When people feel anxious, they somehow believe that gathering more information will make them feel better.
In reality, it often does the opposite.
My laptop screen was filled with articles about knee pain.
Medical terms, treatment options, personal stories, advertisements, conflicting opinions.
There was no shortage of information—
just no clear answer.
It felt like I had wandered into a massive maze.
At first, it was casual.
“Let me just look this up.”
But before I knew it, it turned into:
“What exactly is this condition?”
“Can it heal?”
“Will it get worse?”
The questions pulled me deeper and deeper.
I started seeing the term PRP over and over again.
Platelet-Rich Plasma—
a treatment that uses concentrated platelets from your own blood to promote healing.
“So… basically, using my own internal repair kit?”
That was the simplest way I could understand it.
For the first time, it made a little sense.
Maybe the human body is more capable than I give it credit for.
But of course, that only led to more questions.
“Does it really work?”
“Does it work for everyone?”
“What happens if it doesn’t?”
The search results kept throwing hope and doubt at me, one after another.
It felt like being stuck on an emotional roller coaster with no exit button.
At some point, I realized I was completely lost.
I was reading articles that had nothing to do with my condition—
even medical cases from overseas.
Apparently, when people get anxious, they start collecting information whether it’s relevant or not.
That’s when my wife Misaki spoke from behind me.
“You’re still looking things up?”
“Yeah…”
“So, is anything getting better?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Then maybe you should close it for now.”
She was absolutely right.
And like most things that are absolutely right, it was also difficult to follow.
“Just a little more…”
“You’ve said that for the past hour.”
She sighed, but gently placed a cup of tea next to me.
As I stared at the rising steam, something crossed my mind.
Maybe I wasn’t actually searching for answers—
maybe I was just searching for reassurance.
At that moment, I reopened the clinic page I had seen earlier.
It said:
“We provide personalized treatment plans tailored to each patient.”
It was a common phrase.
Almost cliché.
But for some reason, it stuck with me.
As I kept reading, I saw more than just PRP.
There were mentions of high-concentration PRP…
and something called stem cell therapy.
Stem cells.
The word itself sounded futuristic—almost like something from science fiction.
But the more I read, the more I realized
this wasn’t some distant, experimental idea.
It was already being used.
A method that activates the body’s natural ability to repair itself.
I leaned closer to the screen.
“If this could actually fix it…”
Something shifted inside me.
I was no longer just sitting there with fear.
I was starting to think about making a choice.
I picked up my phone and opened the clinic’s contact page.
The phone number was right there.
My finger hovered over the screen.
I was still scared.
I didn’t know if it would work.
I didn’t know how much it would cost.
I didn’t know how painful it would be.
But at the same time, another thought quietly surfaced:
“Isn’t doing nothing even scarier?”
I didn’t have an answer yet.
Next: Episode 4
“The Clinic That Rescued Me from Review Hell”
—And finally, I make the call.