What does it mean to care -- deeply, instinctively, and culturally? In this series, "Caring the Korean Way," we explore the distinct practices, beliefs, and values that shape how Koreans care for themselves and each other. From time-honored folk remedies to modern reinterpretations of healing, each story offers a window into the unique ways care is expressed in Korean life. -- Ed.

Kwon Hyun-joong was a small kid, but not in a way that worried anyone -- at least not until the first day of elementary school. At the opening ceremony, standing in line with his classmates, he looked like he’d wandered into the wrong grade. The other kids weren’t just a little taller. They were a head taller.

That was the moment, his mother said, she realized just how small he was. “He was average height when he was born,” she said. “But as he got older, he just seemed so far behind. I started to wonder if I hadn’t raised him well enough.”

After two years of weighing the pros and cons of growth hormone therapy, his parents decided to go ahead, injecting him with growth hormone six times a week. He was eight. Now, at 12, he does them himself before bed. Over four and a half years, he grew 27 centimeters -- about 10 inches -- but at 147 centimeters, he’s still one of the shortest kids in his class.

“This year,” his mom said, “he asked me if the shots were even working. He said, ‘Should I just stop?’”

He’s not the only one wondering.

What’s a few centimeters worth?

In Korea, growth hormone injections are supposed to be a treatment for a rare condition --- growth hormone deficiency, which affects a tiny percentage of children. But a new government-backed study suggests most kids getting the shots aren’t medically diagnosed at all.

They’re not sick. They’re not stunted. They’re just... short. Or average. Or, in some cases, already taller than their peers.

And still, they shoot up hormones.

A national survey of 991 parents found that 60 percent of children using growth hormone injections in Korea were doing so without any formal medical diagnosis. One in six was already taller than average for their age group.

“This was the number that really stayed with me,” said Dr. Yun Ji-eun, who led the study for the National Evidence-based Healthcare Collaborating Agency (NECA), in an interview. “It tells you something about what’s driving these decisions. It’s not clinical need.”

The Korean growth hormone market reached 480 billion won, or about $345 million, in 2024 -- more than double what it was five years ago. The number of pediatric patients has jumped sevenfold in a decade.

Most families pay out of pocket. Korean health insurance reimburses only for children below the third percentile in height and only with a certified diagnosis. But demand has surged anyway, fueled by what doctors describe as anxiety and what marketers call aspiration.

Kwon’s family has spent nearly 28 million won ($21,000) on hormone treatments. “It’s a lot,” his mother said. “Still, we estimate that without it, he might have grown 2 or 3 centimeters less.”

Which raises the question: how many centimeters is enough?

https://www.koreabiomed.com/news/articleView.html?idxno=28406

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5825629&forum_id=2\u0026hid=#49612828)