Stories about people.

Stories about life.

Hometown Stories.

Iitate Village in Fukushima Prefecture.

Since a major accident at a nearby nuclear plant in 2011, the population has plunged.

It's also rapidly aging.

The village's only doctor hits the road after receiving an emergency call.

Did you fall over?

It hurts!

This woman is 90 years old.

She fell and may have broken a bone.

She probably needs to be hospitalized
outside the village.

But she doesn't want that.

However, in this disaster-hit area,

illness and injury are not the only things the doctor has to worry about.

After the nuclear accident forced this man to evacuate,

he could no longer work as a farmer, and started to show signs of depression.

Don't people grow rice around here?

We could grow rice.
But it'd only be feed for livestock.

I guess it wouldn't sell anyway
because of harmful rumors.

Before the nuclear accident,
we used to grow vegetables.

We'd take them to the market.
That's how we made a living.

We have no more energy to grow things.
There's no hope for this village.

- He's worked hard.
- Good job!

Honda Toru, the doctor, wonders how to help those who have returned.

They're suffering because they can no longer live as they want to.

I want my patients to be motivated
to get better and carry on living.

I want to help them regain
their former sparkle.

I'd like to keep doing that,
and have my ashes buried here.

In a village ravaged by a nuclear accident,

Honda wants to help people to live their lives as who they are.

We follow his journey.

All of the residents of Iitate Village, in Fukushima, had to evacuate

after the accident at the nuclear plant owned by Tokyo Electric Power Company.

In 2017, the evacuation order was lifted for much of the village.

But there are still some areas where entry is restricted.

There are now around 1,500 people living in the village, a quarter of the number before the disaster.

I see a lot of trucks,
maybe for decontamination work.

Honda Toru, a 76-year-old doctor, moved here from Tokyo in 2022.

He works at the village's only clinic.

About sixty percent of the villagers are aged 65 or older, including most of the clinic's patients.

Before the disaster, the clinic was open six days a week, but now that's down to just two.

The local government made the decision based on the sharp decline in population.

I need a favor, Doctor.

I used to get eye drops at
the agricultural co-op pharmacy.

But I hear it's closed.

- Is that so?
- Could you get me eye drops?

What kind?
No more pharmacy, huh?

Honda is the only doctor living in the village.

He takes care of the residents who have returned.

He puts a lot of effort into making house calls.

If there's an emergency, he rushes to see patients at any hour of the day or night.

Hello there.

Honda wants to make sure this patient can live at home and stick to her everyday routine.

88-year-old Kumagai Maki has a progressive lung disease.

Right now, she lives with her son.

It's just the two of them.

You work so hard. Can you
teach me to grow vegetables?

Maki started growing vegetables 70 years ago.

There's nothing she enjoys more.

I worry if I don't come here every day.
I always think, I have to do this.

She wanted to do farm work again in the village where she was born and raised.

So, she came back five years ago.

Her vegetable patch is full of her memories of living in the village.

I used to grow more than I could eat.
So, I'd give some to friends.

They'd say, "Good job, Maki.
You grow such delicious vegetables!"

I've done this here for decades,
so my body knows what to do.

In the spring of 2022...

Maki was having difficulty breathing.

She could no longer walk for extended periods.

Her blood-oxygen level was so low, that she required hospitalization.

I don't want to be hospitalized.

What's the use?
I'd have nothing to do.

If you feel better, you want to
work in the patch again, right?

Yes.

She's been working hard,
farming in this area.

She wants to keep growing vegetables
until her dying day.

I hope to do what I can
to make that possible.

Honda suggested a therapy that allows Maki to get extra oxygen, while at home.

Excuse me...
Maybe this finger.

Your blood-oxygen level is 97%.
That's good. Now, it's 98%.

With regular check-ups, she is now able to live at home.

I only drive to my patch.
My driver's license is just for that.

Maki can come to her vegetable garden, as long as it's only for a short time.

It's what I live for. I may feel tired
after coming home from the patch.

But I'm so glad I can live at home.

You shouldn't have.

I wanted to give you some vegetables.
There aren't many left.

Please breathe in oxygen instead.

Honda became a doctor 50 years ago.

He would often go overseas to treat people with no access to healthcare.

Honda would also visit Tokyo's Sanya district with its large number of day laborers.

Do you crawl to the bathroom?

You can't get there? I see.

Honda has been making house calls for nearly 20 years.

His life as a doctor hit a major turning point after the massive earthquake and tsunami struck northeastern Japan.

His visits to devastated areas in Fukushima brought home to him

just how much the natural disaster and nuclear accident had taken away from people.

People used to be fit to work
both physically and mentally.

But they suddenly lost
what they enjoyed or lived for.

Many of them developed dementia,
or their lifestyle illnesses got worse.

As a doctor, I want to restore their health
so they can find joy in life again.

I'd be glad if I could give them
even a little support.

When Honda thought about moving to a disaster-hit area,

he picked Iitate Village, a community without a resident doctor.

But it's not easy to grant patients' wishes in a village that the disaster transformed so radically.

Hello there.

Did you fall?

It hurts!

Honda has rushed to the home of a patient who fell, and may have broken a bone.

She lives with her daughter, who's in her 60s.

It's just the two of them.

The question is, did she break a bone?

She probably needs to be hospitalized
outside the village.

- But she doesn't want that.
- I understand.

Before the disaster, the village had a home-care service station, but it's now closed.

If family members can't provide sufficient care, patients may need to move away from the village.

It's harder looking after patients here
than where I worked in Tokyo.

People need reliable healthcare,
that they can access safely.

But one doctor alone can't provide that.

I often feel powerless.

In these difficult circumstances, Honda continues to explore different options,

as he tries to figure out what he can do for the villagers.

- How are you? Any changes?
- Not really.

You look well.

Nakajima Masaji is 80 years old.

He lives with his wife and son.

Your charcoal is amazing.
It's a work of art.

After the nuclear-plant accident,

Masaji lost his work as a charcoal burner, a job he'd done for more than 40 years.

I used to sell 300 to 500 sticks
of charcoal a year.

But not since the accident.
There's no one around.

I miss the old days.

Masaji started feeling depressed.

After he returned to the village, he could no longer eat properly because of the after-effects of cancer.

But he refused to visit the clinic, and became weaker and weaker.

My father has no motivation or goals.
He has nothing to do at home.

There's no use making charcoal.
So, he's lost his drive and his hope.

Honda wondered how he could better understand Masaji's feelings.

So, the doctor started by asking about charcoal-burning, Masaji's passion.

When you did charcoal-burning,
you'd be away from home for a month?

And you'd bring boxed meals
to your husband?

I'd walk with him, quite far actually.

- He's worked hard.
- Good job!

I want my patients feel the desire to
get better and keep on living.

I want to help them feel that way.

Values and a purpose in life
make people who they are.

I want to help them hold on to these,
so they don't lose their sparkle.

- His stomach is a little bigger.
- Thanks to you, Doctor.

This is heavy.

Maki's progressive lung disease makes her life difficult.

Six months after starting home therapy, she often appears to have difficulty breathing.

These napa cabbages are amazing.

You have some amazing napa cabbages.
They're bigger than human heads.

Are you feeling OK?

How's your health?
Not bad if you don't move?

Little by little.

- My mother gets really tired.
- She runs out of breath?

- She gets exhausted.
- I see.

You shouldn't be out in the patch
too long without breathing in oxygen.

- Sometimes, no oxygen for 2 hours.
- That's too long. It's not good.

Not good, huh?

30 minutes at most.

Or carry a cylinder. After working for
20 minutes, inhale some oxygen.

- I can't do that.
- That would be a problem.

Maki's illness may progress fast.
I doubt it'll get better naturally.

She may become unable to leave home.
She won't be able to do as much.

One month later...

- My mother has no appetite.
- No appetite?

I made lunch before going out yesterday.
But she didn't eat it.

I see...

- Can I ask you a question?
- Yes, go ahead.

How's her lung disease?

It could progress gradually.

"Maki is slowly losing physical mobility."

"She hasn't been able to
leave home for 1 month."

In January 2023...

Maki has a thorough examination to check on the condition of her illness.

Has the damage spread?

More areas are looking like
tree branches growing.

The examination shows a net-like pattern in Maki's right lung, a sign of breathing difficulty.

With the current treatment, it will be difficult for her to keep living at home.

I'd thought this might happen.
But it's hard, isn't it?

Still, Maki wants to live in her hometown.

I love Iitate.

I've lived here for decades.
I'm really attached to this village.

My whole body says,
"This place is the best."

Honda is wondering what to do.

For Maki to live at home, she will need a new treatment and increased care.

But he figured he wouldn't be able to do everything by himself.

We might be able to detect side effects
if we could check on her weekly.

But we just don't have enough
caregivers or nurses.

They're all working hard enough.
We're already understaffed.

Honda brings nurses who make house calls.

They have a busy schedule.

But he pleaded with them to help.

I'm with a house-call nursing provider.
It's been a while since I saw you last.

You were taking a walk at 4 a.m.

Honda has decided to use a drug that will temporarily help Maki breathe more easily.

He's working with nurses, so someone will be able to look in on her frequently to check for side effects.

You have a sturdy hand.

- From all the work.
- That's right.

I feel relieved when I see your face.

"After the doctor's visit
on this day..."

It's wonderful.

If I get better, I may grow
vegetables around here.

Or I'll harvest butterbur
in the patch and eat it.

I'll teach my son how to cook it.

"After that, Maki's condition
suddenly worsened."

"On March 24, 2023,
she passed away at home."

"Her son was there for her,
as she fought her illness until the end."

I believe she mostly lived
as she wanted to.

She fully enjoyed working in the patch,
and had friends nearby.

The nuclear accident must've given her
all kinds of trouble.

But at the end, she lived as she wanted.
So, I'm happy for her.

"Honda's second spring in Iitate Village."

Hello there.
How are you, Masaji?

When patients have little time left,

it's crucial to figure out
what they choose or want.

You want to listen to their stories
about how they've lived their lives.

That helps them feel alive again
and regain their sparkle.

I want to walk the path with them.

- Have one, Doctor.
- That's very kind of you, but...