Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: TIME IS BRAIN (3)
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The moment the ambulance's back doors swung open, a familiar air greeted me. The smell of disinfectant mixed with blood, and the mingled stench of every human suffering imaginable.
I'd arrived back at the ER, pulling the stretcher in my hoodie and sweatpants.
Anyone who saw me would've pegged me as an off-duty civilian—or more like some neighborhood bum out for a stroll.
But the stretcher cart I was dragging in, and the grandma fighting for her life on top of it, proved this was no joke.
"Han Hyun-jae?"
"Didn't he clock out?"
"What's with the sweats...?"
My fellow residents and nurses at the station whispered as they spotted me.
I ignored their stares as best I could and handed the patient off to Choi Soo-min, the third-year on ER duty who'd already come running after the heads-up.
It had been about thirty minutes since I'd punched out.
Fuck.
"Seventy-year-old female, found on a bus. Onset about forty minutes ago. Clear left-sided hemiparesis and dysarthria. Vitals stable right now..."
I relayed the situation as quickly and concisely as possible. Only after turning her over to Choi Soo-min did I finally catch my breath.
Choi Soo-min shot me a baffled look, but she quickly shifted her focus to the patient.
"Got it. Good work, Hyun-jae. You really busted your ass, so head on home now."
"Yeah."
I gave a curt reply and stepped back.
The patient was hooked up to monitors and IV lines in seconds, whisked straight to CT to check her brain.
I watched from afar, then quietly made for the ER entrance.
My role was done. For real this time.
I pulled my hood low, minimizing my presence, just needing to slip through those automatic doors.
Freedom, my bed, my goddamn rest—it was all right there beyond that door.
Just as I was heading out, the doors slid open.
And I locked eyes with the guy standing there.
Director Park Woong.
Head of emergency medicine. Living disaster.
Why here? Why now?
"Oh! Y-you're Han, right?"
The director hadn't recognized me at first in my off-duty getup, but then his eyes went wide.
Busted. Completely caught.
"Good evening, Director."
"Aren't you off the clock? What's with the casual clothes in here?"
He eyed my outfit curiously, but then something clicked, and he clapped my shoulder with a booming, jovial laugh.
"I heard about it the other day—you pulled off something amazing, Han! Caught an MI from a sore throat complaint?"
Myocardial infarction from a sore throat. Word had already reached the director.
"Haha! That's not just atypical—it's a case of a case, practically a mutation! And a first-year snags it? You're one hell of a guy!"
Mutation's a bit much, Director... Turns out it's not that rare.
His praise poured out like a waterfall.
But none of it registered. I just kept my head down, staring blankly at the floor with empty eyes.
...
My mind was filled with one single thought.
Ah, fuck.
My commute home.
The director's one-man show of cheer dragged on for a full five more minutes.
Once he learned I'd brought in a stroke patient from a bus today, he started praising me like I was the second coming of Jesus to emergency medicine.
Isn't this just what a first-year should handle?
I took every bit of it with soulless "Thank yous" and robotic ninety-degree bows.
Finally, another professor called him away, freeing me from hell.
"Then I'll be heading out."
I bolted from the ER.
***
Finally. Finally over.
Finally... actually off the clock...
I trudged out to the main road.
The bus stop was visible in the distance. But I couldn't bring myself to head that way.
Thinking about what I'd been through in that metal box today gave me chills.
No bus this time. Taxi it is...
Going through all that shit and riding the bus again? That'd make me not human—just an amoeba without learning capacity.
For the first time in my life, I decided to splurge on the way home.
I deserved it today.
***
I took a taxi.
The driver glanced at my hollowed-out face in the rearview, then wordlessly pulled away.
Sinking into the plush leather seat finally let the tension drain, leaving my whole body heavy.
I stared into space and opened the blue window in my head. Time to give my one line of communication—those ghostly bastards who now felt like weird war buddies—a final report.
Title: Bus Stroke Patient Follow-up.
Poster: HellJoseonSlave1
Straight to the point. Called 119, sent her to our hospital's ER. They're probably scanning her CT and thrombolysing or draining the clot by now. My part's done. Fucking exhausted. Taxi fare hurts.
BloodClotIsHell: Good job, Anon. That's 100 points for field response. Without you, that grandma would've ridden to the end of the line before anyone noticed.
NeurologyGhost: If you'd hesitated even ten minutes, she'd be bedridden for life. You did something huge. A moment that'll stick with you forever.
I couldn't help but crack a faint smile reading the comments.
Yeah, maybe I did okay today.
Satisfied, I closed the gallery window, ready to catch some shut-eye.
The taxi's gentle sway felt like a lullaby.
Tired.
So damn tired. Just want to forget everything and sleep.
My eyelids grew heavy as lead, consciousness fading—
Ping-
A new gallery notification popped up, unbidden.
LatteIsJustWords: Alright!
Fuck, startled me.
LatteIsJustWords: Outstanding real-world experience today! So, what do you need to handle out-of-hospital emergencies perfectly from now on?! Study! Time to start 'Street Emergency Medicine Survival' study session! First topic: Airway management!
My eyes snapped open.
What?
Study? Now? Here?
HeirOfHippocrates: Ooh, splendid idea! O living one! If a patient stops breathing right in front of you, what can you do?!
God's Scalpel: Explain the difference between head-tilt/chin-lift and jaw-thrust first. Do chin-lift on a trauma patient, and you could paralyze them from a C-spine injury!
The ghosts went wild, chattering excitedly.
Gone was the warm praise from moments ago—they were back to ravenous drill sergeants itching to devour me.
I stared blankly at the taxi ceiling.
...Ah.
Save me.
LatteIsJustWords: Found a seizing patient on the street? You wouldn't shove anything in their mouth like an idiot, right? Secure the airway and clear nearby hazards first!
I didn't even have the energy to reply.
***
"We're here."
Before I knew it, the taxi had stopped in front of my familiar officetel.
I stumbled out, a total wreck.
"Drive safe."
The taxi vanished into the night without a backward glance.
I stood alone on the empty road.
Whew. Finally over. Truly.
Just open that door, and my space, my bed, awaits.
I summoned the last of my strength and shuffled to the officetel entrance.
Rode the elevator, hit my floor button.
Ding—the doors opened, and I stood before my front door.
Before punching in the code, I reached into my pocket out of habit.
My little companion to block out the world and grant me pure alone time.
...Wait. Fuck.
No hard, smooth plastic case under my fingers.
Checked the other pocket. Nothing. Hoodie pocket. Back pants pocket. Gone.
Just then, the taxi's backseat flashed in my mind.
Wireless earbuds. Left them behind.
No thought of calling or chasing it down.
Nothing goes right, fuck.
Saved a stroke patient? Big deal.
In reality, I'm the idiot who can't even keep track of his own earbuds on the way home.
I gave up on everything.
Ignored the ghosts yapping nonstop, unlocked the door.
God's Scalpel: So, for heavy bleeding—pressure on the bleeding point first, or tourniquet?!
ㄴ Anon (39.7): Depends on the situation, dumbass. Arterial bleed? Tourniquet, obviously.
Shut up.
Please, just shut up.
I slipped off my shoes and stepped into the dark apartment.
No energy to flip on lights or change.
One goal.
Bed.
I staggered to the bedroom. The ghosts had moved on to debating burn care.
Anon (118.235): Run cool water over it for at least ten minutes—basics!
LatteIsJustWords: No ice water! Makes tissue damage worse!
I let their bullshit fade into background noise as I threw myself toward my sole sanctuary.