Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chapter 42 - 편두통 (1)
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Translator: crow
Chapter 42
Migraine (1)
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The next day.
I woke up before my alarm even went off.
The aftereffects of that brutal muscle pain still lingered all over my body, but strangely enough, I felt as light as a feather.
Was it the relief of having survived?
I took a shower and spent a good five minutes more than usual blow-drying my hair.
Then I picked out the cleanest clothes I had and put them on.
Today was a good day.
The first day of my extended medical career, like a blessing.
My steps toward the emergency room felt incredibly light.
The automatic doors slid open, revealing the familiar hellish scene, but today even that felt endearing.
The colleagues shuffling around like zombies from overnight shifts, their bloodshot eyes—they somehow seemed to sparkle today.
I couldn’t contain the positive energy welling up inside me and shouted energetically at the first nurse station that caught my eye.
“Haha! Good morning, nurses! Have a great day!”
My booming greeting halted every movement at the station. The nurse charting overnight backlog, the one prepping meds, the one getting ready for handover—they all stared at me with expressions screaming, *Has this guy finally lost it?*
Undeterred by the icy stares, I pressed on.
I marched forward.
Passing the lab, I flashed a big smile and waved at the medical technicians lugging samples with exhausted faces.
“Haha! Good to see you too, medical techs! Let’s power through the day!”
The techs gawked at me, nearly dropping their specimen tubes.
“Hey! Good to see the admin staff too! And our security guards keeping the ER safe—you guys agree it’s a beautiful day? Haha!!”
I gave them all thumbs up.
The admin clerk almost slapped the patient he was registering, and the ever-stoic security guard’s mouth twitched open slightly.
“...”
With that, I sauntered off into the doctors’ lounge.
***
It wasn’t until the lounge door closed and Han Hyun-jae was completely out of sight that time in the frozen ER started flowing again.
“...Hey.”
The most senior nurse spoke up first.
She stared down the hallway where Han Hyun-jae had vanished, whispering incredulously to her colleague.
“What’s up with Han? Did he eat something bad? He pulled an all-nighter writing that incident report last time—was that what finally blew a fuse in his brain?”
“Right? Yesterday he was practically a corpse.”
“The Han Hyun-jae I know doesn’t smile that brightly. Why’s he acting like a maniac today?”
“Exactly. First time I’ve seen someone that chipper in the morning. Among doctors, anyway. Hell, among humans.”
That’s when a medical tech jumped into the conversation.
“Oh, come on, you didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“That thing came out.”
The senior nurse narrowed her eyes.
“What? Oh, that? The bellyacher’s disciplinary committee?”
“Yeah.”
The tech glanced around and lowered his voice.
“Word spread like wildfire from the education office and admin this morning. Reprimand and one month’s pay dock. That’s it. No formal committee referral.”
The young nurse’s jaw dropped.
“No way? For real? After all that chaos?”
“Ah~”
The senior nurse let out a long sigh of realization.
“No wonder he’s bouncing around like an idiot. Thought he’d get fired, but it’s just a pay cut. Makes sense he’s acting crazy.”
She turned back to her monitor.
“Let him be. He hit the jackpot. For today, he gets a pass on being a lunatic. Innocent. Totally innocent.”
And with that, the ER settled back into its usual frenzy under the consensus: *Han Hyun-jae isn’t crazy—he just cheated death and feels on top of the world.*
***
I tossed my bag into my beat-up locker as soon as I entered the lounge.
I tore open a packet of instant coffee mix, dumping it into a paper cup while pondering how to survive the day. That’s when it happened.
BAM!
The lounge door flew open like it might shatter.
There stood the living disaster of emergency medicine, my natural predator and department head, Lee Min-jae.
“Is what I heard... true, Han Hyun-jae?!”
I put on my most innocent *I have no idea what you’re talking about* face.
“Yes? What is it, sir?”
“What is it? You pretending not to know?”
Lee Min-jae stormed over and grabbed my shoulders.
“You! Dared to! In the ER resuscitation bay! Perform a resuscitative laparotomy?! And it’s true?! A guy who hasn’t even finished proper trauma training?! It’s a miracle! A sign from the gods! And this is exactly why you can’t run off to another department—you’re burying your bones in emergency medicine!!!!!!”
*Argh, sir, I get it!! Please stop with the bones! I’ll bury my own, thank you!*
His passionate shaking made my head rattle like I might get a concussion.
Finally, he released my shoulders and stepped back, eyeing me again.
“Anyway...”
He spoke.
“Let’s calm down and talk. Han Hyun-jae. I’m sincerely impressed.”
“Not just the outcome. The process, the judgment. From what I heard, you didn’t make a single mistake in that chaos. And... you didn’t hesitate in the most critical moment. That’s not a first-year move. Truly impressive.”
I scratched the back of my head, embarrassed, but his gaze sharpened again.
“But.”
Lee Min-jae stared straight into my eyes.
“Your hands—they weren’t total trash?”
He hit the nail on the head.
“I remember clearly: just a few months ago, you couldn’t even get an IV without bruising arms black and blue. And suturing? Your hands shook so bad I finished for you more than once.”
His eyes brimmed with suspicion.
Sweating bullets, I pulled out the same flimsy excuse I’d used on the training committee.
“W-Well... I’m still clumsy with basic stuff like IVs or simple sutures. But in a special situation like this... y’know... surgical techniques I’ve simulated endlessly in my head... I tapped into insane focus in the moment...”
Lee Min-jae listened to my lame excuse in silence.
“Hmm... I see.”
His eyes still screamed doubt.
He probably didn’t buy it. Just as he was about to grill me more—
Screech.
The lounge door creaked open cautiously, and an intern poked his head in.
“Uh, Dr. Lee. Time for your peds ER shift, but the kid patient’s crashing...”
“Oh, already that time?”
Lee Min-jae stood, giving me a loaded look.
“I’ll head out. We’ll talk later.”
He squeezed my shoulder hard.
“You’re staying in EM! Got it!”
With that, he bolted without a backward glance.
*Please, let’s never cross paths again... no more overlapping shifts...*
Talking to that guy drains more energy than CPR on a cardiac arrest.
***
After the lounge commotion, I dragged my empty soul back to the station.
I processed charts mechanically, fingers moving on autopilot.
Admissions, discharges, transfers.
The dull, draining routine felt comforting, for once.
No unpredictable variables here.
About an hour later, the triage nurse called me on the intercom.
“Dr. Han, could you check a headache patient in B section?”
“Yes, got it.”
Here it comes. Headache.
Along with colds and bellyaches, one of the top three non-emergent ER regulars. Infuriating repeat offender.
*Well, the ER doesn’t just get gut-shot or arterial噴泉 patients.*
Relieved, I stood.
Heading to triage, I glanced at the chart the nurse had just entered.
[28/F. C.C) Headache, Nausea. V/S: 125/80-88-20-36.8-99%]
28-year-old female.
Chief complaint: headache and nausea. Vitals stable.
She sat at the triage desk chair, pressing her temples.
Young woman.
Comfy hoodie and sweats.
Pale face, dark circles like she’d pulled several all-nighters.
Classic look of a modern K-worker ground down by the grind.
Web designer, she said.
Chasing deadlines, sleepless nights—I felt that kinship.
She saw me and spoke with near-enlightened relief.
“Doctor... it’s probably just a bad migraine. Happens sometimes. No time to come to the hospital, so I toughed it out, but today it’s too much... Can I just get a painkiller shot and go?”
“Ma’am, lie down on that bed over there for a bit? I’ll check a few things and get your IV started.”
I guided her to an empty bed in B section.
Once she lay down, I drew the curtain and began the basic history and exam.
“When did the headache start? Whole head, or one side?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Right temple throbbing like a pulse. Kinda foggy too.”
“Sensitive to light or sound?”
“Yeah. Fluorescent lights making me dizzy even now.”
“Any recent head injury, fever, or stiff neck?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
Every answer matched textbook migraine perfectly.
I finished with a neuro exam.
Checked pupils with a penlight, motor strength in limbs, facial sensation.
All clear.
Pupils symmetric, no weakness or sensory deficits.
No red flags for stroke or meningitis anywhere.
Diagnosis: near-certain. Acute migraine, worsened by overwork and stress.
Back at the station, I sat at the computer.
Just prescriptions left.
*What IV fluids first?*
Could jab her butt with a pain shot like she wanted and discharge.
Quick and efficient.
But for someone who’d pulled all-nighters, it felt too harsh.
Probably dehydrated too.
*Let’s give her a bag of fluids.*
I opened the order screen.
Standard normal saline, 1 liter.
Now, what to mix in.
Painkiller ketorolac and antiemetic metoclopramide were basics.
*...Vitamins?*
The so-called nutrient IV. Yellow mix of B vitamins, C, magnesium, all the minerals.
I clicked vitamin B complex and added it to the order.
*There, special cocktail for the K-worker.*
I smirked and hit enter on the final order.
She’d get the yellow fluids, nap for an hour, and leave refreshed.
Peaceful, everyday perfection.
I leaned back in my chair after hitting enter.
Phew.
Finally catching a break.
As I debated brewing some instant coffee to savor the calm, a familiar voice rang from the nurse station.
“B-09, 28-year-old patient. NS 1L with ketorolac, metoclopramide, vitamin mix, right?”
“Yes.”
My order, just placed.
The nurse grabbed the IV bag and med tray, heading to B.
My path to the bathroom happened to overlap.
As she pulled the patient’s curtain, I absentmindedly glanced inside.
Routine scene: tourniquet on arm, alcohol swab hunting a vein.
Patient averting her eyes, scared of needles.
I kept walking.
That’s when I spotted it.
A faint bluish bruise on the inside of her right upper arm, where the nurse had swabbed.
Uh... bruise on her arm?