Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chaotic First Conference (2)
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I wandered through the massive convention hall to complete my mission of plundering Lee Min-jae's merchandise.
In my hand, I already clutched a pen emblazoned with a pharmaceutical company's logo and two ridiculously high-quality character Post-its.
Not a bad haul.
At this rate, I could stock up on a full year's worth of stationery.
'Next up is that medical equipment booth over there.'
Academic conference? Presentations?
None of that was my business.
Just as I was heading to the next booth, burning with such worldly desires, I felt the gallery erupt in noise from a quick check-in.
It was because of the 'Mid-Mission Goods Report.txt' post I'd just uploaded.
Latte is Talking: This lunatic goes to a conference and skips studying to hoard freebies! Kids these days have no thirst for knowledge, no thirst at all!
Hippocrates' Heir: O living one! In this sacred hall where the feast of knowledge unfolds, how can you indulge in such base greed? What makes a few pens so irresistible? Head to the Grand Ballroom right now and absorb the wisdom of the sages!
Cardiology Ghost: The Plenary Lecture topic is the latest insights on septic shock. You see sepsis cases every day in your ER. Stuffing one more bit of knowledge into your brain helps save patients a hundred times more than some pens.
Ugh, enough with the nagging already.
I swallowed my curses and tried to ignore their clamor. But they were persistent.
In the end, I surrendered.
There was no beating these knowledge-thirsty ghosts.
Tears in my eyes, I trudged toward the massive Grand Ballroom.
The Grand Ballroom was huge and dim.
A giant screen dominated the front, displaying the face of a white grandfatherly professor from Johns Hopkins, larger than life.
I claimed the perfect spot: the back row corner, as inconspicuous as possible.
Prime napping territory.
But the ghosts wouldn't let me sleep.
Respiratory Ghost: From now on, relay everything the professor says, every word on the slides, word for word. No mistakes.
Reluctantly, I straightened up and stared at the screen.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: It's about new phenotypes of sepsis. The old SIRS criteria had high sensitivity but low specificity, so now we look at qSOFA alongside changes in SOFA score... something like that.
Latte is Talking: Hmm, back in my day, SIRS was practically scripture. The world's changed a lot.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: Next slide. Meta-analysis on HAT therapy—high-dose vitamin C, thiamine, and steroids combined. Conclusion: 'Insufficient evidence, not recommended.'
Hippocrates' Heir: A wise conclusion. Hasty faith is the scholar's greatest enemy.
I felt like a real-time simultaneous interpreter.
In the gallery, the ghosts launched into heated debates over my relays.
'That data's unreliable.'
'We had that concept back in my day.'
'No, that's a completely new approach.'
Cardiology Ghost: Screenshot that earlier slide. Tracking those numbers to decide when to stop antibiotics looks important. Don't overdo antibiotics and breed resistant bugs—study stuff like this instead.
Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I forcibly memorized the key slides.
The boring plenary finally ended, and I tried to bolt...
But sadly, the ghosts had other plans.
Hematoma is Hell: It's just getting started. That oral presentation session you skipped out of fear earlier. Critical care medicine. Let's go. ARDS prognosis prediction model. Sounds fun?
In the end, I headed to the adjacent small seminar room.
A young professor took the stage and began presenting on 'Development of a Prognosis Prediction Model for Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome Patients'—a topic that made my head spin just hearing it.
God's Scalpel: Those variables on screen are the key.
***
I was on the verge of tears.
My hand flew across my smartphone's notes app like mad.
My brain was about to explode from stats terms and data I couldn't even comprehend.
'Fucking exhausting...'
After enduring more forced sessions like that, I was finally freed.
My brain... my brain felt fried.
I collapsed into a chair in the corner of the hall and stared blankly at the frantic notes I'd scribbled.
New sepsis definitions, antibiotic strategies, ARDS prognostic factors, post-resuscitation protocols...
'...But this is...'
Amid the crushing fatigue, a tiny realization sprouted.
'...Private tutoring you couldn't buy for any price.'
I let out a hollow laugh and checked my watch. 1:45 PM.
Time to awkwardly stand in front of my poster soon.
I headed to the massive hall displaying posters with Kim Ji-hoon.
Hundreds of panels stretched endlessly, each manned by young doctors like me—soulless eyes, pacing in front of their preserved research.
We took our positions in front of the giant paper emblazoned with our names.
"Hey, not nervous?"
Kim Ji-hoon swallowed dryly.
"About what."
"I mean, professors are gonna come by and grill us with questions. What if we screw up the answers?"
"No one's interested in first-year posters anyway. Just stand here, wait out the time, rip it down, and go home."
My sole goal: haunt this spot like a ghost for the next two hours, minimize energy expenditure, then bolt to the hotel the second 4 PM hit, poster be damned.
That's when it happened.
"Hey, kids!"
A bright voice called from behind.
Professor Chun Eun-jeong.
"Professor! Good to see you!"
Kim Ji-hoon and I reflexively bowed 90 degrees.
"Yes, yes. All set?"
Professor Chun scanned our poster with a highly satisfied look, then dropped devastating news.
"Just got word from the organizing committee—the poster session time got adjusted. You and Ji-hoon, it's not 2 PM, it's 4 PM now!"
...
...Come again?
4 PM? Two more hours from now?
"Why the sudden change...?"
Kim Ji-hoon barely managed to ask.
"The oral sessions ahead ran long, I guess. Anyway, that's the deal. Great timing!"
Great timing? Is this woman sane?
"You've got two extra hours—go check out more presentations! Saw a resident oral session over there with some intriguing topics. Watch a few; you'll learn a ton. Anyway, I'm off! Bye!"
Professor Chun flashed us a 'fighting!' gesture and vanished into the crowd without a backward glance.
I just want to stand here quietly.
No more presentations.
My brain's melting.
Argh.
"Fuck..."
Kim Ji-hoon muttered beside me.
"Can I just crash on that lobby sofa over there?"
I gazed longingly at the plush leather sofas in the distant hotel lobby.
"Get caught by a professor, and you'll be forcibly nominated for next year's oral presentations."
Kim Ji-hoon said.
"Ji-hoon."
"Yeah."
"I'm already getting dragged into orals next year for that laparotomy case anyway..."
Our conversation ended in silence.
Two hours.
No clue how to kill this pointless time.
"What now?"
Kim Ji-hoon asked in a dazed voice.
"What can we do? Breathe."
"No, seriously, you gonna stand here for two hours? Wanna head back to that critical care session?"
I shook my head.
"Look over there."
I nodded toward a small seminar room with a sign: [Resident Oral Presentation Session].
"Not many professors there. Just us low-ranks presenting and listening—less pressure. Perfect spot to hunker down and kill time."
At my reasonable suggestion, Kim Ji-hoon nodded reluctantly.
A new presentation was starting inside.
I grabbed the back corner seat and idly read the title on screen.
[Stress Cardiomyopathy: A Typical Case Report of Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy]
Oh, interesting.
Takotsubo. A rare condition where extreme mental stress tanks the heart's tip motion, mimicking a myocardial infarction.
Named because the heart resembles a Japanese takotsubo pot.
The presenter read the case in a trembling voice.
"65-year-old female patient presented to the ER with sudden chest pain one week after her husband's death..."
I started relaying to the gallery.
But the ghosts' reactions were ice-cold.
Latte is Talking: Why watch something this boring?
Cardiology Ghost: Takotsubo. Textbook case. EKG looks like STEMI, coronaries clean, echo shows the apex ballooning like a loner. Yawn.
I might get dragged into resident orals next year too.
Gotta preview how presentations work, slides, Q&A.
Not someone else's problem.
The talk proceeded smoothly. Patient results popped up on screen one by one.
EKG showed clear ST elevation.
Cardiac enzymes slightly elevated.
But the coronary angiogram video: arteries pristine, no blockages.
Hmm, classic findings.
Finally, the cardiac echo.
The patient's heart on screen matched textbook images: lower portion ballooned like a deflated balloon, weakly twitching.
Diagnostic for Takotsubo cardiomyopathy.
The presenter concluded.
"Thus, this case can be diagnosed as typical Takotsubo cardiomyopathy triggered by extreme stress."
Yeah, yeah.
Textbook case.
Good job.
I mulled whether to move for the next session.
Right then.
Cardiology Ghost's comment on the photo I'd uploaded hit my brain like a truck.
Cardiology Ghost: That's not Takotsubo.
???
What bullshit.
EKG, angio, echo—all point to Takotsubo. What do you mean?
Did this old coot finally lose it?
Or just trolling out of boredom?
Cardiology Ghost: See the myocardial wall thickness?
Wall thickness?
Takotsubo's a motion disorder, not thickness-related.
I didn't get it.
I looked back at the echo on screen.
...Huh?
Something was off.
Stress-paralyzed myocardium should thin out like a balloon.
But that apical wall wasn't thin—it looked way thicker than the rest of the heart.
A faint memory from med school cardiology lectures surfaced.
Apical hypertrophy.
A genetic cardiomyopathy with totally different mechanism from Takotsubo.
Can worsen with stress, often hard to differentiate...
In that instant, every puzzle piece in my head snapped toward one horrifying conclusion.
This presentation, from start to finish.
Was completely wrong.