Chapter 73
Chapter 73
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Hope? (2)
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“Let's begin.”
Everyone held their breath.
But on the battlefield, silence was never an option.
Even amid the chaos, the system had to keep running.
Lee Min-jae left the madman performing the procedure on the patient to handle everything and started checking the systems in the back.
Lee Min-jae whispered to the trembling Park Seong-jeong.
“Intern.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Charting. You got all the meds administered by time, the types and amounts of fluids? From now on, note it down by the second. Every word I say, every action God's Scalpel takes, every change in the patient's vitals—all of it. What's charted so far?”
Park Seong-jeong fumbled over the whiteboard he'd scribbled on, his face on the verge of tears as he read it down.
“Uh, arrival at 09:14. Started loading 1 liter of NS at 09:16. Tranexamic acid 1 gram at 09:18. MTP activated simultaneously, and two units of Rh- O type pRBC transfused two minutes later. STAT labs still...”
“That's enough.”
Lee Min-jae nodded as he listened to the concise briefing.
Even if the world collapsed, the records had to remain.
They were the only lifeline that might save our necks later.
At the center of all those whispers and clamor, the owner of my body focused every nerve on a single point.
The faint cross-section of the femoral artery pulsing on the ultrasound monitor.
And the skin, fat layer, and muscle covering it.
God's Scalpel's left hand subtly adjusted the probe to find the perfect angle, while the needle in his right hand trembled faintly.
I held my breath.
Right now.
The moment the needle tip pierced the patient's skin.
“...”
His hand stopped in midair.
Just before the needle tip touched the skin, he halted all movement.
Why?
What's wrong?
God's Scalpel slowly turned his head.
And he looked down at his chest.
At the ID badge that read [Emergency Medicine Han Hyun-jae], with my name on it.
“Han... Hyun-jae.”
God's Scalpel awkwardly murmured my name.
“Yeah, Hyun-jae. Sorry about that.”
...
...What?
What the.
What the fuck.
What are you sorry about, you crazy ghost bastard?
A burning circuit sound echoed in my head.
Sorry?
Now?
In this situation?
No way, right?
Not what I'm thinking, right?
'Sorry, Hyun-jae. On second thought, this seems beyond my abilities. I don't want to ruin your medical career by stepping in recklessly, so I'll be heading out.'
...Not that, right?
'Sorry, Hyun-jae. My hand slipped just now and tore the aorta. This patient's got thirty seconds left, and you'll be a murderer.'
...Definitely not that.
While the me inside screamed in terror and rage, the temporary owner of my body revealed his true intentions.
“Uh, you there. Quiet down for a sec. Let me focus.”
...
Ah.
No, this crazy bastard!!!!
I realized.
He wasn't apologizing for his own failure or the patient's death.
So, in this critical situation, with Lee Min-jae and Park Seong-jeong whispering among themselves, God's Scalpel was expressing—as politely as his antisocial ass could manage—'Shut the fuck up.'
My medical career was turning into a social skills textbook for a ghost with a shattered personality.
A madman who lacked social skills down to the genetic level.
God's Scalpel returned to perfect focus, concentrating all his nerves on the monitor and needle tip.
He looked up at the black-and-white fluoroscopic image projected by the C-arm.
The outlines of the patient's pelvic bone and femur appeared ghostly and faint.
“Radiology tech. From now on, pulse it short and continuous. Until I say stop.”
“Yes, got it!”
The tech's tense voice replied.
Beep, beep, beep.
With the short bursts of sound, the C-arm monitor began flickering in real time.
God's Scalpel probed the patient's groin again with the ultrasound.
On the screen, the femoral artery pulsed as a black, round circle.
He tilted the needle to a 45-degree angle.
And in one smooth motion, he thrust it under the skin.
There was none of the hesitation or hand tremors I dealt with every time I drew blood.
How does he have hands like that?
I could do blood draws now... but for a second-year, my hands were still embarrassingly shaky.
The subtle resistance as it pierced skin, passed through fat, and crossed the fascia.
And finally, the moment the needle tip precisely pierced the center of the vessel on the monitor.
Bright red arterial blood spurted out like a small fountain behind the needle.
A perfect one-shot success.
From the corner of the trauma bay, a very low murmur of admiration escaped.
“Oh...”
Some of the younger staff's mouths hung open in awe.
“He put it in so fast. So skilled.”
“One shot, just like that.”
“But... isn't this usually done by trauma surgery profs or interventional radiology folks...?”
“Shh. Quiet.”
The murmurs swelled like waves.
In the back, Lee Min-jae was on the phone.
“Yes, blood bank? This is Emergency Medicine Lee Min-jae. Trauma patient in Trauma Bay 1, yeah, MTP's active but we're running late. Keep sending in 1:1:1 ratio packs. Packed RBCs, FFP, platelets. Yes. Don't stop, keep 'em coming.”
“Vitals: BP 52/palpable, HR 168. Dropping. Careful.”
Han Jae-eon's calm voice rang out.
Amid all the noise, God's Scalpel showed no disturbance and moved to the next step.
He smoothly slid a thin, J-tipped guidewire into the needle.
A slender silver line appeared on the C-arm monitor.
It glided forward.
My fingertips twitched continuously.
Carefully, so carefully, his fingers made tiny, minute adjustments.
Like handling a living creature, adjusting the wire's direction ever so slightly to avoid damaging the vessel wall.
How the hell do you do this insane shit?
I'd never survive specializing in this.
How does a human thread that tiny fucking wire into a vessel?
Modern medicine is bullshit.
Everyone watching held their breath.
At the sight of that thin silver line snaking up the vessel on the C-arm monitor, the entire trauma bay fell silent.
In the middle of this surreal procedure, robbed of control over my own body, I could only savor the view from the front-row VVIP seat.
No popcorn here, huh?
Right then, the trauma bay door burst open as a nurse rushed in, practically screaming.
In her hand was a freshly printed A4 sheet, still warm.
“Doctor! STAT labs are back!”
At her shout, Lee Min-jae reflexively reached out.
He snatched the paper and scanned the numbers like a maniac.
“pH 7.1, lactate 12, potassium 6.5, hemoglobin 5.8... Oh man, it's completely tanked.”
A sigh burst from Lee Min-jae. Without letting go of the phone in his other hand, he barked orders at the nurse.
“Bicarb two amps IV push right now, prep one amp calcium gluconate. Tell the blood bank to keep platelets and FFP coming in ratio.”
As he rattled off orders like a madman, the owner of my body ignored it all as if it were from another world.
Where did this superhuman focus come from?
I could only guess.
The owner of my body didn't twitch.
His gaze was locked solely on the guidewire dancing on the C-arm monitor.
The wire had passed the iliac artery and was steadily advancing toward the lower abdominal aorta.
Watching it, Lee Min-jae asked me—no, God's Scalpel.
“Where you going? Below the renal artery, right? Pelvic bleed. Almost there.”
The question made sense.
The biggest issue right now was the blood pouring from the pelvis.
Worst complication rates and survival odds.
For pelvic fractures, Zone 3 REBOA below the renals was standard.
To preserve blood flow to kidneys and bowels as much as possible.
Even blocking the aorta, some vital organs had to be spared—that was the line.
But the words from my mouth, courtesy of God's Scalpel, deviated slightly from what I knew.
“No.”
Without taking his eyes off the C-arm, he replied indifferently.
“We're inflating in Zone 1.”