특별 과외 (2)
I wanted to collapse onto my bed right then and sleep like a stone. But before I could do that, there was one last thing I had to do. Stumbling over, I threw myself onto the sofa and opened the Deceased Doctors Gallery once again.
Finally, I was saying goodbye to these dreadful ghosts, at least for now. Please, don't look for me until tomorrow morning. Just as I was about to close my eyes, praying for peace, the comment notifications began to chime relentlessly.
The atmosphere felt off.
Fuck. What is this? Were these bastards lying in ambush together?
My plea was ruthlessly ignored. Not long after my excuse went up, the first question was posted.
My head throbbed. Xanthopsia, bradycardia, hyperkalemia. I had seen this in textbooks. Cardiac glycosides. Without hesitating, I typed my answer.
As expected, it was correct. A classic case where ignorance could easily kill a patient.
Immediately, the second question flew in.
This was easy too. Altered mental status due to hyponatremia. Since there are symptoms, it needs to be corrected quickly.
The moment my reply went up, the gallery fell into a chilling silence. Then, a barrage of replies began to explode.
What? What's the problem? Panicking, I racked my brain. Correcting it quickly is right. If not, then what... Ah. Fuck. Central Pontine Myelinolysis. CPM. If you correct sodium levels too quickly, the center of the brainstem literally melts, leaving the patient in a permanent vegetative state. It was something I had memorized inside out. In my rush to correct it quickly, I had almost committed a fatal blunder.
I could get this one. Thiamine. Vitamin B1.
I got that one. Thank goodness. But there was no time to rest. The fourth question popped up from an entirely unexpected specialty.
Malar rash? Pancytopenia? Proteinuria? Fuck, what is this? Lupus? Systemic Lupus Erythematosus? It certainly seemed like it... but three specific antibody tests? Anti-dsDNA? Anti-Sm? And what was the other one? My mind went completely blank. This wasn't my field. How was a 1st-year resident in emergency medicine supposed to know this? No, I'm not an internal medicine doctor. There's no reason for me to know this level of detail... In the end, I couldn't write a single word.
Common sense, she says. Sure, it's common sense to that damn old lady. I just closed my eyes. A moment later, the fifth question appeared.
T-wave inversion... myocardial ischemia? But the enzyme levels are normal, and he's not in pain right now? Then should we just monitor him?
The moment my answer went up, the biggest festival of mockery erupted in the gallery.
Crash. Just like that, I got two right and three wrong that day. And two of those wrong answers were absolutely fatal.
Yes, I was in Emergency Medicine. ECGs aside, I had no obligation to know such deep, detailed internal medicine knowledge. This was just too much.
...Silence. I realized that the ghost's words were logically flawless. The emergency room is the front line of all diseases. You can't choose your patients. That was why we had to know wider and deeper than anyone else.
Ah. I'm so tired. Truly... I collapsed right then and there, leaving behind the messy dining table, the shredded pork rind, and my disastrous test results.
My head felt like it was splitting open.
"Ugh..." Groaning, I pushed my upper body up. My shoulders, back, wrists—every single joint in my body creaked. It was the aftereffects of last night's suturing practice, combined with the price of sleeping on the hard floor. Fuck my life. What a piece of trash.
I stared at the dining table with hollow eyes. The brutally shredded pork rind, empty soda cans, and a chaotic mess of surgical instruments lay scattered everywhere.
...Still. Yesterday's sense of defeat was gone. Instead, a strange, inexplicable stubbornness was burning in a corner of my chest. A venomous determination to squeeze every last drop of knowledge out of those crazy ghost bastards since things had already turned out this way.
I stumbled out of bed and splashed cold water on my face. In the mirror stood a textbook hospital slave, complete with dark circles hanging low under his eyes. I flashed a grin at that pathetic reflection. Alright. Let's play again today.
Sitting on the sofa, I opened the Deceased Doctors Gallery with the practiced ease of an office worker punching their time card. Then, as if I had completely forgotten yesterday's disaster, I posted a new thread in the brightest, most energetic tone possible.
But my expectations were ruthlessly crushed by the very first comment.
Yeah, that's more like you guys.