Is It Not a Cold? (3)
I hung up with Park Wooyoung and immediately looked up the contact number for the on-call Cardiothoracic Surgery resident. My heart was pounding even faster than before.
"Yes, this is Kim Dojin, third-year resident in Cardiothoracic Surgery."
"Hello, senior. This is Han Hyeon-jae, first-year Emergency Medicine resident. I'm calling about a patient."
I kept my report even more concise than before. Surgeons hated long-winded explanations.
"Fifty-four-year-old male patient with an inferior wall MI accompanied by a right ventricular infarction. His blood pressure is currently holding at 90 over 60. Cardiology is planning an intervention, but the patient's condition is highly unstable, and there is a very high probability of cardiogenic shock or cardiac arrest during the procedure. I'm calling ahead of the procedure to request a VA-ECMO standby."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Just as a creeping anxiety began to bloom, making me wonder if I had overstepped my bounds—
"...Wait. You're an EM R1? Emergency Medicine, not Internal Medicine?"
"Yes, that's correct. I'm calling on behalf of the Cardiology fellow."
"...Ah, I see. It's nothing, but that's the cleanest call from a first-year I've ever heard. No fluff. Hang in there. I'm coming down."
The line went dead. I stared blankly down at my phone.
Huh? Out of nowhere? I got praised? How? He didn't even ask any follow-up questions? How? No, why in the first place? Why?
I closed my eyes for a moment. My mind spun in dizzying circles as memories of that night—the night my sacred day off had been utterly stolen, that hellish tutoring session—flashed through my mind like a panorama.
Back then, I had just brushed those words aside... But I guess years of experience really do count for something. Still, I didn't have time to indulge in sentimentality. Why? Because I could hear the rapid thudding of footsteps sprinting toward me from a distance.
The automatic doors of the ER slid open, and a man with a sweat-drenched face burst inside. It was Park Wooyoung, the Cardiology fellow I had just been on the phone with.
Of course, it wasn't like I had seen his name tag or recognized his face. But who else would be sprinting like a madman into this quiet ER right now if not the on-call Cardiology fellow?
"The MI...! Where...!"
"Over here, senior!" I pointed toward Bed B-28.
Park Wooyoung rushed over, checked the patient's level of consciousness first, and then snatched the EKG strip from my hand, scanning it in a mere two seconds.
"It's completely blown. Is the blood pressure still in the 90s?"
"Yes, we've infused 500 cc, but it's barely holding at 90 over 60. His heart rate has dropped to 50."
"Even with fluids running, it's like this? What the... The right ventricle must be completely shot. Total occlusion."
Park Wooyoung muttered to himself as he switched on the portable ultrasound machine. He squeezed gel onto the patient's chest and pressed the probe against it. On the monitor, the image of a struggling heart appeared.
"Look at that movement. The inferior wall and the RV... the walls are barely moving. The diagnosis is definitive."
Park Wooyoung set the probe down and turned to look at me.
"Not using nitroglycerin, giving fluids first, and calling CS... you did a great job."
Park Wooyoung gave my shoulder a firm, appreciative pat. At that moment, another group charged into the ER. It was the Cardiothoracic Surgery team. Trailing behind them was a heavy, lumbering ECMO cart.
The third-year CS resident who had answered my call led the charge, coming to a halt right in front of Park Wooyoung.
"Kim Dojin, third-year CS resident. We came as soon as we got the call. Where is the patient?"
Park Wooyoung pointed to the patient as if he had been waiting for them.
"Ah, CS? The patient is here. He's still holding on, but his condition is... well. We're going to take him up to the cath lab as fast as possible to open it up. If his blood pressure drops further or he arrests during the procedure, I'll call you immediately, so please standby nearby."
"Understood, senior."
The patient's bed began to roll. A forest of IV poles, creaking monitor equipment, and the flurry of medical staff surrounding them moved as one. I stood at the very back of the procession, staring blankly at their retreating figures.
The patient was out of my hands now. Whether he lived or died was up to God, Cardiology, and Cardiothoracic Surgery.
I turned my gaze back to where the bed had been. Once the patient and the medical team vanished into the elevator, an eerie silence settled over the ER bay. All that remained was a piece of gauze on the floor, a discarded syringe cap, and an empty bed that had lost its occupant.
Phew.
As the tension bled away, a crushing exhaustion rushed in to fill the void left by the receding adrenaline. A pitiful growl echoed from my stomach.
Ah. Right. Lunch.
Only then did I remember that I had been on my way to eat. What had happened to Kim Ji-hoon, and more importantly, my spicy stir-fried pork?
I blankly raised my head and looked at the clock hanging on the station wall.
Ah, fuck. My lunch break... It's completely gone. Goddammit.
A wave of futility washed over me.
Ah... my precious stir-fried pork.
I bid a silent, tearful farewell to the spicy pork on the cafeteria menu and trudged back to the station.
The gallery.
What were those crazy ghost bastards babbling about at a time like this? Were they having a heated debate over my heroic exploits? The moment the blue interface materialized, a dry laugh escaped my lips.
I chuckled dryly and clicked on the post. The comment section was already on fire.
Cut the crap. I had simply remembered the information you people shoved into my brain on my day off.
I kept scrolling. The comments showed no signs of stopping.
I stared blankly at the screen filled with praise, analysis, and mockery. To these ghost bastards, this incident was just an interesting case, and I was merely a talented streamer.
These ghosts would never understand. They would never know that the price I paid for playing hero today was losing my spicy stir-fried pork lunch.
Sigh...
I quietly closed the gallery window without even checking the points in the bottom right corner.