Securing the Airway is Critical (1)
8:00 AM. It wasn't the sound of my alarm that woke me. To put it simply, I woke up to the sound of every muscle in my body screaming in agony. I was in the exact same state as last night, having collapsed onto the bed without even taking off my clothes.
As I dragged my creaking body up, my shoulders and lower back popped and cracked, sounding like my joints were violently rearranging themselves.
"Ughhh... I'm so stiff..."
Rising like a zombie, I shuffled toward the kitchen. I pressed the button on the electric kettle and pulled the largest mug from the cupboard. On a day like today, a regular Americano wouldn't cut it; I needed to down espresso as if I were drinking poison. Only then did it feel like my brain would actually wake up.
Outside the window, the weather was blindingly clear. It was, without a doubt, the perfect morning for a day off. Of course, that had absolutely nothing to do with me.
While the coffee brewed, I sat on the sofa and habitually opened the blue window before my eyes. Seeing how I couldn't quit this damn gallery even after the absolute shitshow on my way home yesterday, I must be seriously addicted. Suppressing my exhaustion as best as I could, I posted a new thread with a morning greeting.
Yes. Today, I wouldn't let those bastards push me around. Today would be the day I took control of the conversation against these ghosts. But my ambitious plan was shattered by the very first comment.
The initial greeting was short and concise. But the sentence that followed was the problem. It was a statement that was practically a death sentence for my entire day off.
...? I doubted my own eyes. What? Resume right now? What? What is this crazy bastard spouting? These insane bastards are trying to ruin my day off again. I hurriedly tapped on the keyboard—no, tapped my thoughts. Is "tapped" even the right word? Whatever.
What absolute bullshit. I began my final struggle. This wasn't just a whiny complaint about not wanting to do it; it was a highly realistic problem.
At my desperate cry, the ghosts fell silent for a moment. Then, they began posting comments that were so utterly idiotic, I couldn't believe they came from any form of intelligence.
Am I insane? Why would I voluntarily study something I didn't even want to?
Where the hell am I supposed to get a pig's lung, you lunatic? Am I supposed to go to a street food stall that sells blood sausage? The only somewhat realistic suggestion came from a passing anonymous user.
A simulation room. Of course we had one. A practice lab equipped with all kinds of expensive equipment for medical students, EMTs, nurses, and residents. But that place was...
At my scream, the gallery fell silent once more. Alright, let's establish a plausible hypothesis. Why are these crazy bastards acting like this? These damn ghosts are dead. Because they're dead, they've forgotten all the realistic constraints of the shitty hospital system. Therefore, my rational deduction was that these ghosts possessed nothing but pure medical knowledge and a twisted desire to teach it.
Sigh... I stared blankly at the steam rising from the kettle. In the end, on my precious morning off, I found myself stranded on the living room sofa, tasked with the most useless assignment in the world: "How to perform endotracheal intubation on a non-existent mannequin." Fuck, what was I actually supposed to do? These crazy ghost bastards seemed to think I was some cartoon character who could pull out any gadget whenever I asked for help. Did they think if I yelled "Intubation mannequin!" one would just pop out of my pocket?
After a long silence, I was the first to surrender. Even if I held out like this, those ghost bastards would undoubtedly spout endless sophistry about the importance of securing the airway until my day off was over. Rather than listening to their bullshit, it was better to pretend to cooperate and get it over with quickly.
I reluctantly opened my laptop. I typed "medical simulation mannequin" into the search bar. Countless shopping mall links flooded the screen. The price range was all over the place. I uploaded an image of the cheapest CPR doll I could find and posted it to the gallery.
Fuck. Their standards are sky-high. Gritting my teeth, I scrolled down to find a much more expensive professional model to show them. 'Realistic anatomical structure, capable of endotracheal intubation.' The price was 2.3 million won.
These bastards, seriously. It's not that I don't know that, it's that I don't want to waste my own money, my money! You sons of bitches. Judging by their reactions, these ghosts must have packed plenty of funeral money for the afterlife. Why don't they share some of that cash with me? Regardless, the fact that I couldn't refute a single word made it even more infuriating. In the end, it was a fact that I needed to practice incisions too.
With trembling hands, I added the "Cricothyrotomy capable" option to the search. The price of the mannequin that appeared on the screen made me doubt my eyes. 8.9 million won. It was nearly ten million won. These insane ghost bastards.
Since I didn't comment and just stared blankly at the screen in despair, the ghosts began debating fiercely among themselves.
Yes, Descendant of Hippocrates. You're the best of the lot. As I watched their idiotic yet surprisingly productive debate, an idea flashed through my mind. Right, I can't buy it anyway. In that case... I threw out a final proposal to bring the debate to an end. Of course, I didn't mean it.
The gallery fell quiet for a moment at my suggestion. Soon after, Descendant of Hippocrates posted a comment with the distinct nuance of someone slapping their knee in realization. No, I was absolutely certain this bastard actually slapped his knee.
Fuck. Here it comes.
And just like that, the debate concluded with the most idiotic resolution in the world. I stared blankly into space with hollow eyes. A 1st Year Resident. On his day off. Calling the Department Chair. To ask, "I want to study so badly, so could you please let me use the simulation room by myself?" Was I out of my mind?
But the ghosts were already in a festive mood.
I reluctantly picked up my phone. Then, I scrolled through my contact list and found the five characters: "Chief Park Ung." Fuck. Do I really have to do this?