Aftermath (1)
When I opened my eyes, the first thing that greeted me was the familiar fluorescent lights of the ER ceiling. Right on its heels, an excruciating wave of pain washed over me like a tidal wave.
"Ugh..."
Groaning, I turned my head and saw an IV line hooked into my arm. To think I'd end up lying in a corner bed of the ER, hooked up to an IV drip. Checking the clock, it looked like about three or four hours had passed since I blacked out.
If I'd known the penalty would hurt this much, I wouldn't have used it... Argh... I wailed internally. This wasn't muscle soreness; it was torture. That bastard, God of the Scalpel. He got to scurry back to the afterlife all relaxed, leaving me to deal with this agony.
As I writhed in pain, the curtain beside my bed slid open. It was Park Se-yeong. Her face was a complicated mix of exhaustion and conflicting emotions.
"...Hyeon-jae," Se-yeong said, dragging a chair over to sit by my bedside. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm dying..."
"Your blood work and EKG are all normal, so don't worry too much." Se-yeong fell silent for a moment before speaking in a heavy voice. "Since you seem to be in pretty severe shock right now, you can write it tomorrow."
I was briefly touched by her consideration. She's actually worried about me. "Huh? Write what...?" I asked back in genuine confusion. Did she mean I could do my backlogged charting tomorrow?
"The incident report."
...Excuse me? The incident report? That cursed document detailing the course and cause of an event, signaling the start of all disciplinary actions and lawsuits?
"Yes, you saved the patient. In terms of the outcome. But the process... you know how it is, right? This isn't just a minor procedural violation; it's a massive incident that could turn the entire hospital upside down. Professor Kang Hyeon-jun from Trauma Surgery seems inclined to let it slide, but the hospital's Ethics Committee and legal team won't see it that way."
Every single word stabbed into my chest like a dagger.
"For starters... write down why you made that decision today, what the situation was, from start to finish in extreme detail. No excuses, just the facts. Follow the five Ws and one H." She stood up. "Have it written and submitted to me by tomorrow morning. Got it?"
With those final words, Park Se-yeong pulled the curtain shut and left. Left alone in the empty bed, I stared blankly up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
As I lay there in a daze, a low murmur of voices began to drift through the thin curtain. They were anonymous voices—I couldn't tell if they belonged to nurses, medical technicians, or just administrative staff.
"Hey, did you hear? The resuscitation room was absolute chaos earlier."
"What happened?"
"They sliced him open."
"Sliced what?"
"His belly! They sliced open a patient's belly!"
"What? Sliced his belly open? But why is that a big deal? Didn't they just do emergency surgery? In the OR?"
Right, that was the common-sense reaction. But from the very next line, the conversation took a turn for the insane.
"No, that's the thing... it wasn't a surgeon. An Emergency Medicine doctor did it."
"What?!"
"And not even in the operating room, but right here in the ER resuscitation room!"
"Oh my god. Are they insane?"
Pure shock dripped from their whispering voices. I closed my eyes. Please, stop right there.
"But do you know who did it? It's even more mind-blowing."
"Who?"
"A first-year resident! You know, the guy who caught the myocardial infarction from a sore throat!"
"That guy? He sliced someone open? Why? Is he completely out of his mind? Did he just snap and try to kill the patient?"
No, I didn't. I did it to save him. But the silent plea in my heart couldn't reach them.
"But do you know what's even crazier? The patient survived! And it was incredibly successful!"
The murmuring reached a fever pitch. To those folks, I had already transcended the boundaries of a normal human. I was a genius, and a lunatic.
It was right as I was being forced to eavesdrop on my reputation violently oscillating between heaven and hell in real-time.
Whoosh. With a loud clatter, the curtain was violently yanked open. It was the fourth-year resident, Yoo Sung-hoon.
Sung-hoon dragged a chair over and slumped heavily into it beside my bed.
"...Your body." His first words were brief.
"I'm fine." My reply was equally short.
We stared at each other in silence for a moment. Amidst the awkward quiet, Sung-hoon was the first to speak.
"Hey... so... you know..." Sung-hoon massaged the stiff back of his neck, seemingly finding it hard to start.
"Yes, senior."
"It's nothing else." He took a deep breath and finally cut to the chase. "Are you out of your mind?"
His voice was dead serious. It was a question of 100% pure bewilderment.
"No, seriously, did you just want to commit social suicide? An open laparotomy in the ER? Did you want to become a legend? Or did you just say 'screw it all' and throw your life away?"
Sung-hoon kept going, not even expecting an answer from me.
"And what is up with your hands anyway? I remember clear as day, even in the middle of this year, you couldn't even insert a basic IV line properly and left patients' arms covered in bruises. Don't you remember me running around cleaning up your messes? But with those hands, you grabbed a scalpel and sliced open a man's belly? In the middle of that absolute madhouse?"
"Well, senior, that, I... you see..." I tried to offer some sort of excuse, but he had no intention of listening.
"Do you even know what you've done? Do you have any grasp of what you committed, or how serious this situation is? Sigh... whatever. Forget it."
Sung-hoon ruffled his hair as if he wanted to tear it out, then spoke with a resigned expression. "Anyway. The incident report is due by tomorrow morning." He looked at me again. "And... the informal speech... sigh... Seriously, why on earth did you speak to everyone informally?"
His face showed genuine incomprehension. "Were you just incredibly stressed? Or did you watch too many medical dramas? Or... what, did you get possessed by a ghost or something?"
I stopped breathing the moment I heard that. Oh, the last one is actually the correct answer. But Sung-hoon immediately shook his head with a look that said, What am I even talking about?
"Anyway, whether it's an Ethics Committee or a Disciplinary Committee or whatever the hell... they're going to convene. Well, it's not confirmed, but they probably will. Even if you saved the patient, it's an undeniable fact that you ignored protocol. There's a mountain of training regulations they can use to trip you up. Just make sure you write that incident report properly."
With that, he stood up. "Get some rest. See you tomorrow morning." The curtain closed once more.
Sitting up in bed with my laptop open, I stared blankly at the blank Word document before me. At the top of the screen, the words Incident Report were stamped like a death sentence for my medical career.
How am I supposed to write this...? What on earth could I write to make the crazy stunt I pulled yesterday even remotely understandable? Clutching my head, I drafted a few scenarios.
Scenario One: Honestly admitting I was temporarily insane.
I, Han Hyeon-jae, was so overwhelmed by the patient's critical condition at the time that I lost my reason, forgot my duty as a physician, and impulsively...
...That was just certifying myself as a lunatic. The moment I submitted that, I'd be branded as a "dangerous individual who slices open patients when stressed" and immediately referred to the highest level of the disciplinary committee. If I was lucky, I'd get suspended.
Scenario Two: Spinning a legendary lie that I was actually a hidden master.
I, Han Hyeon-jae, have always had a deep interest in emergency trauma care and have secretly honed my surgical skills. Judging that the situation at the time was fully within my capabilities to control...
... "I'm actually pretty amazing, and since the patient was about to die, I just did it myself." There wasn't a senior in the world who would like a junior spouting that kind of crap. Not only would I be permanently buried in the residents' office, but I'd also spend the rest of my life being called "that crazy bastard."
Scenario Three: Just giving up and writing a sob story.
I, Han Hyeon-jae, burning with a passionate sense of duty to save a fading life, unconsciously received a divine revelation and...
...This would send me straight to the psychiatric ward. Instead of an incident report, the Ethics Committee members would be looking at a request for a psychiatric evaluation.
"Sigh... fuck." I slammed my forehead onto the desk. There was no answer. No matter which path I chose, only hell awaited me.
At that moment, the only escape route flashed through my mind. If it was those lunatics, they might know some bizarre trick to get out of this mess. Clutching at straws, I logged into the Deceased Medical Scientists Gallery.
At the very top of the forum's popular posts list, there was a piping hot new thread that had just been uploaded.
That son of a bitch...!
Trembling with rage, I scrolled down to the comments.
While my entire medical career hung in the balance, these bastards were happily chatting away like they were sharing reviews of a new VR game.
At my desperate cry, God of the Scalpel made his leisurely entrance.
...Do you look like you give a shit?
I was momentarily speechless at that comment. Right, that was the most important thing. What was the patient's current status? Suppressing my anger, I logged back into the hospital's EMR system.
Admitted to the TICU (Trauma Intensive Care Unit).
I frantically read through the surgical records and progress notes written by Trauma Surgery.
...Patient's vitals are currently stable, and the prognosis is expected to be positive...
Letting out a hollow laugh, I replied to the thread again.
At my profanity-laced report, God of the Scalpel left a brief, satisfied reply.
I almost slammed my fist onto the table at that "lol". Barely holding onto my sanity, I got to the point.
As if they had been waiting for my question, all sorts of ghosts swarmed in, pouring out their respective advice.
...If I said that, I wouldn't be delivered from a crisis; I'd be delivered straight to a padded cell.
Watching the parade of absolute nonsense filling my screen, I fell into a deep state of existential dread.