The Aftermath, Part 3
How much time had passed? Lee Min-jae left the emergency room first, saying he would head out. As his footsteps faded, silence returned to the room. I slowly opened the blue window. How were things over there?
Sure enough, the gallery was already in a festive mood. Right at the top of the popular posts list was a thread written by the very person who had just borrowed my body.
Underneath that post, all kinds of comments were piling up.
I scanned the chaotic reactions. Sigh... Well, he did do a good job. I can't deny that. If it weren't for the God of Scalpel's crazy stunt, that patient would already be a cold corpse down in the morgue.
A brief silence fell over the thread after my comment.
The God of Scalpel disappeared after leaving that short reply. I stared at the screen anxiously. What was he up to now? Surely he wasn't going to say something ridiculous like "I'll take full responsibility." You're already dead, man.
A moment later, a new post appeared in the gallery.
I stared at the screen, utterly speechless. Should I laugh, cry, or wring that stick figure's neck?
"Didn't use informal speech?" Well, technically true. Except for when he barked at me to shut up so he could focus. That was a massive improvement. I could practically cry tears of gratitude.
With a hollow laugh, I buried my face in my hands, rubbing my tired eyes.
Good job, you son of a bitch...
I dragged my corpse-like body into the back of a taxi and headed home. The moment I opened the door to my officetel, I collapsed onto the entryway floor, not even bothering to take off my socks.
It was finally over. At least for today.
Ding!
My phone buzzed in my pocket. The moment I checked the screen, my mind went completely blank. The sender was the Education and Training Department.
"Tomorrow? Wait, what? Are they insane?"
When I cut open a patient's abdomen last time, I had at least a few days of grace. Time to write an incident report, let rumors circulate, and mentally prepare myself.
But this time? One day? I was being summoned in less than twenty-four hours?
Why the sudden rush? Did they brand me a rebel and decide to throw me out for good this time?
Yes, I was certain of it. The hospital administration had made up their minds to destroy me!
Two major incidents. A repeat offender. A ticking time bomb.
"Aaaargh! No! I'm totally screwed!" I screamed, banging my head against the entryway floor.
Was this the end? Was my career going to vanish so pointlessly in my second year?
No, I couldn't give up yet. I had to survive somehow.
To do that...
With trembling hands, I opened the blue window once more. My only hope.
At my emergency summon, the God of Scalpel—and a horde of other ghosts clutching virtual popcorn—flocked to the thread.
We spent the entire night preparing my defense. Armed with their advice and whatever excuses I could wring from my own brain, I struggled to build a logical argument to keep myself alive.
I didn't sleep a single wink. Covered in muscle aches and drenched in anxiety, I greeted the morning.
The next afternoon.
The hallway outside the Education and Training Department conference room on the 14th floor of the East Wing.
I stood there wearing the most decent semi-formal suit I had ironed the night before. My palms were slick with sweat, and my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Thump, thump.
"Phew..."
As I tried to catch my breath, the conference room door swung open. A staff member from the department called my name with an expressionless face.
"Dr. Han Hyeon-jae, please come in."
I swallowed hard and took a heavy step forward.
The scene inside the room was strikingly identical to last year's. A long, heavy table. Several professors seated around it.
In the center sat Professor Oh Manseok, the head of the Education and Training Department, looking as stoic as ever. To his left and right were professors from internal medicine and general surgery whom I didn't recognize.
And at the very end of the table, tucked away in my corner, was our department chair, Professor Park Ung.
I stood before the table, my legs trembling.
Professor Oh Manseok looked up from his documents and stared at me.
"...Dr. Han. Didn't we see each other last year for something very similar?"
Tell me about it. It is a bloody honor to see you again, Professor.
I bowed deeply, putting on my most polite, remorseful expression.
"I am deeply sorry to stand before you again under these circumstances, Professor."
I held my breath, waiting for his next words. Every syllable that left his mouth held the power of life and death over me.
Suspension? Salary cut? Training freeze? Termination?
Professor Oh Manseok began rustling through a stack of papers. What on earth was written on them? Would he let me see them if I asked?
After checking the thick stack sheet by sheet, Professor Oh adjusted his glasses and spoke.
"This committee has reviewed the matter regarding the REBOA procedure performed by Dr. Han Hyeon-jae of the Emergency Medicine department, and we have reached the following conclusion."
Wait, what? You're not even going to give me a chance to defend myself? We're just jumping straight to the verdict? No, this is unfair. They really are planning to throw me out.
I swallowed hard, my face pale with resignation. The end had come.
"First, according to the hospital's internal regulations and training guidelines, the REBOA procedure is classified as a component of trauma resuscitation. As such, emergency medicine residents are permitted to participate on a limited basis under the direct supervision of a clinical lecturer or attending staff. While it is highly irregular for a second-year resident to take the lead, we have confirmed that the act is not entirely prohibited by our regulations."
...Huh? Wait a minute. There was a rule like that? Hold on, things are taking a weird turn. Is this a buildup? Are they setting me up just to knock me down harder?
"Second, at the time of the incident, Dr. Lee Min-jae, a clinical lecturer in Emergency Medicine, was present in the resuscitation room as the team leader overseeing the scene. Therefore, the procedure can be deemed to have been performed under the supervision of a licensed emergency medicine specialist."
He did believe in me, but... can you really call what he did 'supervision'? No, wait, this is getting seriously weird.
"Third, the most critical and hazardous phase of the procedure—namely, the final positioning of the catheter and the inflation of the balloon—was executed under the direct supervision and command of Professor Jeon Tae-jeong of Trauma Surgery after his team arrived. The portion performed by Dr. Han Hyeon-jae was limited to the initial vascular access and guidewire insertion. Thus, it is difficult to conclude that the resident solely managed the entire procedure."
Wait, what? The God of Scalpel did everything, including the positioning! Professor Jeon Tae-jeong only took over the wire... No, wait, even then, he just followed the God of Scalpel's instructions. Well, technically speaking, if we look at it that way, did Professor Jeon do everything?
My mind began to spin.
The committee's logic was flawless. Regulations, supervision, and the dilution of responsibility. It made my head hurt, but in a good way.
Professor Oh Manseok checked the final document and delivered the verdict.
"Therefore, taking all these factors into account, although Dr. Han Hyeon-jae's actions were procedurally reckless and highly dangerous, it is difficult to view them as a clear violation of regulations or an act of unauthorized medical practice. Furthermore, considering his decisive contribution to saving the patient's life..."
Professor Oh paused, looking around at the committee members.
"This residency committee hereby rules that this matter shall be resolved with no penalty."
With that, Professor Oh picked up his small wooden gavel and tapped the table lightly.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I couldn't believe my ears.
No penalty? They were just going to let this slide without any disciplinary action?
How was this even possible?
I looked up. Across the long table, tucked away in the far corner, my eyes met those of Professor Jeon Tae-jeong, who had been watching the entire proceeding.
His face remained expressionless, but his eyes held a complex, meaningful gaze.
Was it a silent acknowledgment that he owed me one this time? Or was it a warning that there wouldn't be a next time?
I couldn't tell.
But whatever it was, I had survived.