An Odd Fellow (2)
When I finally came to my senses, I found myself dragged into the Emergency Medicine Residents' Office. I was standing there like a criminal on trial.
"What's the deal, Han Hyeon-jae? Was that clumsy, clueless act you've been putting on this whole time just a performance?!"
Standing right in front of me was the fourth-year Chief Resident, Dr. Lee Min-jae.
...Ah, for fuck's sake. Why am I even here? My mind went completely blank.
It had happened right after I admitted the ciguatera patient and was finishing up my backlog of charting. Someone had said, "Hey, Dr. Han, the chief is looking for you." Those words alone had sent my heart sinking straight to the floor.
I was absolutely convinced that my little slip-up—swearing in front of my senior, Dr. Choi Sumin—had finally reached the chief's ears. But the very first words out of his mouth completely shattered my expectations.
"Answer me!!! Han Hyeon-jae!!! Why have you been playing dumb all this time?! Huh?!"
The chief grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. He sounded like he had a screw loose.
"...I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You're sorry?! VEXAS syndrome! And what, ciguatera?! Does it make any sense that a first-year resident—an EM first-year, of all people—caught two extremely rare cases back-to-back that even Internal Medicine couldn't diagnose?!"
Honestly, his reaction was completely justified. For the past few months, the chief had been busy running around covering up all kinds of messes I'd made. When a drunk patient grabbed me by the collar, or when a patient's guardian complained because I failed to insert an IV line five times in a row, he was the senior who had stepped in to bail me out.
Lee Min-jae's dramatic lamentations continued. "I trusted you, Hyeon-jae...! I believed that even if you caused a few accidents, you were a good, quiet kid at heart! But how could you pull a hidden camera prank like this on me?! My heart! My poor heart can't take this!"
"No, Senior, it's just..." The moment I tried to squeeze in an excuse, Dr. Yoo Sung-hoon, another fourth-year resident who was lying like a corpse on the worn-out sofa in the corner of the office staring at his phone, spoke up without moving an inch.
"Hey, Min-jae. Give it a rest and sit down. You're embarrassing yourself."
"Shut up, Yoo Sung-hoon! I'm channeling the pure passion of my youth when I wanted to major in theater and film to interrogate Hyeon-jae right now! My inner method actor is awakening!" the chief shouted, but Dr. Yoo only snorted.
"Cut the crap. Theater and film, my foot. Maybe a comedian, if anything."
"Why, you little..." The chief glared at Dr. Yoo for a second before turning his gaze back to me.
"Anyway, Hyeon-jae. Tell me the truth. It's one of two things."
"Was the Han Hyeon-jae who couldn't even insert a single IV line properly, got chewed out constantly, and wandered the hallways with vacant, unfocused eyes all just an act? Or are you some kind of freak of nature who is completely useless with his hands but has a brain specialized solely for internal medicine?"
An actor, or a freak. I couldn't answer. I couldn't exactly say, 'One day, I suddenly started seeing an online community of deceased doctors, and I've been cheating off them.' But I couldn't claim it was an act, either. Because up until just a few hours ago, I really had been a soulless, struggling first-year resident drowning in a flood of patients.
What answer would get me through this bizarre interrogation in one piece? A master actor, or a half-baked genius? Excluding the ugly truth that 'I'm actually a cheating bastard,' there were only two paths I could take to survive this.
Option one: A legendary actor-doctor. The premise that I was actually an all-powerful, overpowered genius who could do everything, but had been pretending to be clumsy to maintain the hospital's hierarchy and peace, and to show humility as a rookie. This was insane. The moment I chose this route, I would be crowned the ultimate sociopath of the department. People would whisper behind my back: 'Is that the crazy bastard who told the chief to his face that he's a genius?'
Option two: A half-baked genius with useless hands. The premise that while my brain was brilliant, my physical skills—namely, my procedural abilities—were still strictly at a clumsy first-year level. This was actually somewhat realistic. There are definitely people in the world who are brilliant in theory but completely hopeless when it comes to manual dexterity. Of course, I might get teased for having "clumsy hands" for the rest of my life, and it was a fatal flaw for an Emergency Medicine doctor who needs to perform hands-on procedures in emergencies. But at least I wouldn't be treated like a lunatic.
Fuck, choosing the first option would mean giving up on being human. Right, since things had already come to this, I had to commit to a concept.
"The truth is, I've studied an insane amount!!!" I decided to survive by playing the character of a nerdy, book-smart tryhard who was physically clumsy but tried his best.
At my shout, the chief's eyes narrowed. "Oh, is that so? Studied? And not just a normal amount, but an insane amount?" His voice was a fifty-fifty mix of suspicion and anticipation.
"Yes! That's correct!"
"Even rare diseases? You're saying you memorized every single textbook cover-to-cover, including things like VEXAS and ciguatera that most doctors might not see once in their entire lives?"
"Yes, sir!!!" Like Pavlov's dog, I was mechanically shouting affirmations to his questions.
"Really? Well, that's great. From now on, let's have Dr. Han handle all the internal medicine cases that come into our ER. There's no need to assign a senior, fellow, or attending to supervise you, right?"
...? What? No senior supervision? I won't be able to consult the fellows and attendings, who are harder to approach than seniors but always give perfect answers? Wait, can a chief resident even decide that on his own? Surely not? Can he?
"...Pardon?" For a moment, I doubted my own ears. What did he just say? "I think I misheard you?"
"I mean, you said you studied like crazy. You diagnosed things even third-years didn't know. If you're that good, shouldn't you be able to see and diagnose most internal medicine cases on your own?"
Cold sweat poured down my spine like a waterfall. This crazy man was testing me. If I answered, "Yes, that's right!" here, I would literally be saddled with every single internal medicine patient starting tomorrow. Without the forum's help, I might not even be able to tell simple gastroenteritis apart from pancreatitis and end up killing a patient. Of course, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but there was no guarantee the forum would always provide quick answers twenty-four hours a day. I needed a safety net.
"N-no, sir! Senior! It's just that I've only learned from books, and theoretical knowledge is completely different from actual clinical experience! I still desperately need the rich experience and wisdom of my seniors..."
As I desperately babbled excuses, the chief finally couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. "It's a joke, a joke. Look at how pale this kid's face just got."
The chief patted my shoulder and said, "I know, I know. It's a classic trait of guys like you. Smart as a whip, but a total coward because of a lack of real-world experience. Actually, I was the same way. Back when I was a first-year, I saw a new-onset LBBB (*Left Bundle Branch Block) on an EKG (*electrocardiogram)..."
"That story again?" Dr. Yoo Sung-hoon muttered from the sofa, sounding utterly exhausted.
The chief flared up and shouted, "Hey, it's a fact that I became the star of the ER back then! Everyone thought it was a myocardial infarction and was about to administer thrombolytics, but I was the only one who shouted 'LBBB!' and saved the patient!"
Dr. Yoo Sung-hoon just shook his head instead of replying. Listening to their banter, I thought to myself: This guy really is a madman too. Especially when it came to EKGs. The chief was a total electrocardiogram freak who could miraculously diagnose all sorts of atypical and bizarre cases from an EKG. A fake genius who cheated off a forum trying to show off in front of a real genius... A wave of self-deprecation washed over me.
Once the commotion settled down, Dr. Lee Min-jae looked at me again with a serious expression. "Anyway, Hyeon-jae. Things are going to get very tiring for you from now on."
"Pardon?"
"Do you have any idea how fast rumors spread? Especially in a cramped, tight-knit place like a hospital. I bet word has already spread that a diagnostic prodigy has joined the first-years in Emergency Medicine."
The chief mixed a cup of instant coffee and handed it to me as he continued. "Soon, the interns are going to start running to you with questions. 'Dr. Han, could you take a look at this EKG?' or 'Dr. Han, this patient's lab results look weird, what do you think it is?' And why? Because they're terrified that if they ask a senior like me or Sung-hoon, they'll get chewed out like dogs for not knowing. But you're different. They thought you were just another clueless first-year barely a step above them, but suddenly you've turned into a genius. You're the perfect outlet to get the right answers without any risk of getting scolded."
"..."
"And it won't just be the interns. Your fellow first-years, like Jihun, will be the same. Before they notify the professors, seniors, or fellows about a patient's condition, they'll come to you first. 'Hyeon-jae, I think it's this, but what do you think?' They'll want that extra layer of reassurance. You're basically going to become a human UpToDate."
I couldn't say a word. I had only made two correct diagnoses, and in return, I was on the verge of being forced into the role of unofficial consultant for all the junior residents in the entire Emergency Medicine department. Oblivious to my internal panic, the chief grinned innocently and gave my shoulder a playful shove. "Brace yourself, the new star of our ER."