Chapter 13

Episode 13 Special Tutoring (1)

Just then, a tremendous sound of footsteps from the Resusc area Started coming This way.

“Move! Move! Everyone move!”

I Turned my head Towards the sound. It was the Chief.

“What the hell is going on! What, what is it! Why did the alarm suddenly go off in Area B! Did they arrest?!”

4th Year Lee Minjae brushed past us and approached the patient. After checking the patient's state for a moment, the Chief checked the settings on the BiPAP machine.

“Hm….”

The Chief stroked his jaw and contemplated for a moment, then pressed the buttons on the machine a few times to slightly adjust the settings.

“Raise the RR to 16, and let's give a little more FiO2 at 30%. This should be much more stable.”

The Chief glanced at the ABGA results recorded on the EMR and nodded his head.

“Good. Initial treatment was good.”

With a look of satisfaction, the Chief headed back to the Resusc room to clean up after the Trauma patient.

‘…I saved him.’

I pretended to head toward the Supply Room, moved into a corner, and Quietly opened the system window. A clear pop-up window appeared Before my eyes.

[You have successfully treated an acute respiratory failure patient!]

[A reward of 300 LP has been awarded.]

My eyes went wide.

…Oh, I got as much as 300.

The Night was coming to an end.

I was shoved into a corner of the Station in a completely exhausted state. The seniors who had been fighting a fierce battle in the Resusc room also walked out one by one with tired faces. The trauma patient eventually survived and went up to the Operating Room.

“Hyunjae, aren't you going home?”

Before I knew it, Kim Jihun approached and looked down at me with hollow eyes. From the look of it, he definitely just got chewed out like a dog.

“You go first. I just have a few more chartings to finish up.”

“Hey, you're gonna die at that rate. Let's just do a rough job and go. Don't you have to prepare for the Conference the day after tomorrow, too?”

“I know. I'll leave soon.”

I waved my hand and sent Kim Jihun away first.

Conference, my ass. I just feel like diving straight into my bed. My fingers tapping the keyboard had absolutely no strength left in them. Finally, after finishing the last patient's chart, I pressed the logout button.

“Teacher, I will be leaving first.”

I bowed politely to the senior who was guarding the Station. This is what MZ is all about.

“Yeah, get going quickly. You worked hard today.”

Yes, yes, I understand.

I swallowed my soulless reply inside and turned around. Should I catch a taxi? No, let's just take the bus. A taxi is a luxury in this early morning.

‘…But does this open outside the hospital too?’

The thought suddenly crossed my mind. Is it like Wi-Fi? Until now, not once during my commute had I ever thought about opening the Gallery outside the hospital.

‘Gallery.’

Ping—

The familiar blue interface popped up. It worked.

With a sigh of relief, I scanned the main screen of the Gallery. And I couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle.

Title: But doesn't Korean Slave 1<<< this bastard's procedural skills seem totally lacking?

Author: Mes of the God (Male)

Hearing him stitch up that forehead earlier was a spectacle. At that level, it's to the point where I feel bad for the patient.

I was momentarily lost for words at the truth hitting me right where it hurt. It felt like these bastards were monitoring my every move.

Letting out a hollow laugh, I started writing a post.

Title: Hey gallers, I'm leaving work, yeah

Author: Korean Slave 1 (Male)

Don't look for me.

A moment after hitting the register button, the comment notifications exploded like crazy.

ㅇㅇ (210.94): Hey!!!!!!! Don't go, fuck!!!!!!!!

Bone Nerd 88 (Male): You're leaving work already? Not a single guy with a broken bone came today! I haven't seen a single one yet!

Pediatric Ghost: You bastard!!! You should at least see one pediatric emergency croup patient before you go!!!!

Latte is Mine: Tsk tsk, these kids are completely soft nowadays. Back in our day, a 48-hour continuous shift was standard. This is why kids these days have no grit.

Hippocrates' Descendant: O living one, your rest is a well-deserved right, but it is deeply regrettable that our entertainment must come to an end.

What a bunch of bullshit. I can't just drop dead just so you guys can have fun.

As I scrolled down, my eyes caught on a certain comment.

ㅇㅇ (118.235): By the way, aren't you going to study? Judging by your level, it looks like you need to hit the books hard.

It was a fact. A 100% pure fact that struck a chord.

I paused.

…Is that so? Come to think of it, it was true.

‘Hands belong to the realm of talent. Those who can't make it, just can't.’

One comment brushed past my mind. If I don't have talent, I should at least put in the effort. I can't just keep relying on this crazy Gallery forever.

After a brief moment of contemplation, I left a reply.

↳ Korean Slave 1: I should study, yeah.

As soon as my reply was posted, the atmosphere of the Gallery changed in an instant.

↳ Respiratory Ghost: Oh? You're going to study? Then start by reading my paper list. I've organized a full course from the latest COPD guidelines to ARDS treatments.

↳ Hematoma is Hell: Hemato-oncology is fucking hard. You can never conquer it alone. I'll give you Special Tutoring.

↳ Bone Nerd 88 (Male): If you ever want to see bones, just say the word!

These crazy workaholic bastards.

I let out a hollow laugh and Closed the window of the Gallery.

‘Go buy some pork rind and practice stitching at home every day.’

A comment left by a ghost came to mind.

And so, with a plastic bag in each hand packed generously with pork rind for suturing, I arrived at my Officetel. Sanitizing wipes, sutures, surgical instruments, and the bright pink pork rind.

Right. Let's do this.

A Hellscape was unfolding on the kitchen counter of my Officetel. A desk lamp served as the surgical light, and underneath it lay the pork rind. A wave of reality check came rushing in.

'You can borrow a brain, but you can't borrow hands.'

Even if knowledge can be filled by cheating, the sensation in my fingertips is my own responsibility.

‘…I should record this and upload it.’

There was no point in struggling alone. I needed feedback. This crazy Gallery writes posts and even takes pictures just with my thoughts. If so, there's no way video recording wouldn't work either.

‘Start recording my vision for 1 minute from now.’

A small REC icon appeared in one corner of my vision. Okay.

I picked up the needle holder and the forceps.

Whew. One deep breath.

The first needle went into the pork rind.

Thud.

Oh, fuck. It went in too deep. The angle was a mess too.

I tried to pull the needle out, but it wouldn't even come out easily. When I pulled the rind with the forceps, the rind tore hideously. Forget a knot, I had only made a nasty mess of the wound.

‘End recording.’

I opened the Gallery and uploaded a new post, attaching the 1-minute disaster video that was just recorded.

Title: [Video] Need some feedback on pork rind suturing.

Author: Korean Slave 1 (Male)

The first comment was, as expected, that bastard.

Mes of the God (Male): So this is what it feels like for one's eyes to rot.

Mes of the God (Male): If you're going to do it like that, quit right now. What you're doing right now isn't suturing, it's butchery. It's to the point where I feel bad for that pig.

Operating Room Ghost 3 (Male): Hey!!!! I turned the video off as soon as I saw it!!!! The needle has to go in at 90 degrees, you dumbass! If you gouge it at 45 degrees, fuck, is this a suture??

Operating Room Wall Clock: Look at the state of those forceps. If you crush it with that much force, it'll all necrose later. Even pork rind has human rights, you son of a bitch.

Criticism and curses pouring in from all sides.

Right. 90 degrees. 90 degrees, it is.

I started recording once again. This time, I focused all my attention solely on the angle. Perpendicular. I drove the needle in at a perfect right angle.

Oh, it worked. This time, it went in quite smoothly.

With a smile, I pulled the needle out through the other side and drew the thread. Now I just needed to tie it. I attempted a surgeon's knot just as I had learned.

Loop once, loop twice.

Huh? My fingers are getting tangled. The thread is knotting up.

‘End recording.’

I filmed another 1-minute video and attached it as a reply.

↳ Korean Slave 1: [Video] Got the angle right. The knot is shit. What's next.

↳ Plastic Surgery Alum: Argh, look at the state of those fingers. Do you even know an instrument tie? How long are you going to keep fiddling with your hands?

↳ Mes of the God (Male): Is it an intelligence issue? How did you graduate with hands like that? If you were in front of my eyes, I would have cut off your fingers with a scalpel. That would actually be the better path for the patient.

Muttering curses under my breath, I untangled the knotted thread.

Instrument tie. Knotting with an instrument. Right, tying with a tool.

Recording again.

Holding the end of the thread with the needle holder, spinning it around the forceps.

Ping—

Ah, fuck. I lost the thread.

I barely resisted the urge to slam my head against the desk. Just then, even the Internal Medicine guys started chiming in.

Latte is Mine: Oh, it's meaningless. Even if you stitch like that all night, it'll all burst if it gets infected. Hell Slave 1. If that pig were a diabetic patient, what would you use for the wound dressing? Can you disinfect with Betadine? Or not? Answer that first.

Respiratory Ghost: Ah, fuck, this is so boring. I feel like I'm aging 2 years. You'd be better off making a hole in that pork rind to create a pneumothorax and then practicing inserting a chest tube. That would be way more fun.

Operating Room Ghost 3 (Male): You Internal Medicine boomers, shut your mouths and just watch. Can't you see we are witnessing the birth of a sacred surgeon right now?

Hematoma is Hell: Birth, my ass. It's on the verge of a miscarriage.

I tried my best to ignore their bullshit and focused on the pork rind again.

Record.

Upload.

Get chewed out.

And then record again.

Upload.

Get cursed out.

Crooked and uneven. The spacing was a mess, and the shapes of the knots were all different.

Sweat trickled down my jaw and splattered onto the table. However, strangely enough, the more I repeated this crazy process, the sensation in my fingertips gradually became clearer.

The grip strength holding the needle holder, the delicacy of grasping tissue with the forceps, the tension of pulling the thread. My body was beginning to remember, rather than my brain. Automatically.

By the time I uploaded the eleventh video, the atmosphere in the comments section began to shift subtly.

↳ Plastic Surgery Alum: Oh? You've kind of caught on to the feel of the tie. Though it's still at the level of playing house.

↳ Operating Room Wall Clock: You've got persistence. Seeing how your mental didn't burst even after taking this much roasting. Emergency Medicine does need tough bastards, yeah.

And it was finally after I uploaded the fifteenth video.

My hand in the video was no longer trembling. It created five clean, consecutive knots at a fairly uniform interval.

Mes of the God (Male): You went from completely unviewable garbage to about the level of chicken bones. Do it 1,000 more times. Then maybe you can manage a decent imitation of a human?

It was the ultimate compliment.

Seeing that comment, I inadvertently let out a smirk.

I closed the Gallery window. A terrible fatigue washed over my entire body. I wanted to just collapse right onto the table and fall asleep.

Even so, I pulled it off.

Time for a drink.