Chapter 91, Section 4: A Satisfying Blow (1)

At the university hospital, various announcements are made.

Among them, there is something called a code, and the meaning changes depending on the word that follows the code.

Code Blue indicates a cardiac arrest patient.

Code Red indicates a fire.

Code Black indicates a disaster such as an earthquake, etc.

Among these, the most frequently encountered code is undoubtedly the Code Blue that was just announced.

Haa...

Haa...

Arriving at the blood draw room, I was breathing heavily.

A nurse was performing chest compressions on a 50-year-old woman who had fainted and lost consciousness.

Patients waiting for blood draws were watching the CPR with tense faces.

The atmosphere in the blood draw room was as precarious and tense as walking on thin ice.

"Doctor, let's switch places. We might need to intubate, so could you bring the necessary tools?"

"Ah, yes."

Switching places with the nurse, I placed my interlocked palms on the patient's sternum and pressed firmly.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

My shoulders and arms, forming a triangular shape, pressed down on the patient's chest, causing her entire body to jolt.

Thirty chest compressions.

Two rescue breaths after securing the airway.

'This isn't easy...'

Wrinkles formed on my forehead.

After performing one cycle of CPR and evaluating the patient's pulse and breathing, the results were not good.

It seemed more like a myocardial infarction or angina rather than a simple arrhythmia.

It could even be suspected to be coronary artery syndrome.

'No more distractions. I need to save the patient first.'

I continued the CPR, sweating profusely.

If there's a fire, you should put it out first, right?

Identifying the cause of the fire comes next.

"Believe me? You seem to have been doing this for a long time. Let's switch."

Another intern and classmate who had come to the blood draw room suggested taking over the CPR.

Having taken responsibility for five cycles alone, I readily gave up my position.

In a short time, my entire body and clothes were drenched in sweat.

My breathing became rapid, as if I had just sprinted in a relay race.

Each time I perform CPR, I realize how difficult it is to save a person.

Life and death are like two sides of a coin, always ready to flip.

Perhaps that's why.

There is no emergency procedure that restores a doctor's初心 (initial heart) like CPR.

CPR is, in a word, a cold water splash.

It sharply reminds you, 'You are a doctor, responsible for human life.'

"Doctor, I've brought the intubation set."

The nurse who had left the blood draw room returned with the intubation set, an AED (automated external defibrillator), and a stretcher cart.

The patient still hadn't regained consciousness.

- Use the tools at hand.

- Perform all possible treatments within the blood draw room.

- First, get the patient's heart beating again, then send her to the emergency room.

My tasks were clear.

Perhaps because about five minutes had passed since the Code Blue announcement.

There were about six doctors in the blood draw room, including myself, who had rushed over upon hearing the announcement.

Coincidentally, most of them were interns and classmates, with only one resident.

The resident's name was Choi Hosub.

He was the chief resident of the cardiology department.

A man with gull-like eyebrows and a taciturn nature.

The person who would evaluate my cardiology internship score.

"Jiho, you take the defibrillator. Jinho to Se-young, perform chest compressions in three-cycle rotations."

"..."

"Mingsoo, help me with the intubation."

I quickly assigned roles.

Having more people doesn't necessarily mean faster or more effective treatment.

If personnel are not properly allocated, a larger group can be less efficient than a smaller one.

Sometimes, in the chaos, important tasks can be overlooked.

But I was here, someone who had even performed high-difficulty surgeries in the past.

I was confident I wouldn't turn my friends into a disorganized mob.

'Shall we start?'

With the intubation set in hand, I positioned myself above the patient's head.

First, I tilted the patient's head back to secure the airway.

After inserting the laryngoscope into the patient's mouth, I positioned the oxygen tube for intubation.

Then, I removed the stylet and inflated the cuff to check the pressure.

Throughout the process, I demonstrated calm and swift movements.

In my previous life as an intern,

I was overwhelmed by the fear and anxiety that my actions might cause the patient to die, but not in this life.

In this life, I believed that my actions were necessary for the patient to survive.

Thus, I could perform the treatment quickly and meticulously without being swayed by emotions.

"Bag valve mask."

"Here it is."

I attached the bag valve mask to the oxygen tube that had protruded from the patient's mouth.

"Mingsoo, squeeze the oxygen bag."

While Jeong Mingsoo squeezed the oxygen bag to ventilate the patient,

I put on the stethoscope hanging around my neck and placed it on the patient's chest.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

The breath sounds from both lungs were normal.

This was evidence that the oxygen tube had been correctly inserted into the trachea, not the esophagus.

It would be more ridiculous if I, who had performed OPCAB (off-pump coronary artery bypass), failed at intubation.

"Everyone, step back!"

Jiho, who had connected the defibrillator, shouted loudly.

To avoid electric shock, everyone momentarily distanced themselves from the patient.

Thud!

The machine's sound and the resumption of CPR.

For 15 minutes, my classmates and I fought a fierce battle, each performing our assigned roles.

Fortunately, the patient barely regained consciousness.

Her eyelids, which had been trembling, lifted, revealing her pupils.

Her limbs began to move slightly.

Seeing the patient return from the brink of death, I let out a sigh of relief.

I savored the sense of accomplishment that only a doctor can feel.

Isn't the reason for a doctor's existence to pull a person from the sea of death to the land of life?

At least, that's what I believed.

After removing the intubation tube and the defibrillator electrodes, I laid the patient on the stretcher cart and headed to the emergency room.

The patient had collapsed due to acute myocardial infarction.

Proper treatment would ultimately be provided by the cardiology department.

* * *

After moving to the emergency room and undergoing various tests, the myocardial infarction patient was once again under my care.

I was pushing the stretcher cart on which the patient lay, heading to the angiography room.

The ECG showed abnormal Q waves, which only appear in people who have suffered from myocardial infarction for a long time.

Checking the EMR (Electronic Medical Record),

it was found that the patient had a history of coronary artery intervention at our hospital in the past.

Based on the notification (Notify), an order was given to perform another coronary artery intervention.

So, I was in the process of moving the patient to the angiography room.

"Thank you, doctor. I owe my life to you."

"Thank you for saving my wife."

The patient and the caregiver bowed to me.

I felt grateful for their gratitude.

It's not often that patients or caregivers express gratitude to a doctor.

Many patients and caregivers think of it as paying for a service.

Some even blame the doctor for a poor outcome, even if the doctor has done their best.

As if doctors are deceiving and exploiting patients.

Some patients and caregivers distrust doctors and categorize them as part of the evil axis.

In that sense, the words of my mentor, Professor Seo, were brutally honest.

- There is no such thing as a noble or lowly profession.

- Only people's character can be noble or lowly.

According to Professor Seo's famous saying,

the fundamental conflict between doctors and patients might actually be a matter of character.

"No, it's just my job. I'll see you in the ward after the procedure."

"Yes, doctor. Thank you."

Arriving at the angiography room,

Nam Chorong, the intern dedicated to the angiography room, was waiting for me.

"Your record is impressive today, isn't it?"

Nam Chorong whispered in my ear as she approached me.

"What do you mean?"

"Getting patients to trust you has been your specialty since medical school. You've done it again this time."

Was Nam Chorong joking to cheer me up?

But why did her joke not sound like a simple joke?

Aside from the fact that I was going to the scene of an incident in advance due to the regression,

it seemed that I was indeed getting involved in incidents and accidents more often than other doctors.

Was it a sign that I was meant to suffer more because I had received the blessing of a second life?

"Don't you do that too. I just want to live a quiet life."

"Maybe, but I doubt it will work out. Good job."

While parting ways with Nam Chorong and heading back to the ward,

I reviewed the Code Blue situation I had experienced earlier.

Considering that I was a former associate professor of thoracic surgery in my previous life, my performance wasn't particularly outstanding.

CPR and intubation are basic procedures that any doctor should be able to perform.

What I was proud of was leading my classmates.

In my past life, I lacked leadership.

I could somewhat please my superiors, but I was utterly incapable of leading my classmates or subordinates.

My classmates and subordinates didn't trust me,

didn't rely on me,

and didn't respect me.

Sadly, I was the one who caused all these situations.

But I had no intention of repeating the same mistakes in this life.

I had deeply reflected on the fact that people are both assets and weapons in my previous life.

"Where have you been, Eunmin? Didn't you answer your call phone?"

When I returned to the on-call room, Kim Seulgi was fuming.

She seemed to think I had ignored her call.

What a terrible temper.

Was it terrible in my previous life too?

"While I was on my way back from an ECG, a Code Blue was announced. I performed CPR, did some tests, and just brought the patient to the angiography room."

"Then you were the one who notified Hyunjun earlier?"

"Yes."

"You should have said so earlier. If there are no other calls, massage my shoulders."

It was shocking to realize that Kim Seulgi's call was actually for a massage, but I started massaging her shoulders anyway.

Kim Seulgi didn't know that I had three of her weaknesses in my hands.

Perhaps that's why.

Kim Seulgi, who was using me as a massage machine, just looked cute to me.

Our situation would soon be reversed.

Rattle.

The door opened, and the fourth-year resident, Choi Hosub, appeared.

"What are you doing?"

"I was massaging Seulgi senior's shoulders as she requested."

I said it bluntly.

Kim Seulgi, who had been sitting with my hands on her shoulders, hastily got up, slapping my hands away.

She must hate being noticed by a fourth-year resident.

Her reaction just made me laugh.

"Kim Seulgi."

"Yes, Chief."

"Who taught you to have interns massage your shoulders?"

Coldness emanated from Choi Hosub's voice.

A fourth-year resident is like a senior non-commissioned officer in the military.

Especially one preparing for the residency exam and writing papers, a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

Knowing this, I deliberately made Kim Seulgi look bad.

Didn't Kim Seulgi often say I was clueless?

So, I acted cluelessly as he wanted.

"That... My shoulders have been hurting lately, so I just asked for a quick favor."

"Eunmin, is that true?"

"Yes, her shoulders were so bad that she even called me. I think I need to massage them more often."

My extremely honest answer made Kim Seulgi's face pale.

My first attempt at a torture officer cosplay, surprisingly, wasn't bad at all.