Chapter 112

“Um……. For this kind of patient, someone needs to hold them. Should I call the intern?”

The radiologic technologist asked after moving the patient onto the CT table with Baek Kang-hyuk.

He looked flustered.

Even with over ten years of experience, it was his first time moving a patient together with a professor.

“Intern? Do you think we have time to call an intern? We just need to scan right now!”

“Th-then the patient might fall.”

It meant that you couldn’t predict the movements of unconscious patients.

Of course, more often than not, they lay there unable to move, as if dead.

But sometimes, even on a CT table without restraints or supports, patients could thrash about and fall.

Younger people tended to seriously underestimate the risks of falls.

But in truth, a fall could be fatal for a patient.

So whenever scanning an unconscious patient, medical staff had to hold them in place.

“Should I still call the intern…?”

Of course, even though he said medical staff, it pretty much always meant just the intern.

An intern is someone who has graduated from medical school and holds a medical license, legally a full doctor.

They could even open their own clinic and see patients right away.

But at a university hospital, interns were treated as nothing more than slaves.

So, if there was a job no one else wanted to do, it always fell to the intern.

“Should I call one?”

Things like [enemas], inserting urinary catheters, and holding patients in the CT or MRI room all fell into that category.

( T/N: ‘a procedure involving the injection of fluid into the rectum for cleansing or medical treatment’ )

Especially CT—besides being dirty, noisy, and difficult, it exposed you to a huge amount of radiation, so interns were always forced into the role.

But Kang-hyuk was not someone who even acknowledged such a concept.

“No, are you even listening to me? I told you we don’t have time! Let’s just scan.”

“We’re not holding the patient?”

“What are you talking about? I’ll hold them myself.”

“Uh……. The professor will, personally?”

The tech looked like he couldn’t understand.

Frankly, just having Baek Kang-hyuk in the CT room was bizarre.

Professors gave orders—they weren’t the ones who carried them out.

No law said so, but tradition had.

“Yeah, that’s right. Where’s the lead apron?”

“Uh……. Here, here it is.”

But Kang-hyuk didn’t care for traditions or conventions.

He would do anything if it meant saving a patient in his care.

Nothing else mattered.

“It’s heavy, wearing it after so long.”

Kang-hyuk muttered as he put on the navy blue lead apron.

It was like chain mail, and when worn, it protected the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, internal organs, and spine from radiation.

“You should wear this, too.”

The tech handed him a neck shield.

The thyroid was one of the most vulnerable organs to radiation.

When the nuclear power plant in Fukushima collapsed in Japan, the International Head and Neck Cancer Society expressed deep concern.

They expected the thyroid cancer rate in Japan to significantly rise as a result.

It hadn’t yet shown up in the numbers, but everyone was certain it would.

“Thank you.”

Kang-hyuk knew this very well, so he put on the neck guard without protest.

“Let’s scan now.”

His arms, legs, and head would still be exposed to radiation, but this was the best the CT room could do.

The tech looked at Kang-hyuk apologetically and nodded.

“Okay, we’ll start right away.”

“Yes, yes.”

“You’ll hear my voice through the speaker on the ceiling. Please just follow my instructions.”

“Understood.”

The tech left Kang-hyuk and the patient in the CT room, telling Kang-hyuk to hold the patient tight, and started the machine.

Whirrr.

With a dull hum, the machine started.

The patient’s head slowly slid into the round CT scanner and then came back out.

That was the end of the scan.

CT was much faster than MRI.

And since they didn’t use contrast, it was even quicker.

“All done.”

“Okay. Let’s go straight to the MRI room. Can you help me?”

This wasn’t just anyone asking—it was a professor.

The head of the Severe Trauma Center, right next to the ER.

Even though the “center head” part was really just a title, everyone knew.

But either way, he couldn’t refuse.

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.”

Kang-hyuk nodded and immediately moved the patient to the transfer bed.

“Let’s go right away.”

“Yes.”

Then they headed toward the MRI room.

In emergency departments, the CT and MRI rooms were usually right next to each other.

This, too, was funded as part of the government’s initiative to boost Severe Trauma Centers.

It was much faster than having to go all the way to the basement for scans, and many patients had been saved as a result.

But it had nothing to do with the actual “activation” of the Severe Trauma Center.

‘Damn bastards.’

Kang-hyuk cursed silently as he stopped in front of the MRI room.

Thanks to Jaewon blocking the other patients as instructed, Kang-hyuk was able to enter right away.

“You didn’t block anyone in too urgent a condition, right?”

“No, it was just a shoulder MRI. The attending confirmed it was okay to be a bit late.”

“Ah, good.”

A shoulder MRI meant nobody was dying.

So, relieved, he let out a sigh—when suddenly the portable monitor connected to the patient alarmed.

Beep.

The blood pressure and heart rate alarms were already muted.

If the monitor beeped, it meant the patient was at the point of needing CPR.

Both Kang-hyuk and Jaewon spun around.

“Dammit.”

They both swore at the same time.

The patient’s oxygen saturation was dropping.

But the respiratory rate wasn’t increasing at all.

It was dropping instead.

“Brainstem herniation is progressing!”

Kang-hyuk groaned in frustration as the situation continued to deteriorate, even after drilling into the skull and draining cerebrospinal fluid.

The oxygen saturation was dropping too fast to be just from a low respiratory rate.

‘Is the tongue blocking the airway…….’

Keeping the airway open was surprisingly complex.

Many muscles had to support it in concert.

Losing that meant the brain was shutting down.

‘Is it too late.’

Kang-hyuk unconsciously recalled what Jaewon had said.

Everything they were doing might all be for nothing.

No, objectively, that was probably the case.

They had started treatment late to begin with.

‘No, no. The patient is still alive.’

The patient hadn’t given up on their own life yet.

So how could a doctor, entrusted with their fate, give up?

That was unacceptable.

“Knife!”

Kang-hyuk frantically looked for a knife.

Trying to intubate someone with a head injury and raised intracranial pressure was as good as murder.

“There isn’t one! There’s nothing here!”

Where would you find a scalpel in an MRI room?

At best, there’d be a box cutter.

But even in an emergency, you couldn’t use that to cut.

“Then a syringe!”

“A syringe?”

“Don’t ask, just hand one over!”

“Ah……. Yes!”

The MRI tech, panicking at Kang-hyuk’s shout, quickly handed over a bundle of syringes.

Meanwhile, Jaewon sprinted outside to get a scalpel and other instruments needed for an airway.

He figured it would be faster than sending someone or making an announcement.

‘If it’s Professor Baek Kang-hyuk, he’ll manage somehow.’

He had faith that Baek Kang-hyuk could handle it on his own, at least for a while.

And Kang-hyuk did not betray that faith.

Poke.

He quickly jabbed a needle into the patient’s neck.

It wasn’t random—he aimed right below the vocal cords.

Whoosh.

He could hear air passing through.

“Ambu bag. You have one, right?”

“Uh……. There is one.”

“Hurry up and give it to me!”

“Yes!”

The tech rummaged for the Ambu bag.

Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk stuck in three more needles.

At first, there was only one hole to breathe through.

But now there were four.

And all with the thickest needles used for blood donation.

“Give it here!”

Kang-hyuk snatched the Ambu bag and pumped air into the patient.

“Oxygen! Hook up the oxygen, too!”

He kept giving the tech rapid instructions.

Luckily, the tech had experience and wasn’t thrown into a panic by the urgency.

“Good. Well done!”

Kang-hyuk nodded at the 100% oxygen at 10L hooked to the Ambu bag.

Then he checked the patient’s monitor.

The oxygen saturation, which had been plummeting, was rising again.

“Ah, phew…….”

The tech slumped down in relief.

But Kang-hyuk, the one who’d pulled off this miraculous save, didn’t look happy.

‘With just needles, you can last three minutes at most……. Slave has to get here by then.’

Kang-hyuk squeezed the Ambu bag anxiously.

Thump thump thump.

Luckily, Jaewon was just as aware of the gravity of the situation.

He’d experienced enough emergencies in the Severe Trauma Center.

He couldn’t match Kang-hyuk’s skill, but his mindset was the same.

“I got it!”

“Okay, good. Disinfect first!”

“Yes!”

Jaewon wiped the neck with alcohol instead of Betadine.

Betadine was stronger, but since it worked as it dried, it wasn’t good when seconds counted.

Kang-hyuk must have agreed with Jaewon’s choice because he didn’t say anything.

“Make the cut. You can do it, right?”

Kang-hyuk breathed air into the needle hole above as he watched Jaewon.

The old Jaewon would have asked, ‘Me?’

But now, he grabbed the scalpel without a word.

“I’ll do it right now.”

“Good. Make it big, we might be in for the long haul.”

“Yes.”

Jaewon nodded and made an incision with the scalpel.

Blood flowed out, but he didn’t mind.

Thanks to Kang-hyuk, the anatomy here was burned into his memory.

If he could just get a view, he could do the procedure.

“Okay, I’ll put in the tube.”

“Good. You’re getting good at this now.”

“Thank…… you.”

Jaewon looked grateful—it was the first time he’d been praised for surgery.

But that didn’t last long.

“Now, connect the Ambu bag there.”

“Yes.”

“You keep pumping it during the MRI.”

“What? Intern……. We’re not calling one?”

Jaewon would’ve done it without a word for CT.

But MRI was different.

It took at least twenty minutes and was ear-splittingly loud.

“We don’t have time for an intern. Tech, let’s start. We’re already delayed.”

“Yes!”

“No, but an intern—!”

“We’re starting right now.”

(T/N: Kang-hyuk is spitting praises left and right! Wow!)