Chapter 87
Double chapters for this week! Enjoy guys! (03/24/2025 - 03/28/2025)
“‘I can do this,’ he says… What a line straight out of some angsty teen drama.”
Han Yoo-rim felt like smacking the back of Kang Hyuk’s head right then and there.
But watching Kang Hyuk’s technique, it didn’t seem so easy to do.
‘Is he a monster?’
Kang Hyuk had the assistant nurse hold the camera, then inserted instruments through another wound to suture the [spleen].
The [spleen], true to its nickname as a “ball of blood,” bled profusely.
It was fortunate that the wound wasn’t that large.
It was the kind of organ that bled everywhere you touched.
Strangely enough, though, wherever Kang Hyuk worked, it didn’t.
Drip.
Cold sweat ran down Kang Hyuk’s forehead.
He didn’t have his usual relaxed expression.
He wore the kind of look he always dismissed Jaewon for.
‘As expected, seeing it through a camera lens… it’s hard to look for long.’
His [abnormal color vision hypersensitivity] was helpful for surgery, but in reality, it was an illness.
(T/N: A condition where a person perceives colors more intensely or differently than normal, often making visual tasks both easier and more uncomfortable, especially under strong lights or certain color contrasts.)
One that deeply affected his daily life.
‘Good thing it’s a [Zeiss]. The military hospital used [Storz]. Do they have money to burn or what?’
(T/N: [Zeiss] is a German company renowned for high-quality optical lenses, including those used in surgical equipment. [Storz] is another prominent German manufacturer specializing in endoscopic instruments and medical devices.)
At the hospital where Kang Hyuk trained, they didn’t even have domestic models, let alone German ones.
He had to use cheap Chinese endoscopes for four years, and those memories were nearly nightmarish.
Compared to that, this situation was like a dream.
Ordinary people would hardly notice the difference between a Chinese scope and a Zeiss, but to Kang Hyuk, the difference was night and day.
‘Unbelievable.’
Meanwhile, Han Yoo-rim looked at Kang Hyuk with an expression close to astonishment.
Yoo-rim had long passed the stage of merely assisting others; he was at the stage where he should be performing surgeries solo and training juniors.
Most professors over fifty felt the same way.
When you spend over twenty years in one field, that kind of confidence just comes naturally.
But the skills Kang Hyuk was displaying now were enough to not only humble but completely discourage someone like Yoo-rim.
‘He makes it look like he’s suturing with his bare hands. This is…’
Kang Hyuk had just sutured an entire section of the [spleen] that looked like it had been deeply punctured and torn.
He used a technique to forcefully compress the area to stop the bleeding. The technique itself wasn’t extraordinary, but doing it through [laparoscopy] was almost impossible.
He was suturing with a 20cm-long forceps, relying only on the camera’s field of view.
“All right, Chief, you can take your hand off now.”
It had been held in place by Yoo-rim’s hand until just a moment ago.
The field of view was so terrible, it would be odd if things hadn’t gone wrong.
“Okay, uh, yeah. Got it.”
It had been ages since Han Yoo-rim had been so overwhelmed by someone else’s technique.
Kang Hyuk chuckled at the surprised look on Yoo-rim’s face.
“Why are you being so formal all of a sudden?”
“Oh, no, it just slipped out.”
“Anyway, you weren’t bad yourself. That was almost perfect assisting.”
“Even if you’re just saying it, it feels good. A compliment from you, of all people.”
“No, I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
He was telling the truth.
Yoo-rim, perhaps because he’d spent so many years in the OR, adapted quickly to the [laparoscopic] field of view.
Even though it was probably the first time he’d seen things from this camera angle, his assistance had been excellent.
“All right, then, I’ll move down below.”
“Okay. Looks like it’s probably the [small intestine] or [colon] swelling down there… take care of it.”
“Will do.”
Kang Hyuk, mindful of Gyeongwon, spoke as gently as he could.
He’d already raised his voice too much earlier, but he was going to do his best now.
‘It’s definitely different.’
As soon as the field of view changed to the [laparoscope], Gyeongwon adjusted the patient’s respiratory rate.
A less sensitive surgeon might not have noticed.
But Kang Hyuk could tell.
Gyeongwon had increased the breathing rate and decreased the tidal volume.
That way, the [diaphragm] wouldn’t descend as much, and the abdominal organs would be less disturbed during surgery.
“Anesthesiologist, please keep it up just like that. That was great.”
“Thank you, Professor Baek.”
“No, really, well done.”
After praising him, Kang Hyuk turned the camera toward the [adrenal gland].
If Jaewon had heard this, he would have jumped up in frustration. He’d done so much more than Gyeongwon and had never once gotten this kind of compliment.
Luckily, Jaewon wasn’t here, so there were no hurt feelings—and no distractions to the surgery.
‘Now, the [adrenal gland].’
Kang Hyuk set down the instrument for a moment and stared at the monitor.
He could see the [adrenal gland], half crushed.
It was much smaller than the [spleen], but its danger was incomparably greater.
‘This is the real thing. Now what?’
For once, Kang Hyuk didn’t immediately touch the [adrenal gland].
He looked like a bomb technician facing a live explosive.
And his feelings weren’t much different.
Very few hormones in the body had as dramatic an effect as [steroids].
Bomb was the right word.
‘I have to pinpoint the exact damaged area.’
Kang Hyuk took the camera from the assistant nurse.
The nurse, who’d been holding it until now, finally looked relieved and sighed.
“Hmm.”
Kang Hyuk used the camera to look around inside the abdominal cavity and grimaced.
The [adrenal gland] was, as always, located above the [kidney] and at the back of the abdomen.
But right now, the [adrenal gland] had been pushed even further back by what looked like some foreign object, making it even harder to observe with the [laparoscope].
“Do we have a 30-degree lens?”
Finally, Kang Hyuk removed the camera and turned around.
The main nurse tilted her head in confusion.
She had no idea what he meant by “30 degrees.”
It wasn’t just her—Han Yoo-rim was just as lost.
“What do you mean? What’s 30 degrees?”
Yoo-rim asked on behalf of the other nurses.
The injury to the lower abdomen was serious, but compared to above, it was really nothing.
Besides, thanks to Kang Hyuk controlling the bleeding from the skin, things were much easier now.
They actually had a bit of breathing room.
“A lens with a 30-degree angle. There should be one. It’s just not used much.”
“A lens angle? Ah… Oh! I remember. I was the one who approved buying that. I got annoyed when they asked me to get both 30-degree and 60-degree lenses for no reason.”
Being the chief of a department wasn’t just for show.
He was responsible for spending within a limited budget.
People think those with budget control have a lot of power in companies, but in hospitals, it’s just a hassle—especially for medical staff.
That’s why Yoo-rim still vaguely remembered what happened years ago.
“So, did you buy it or not?”
“Hey, why are you getting mad? I think I did.”
“You think?”
“No, I did. Look at this guy—he’s going to hit me, haha.”
Yoo-rim took a step back, eyeing Kang Hyuk’s muscular, tattooed forearms visible beneath the surgical gown.
The word “thug” fit perfectly.
“If you bought it, it should be somewhere. Check the instrument log. Please get it out.”
At Kang Hyuk’s request, the main nurse looked to the assistant nurse.
Being new, she had neither the authority nor the nerve to hesitate or refuse.
The nurse hierarchy was often stricter than among doctors.
So, the new nurse hurried outside.
“She’ll be back soon,” the main nurse said, watching her go.
He truly believed it—if it wasn’t there, she’d find a way to get one.
“Good,” Kang Hyuk said, thinking back to the time the new nurse spent bringing the endoscopy system earlier.
‘About 10 minutes.’
It wasn’t a long time.
But to Kang Hyuk, there was no time to waste.
He had to do something—Jaewon still wasn’t ready to perform trauma surgery alone from start to finish.
He had to finish and get there to help.
‘If I don’t…’
First, the patient would die.
And the doctor who operated—Jaewon—would be scarred by it.
No matter the circumstances, losing a patient wounds a doctor psychologically.
‘Slave’s mentality isn’t all that tough yet.’
He always acted dismissive, but Kang Hyuk thought quite highly of Jaewon.
Especially when it came to learning, Jaewon was exceptional.
He complained, but he always kept up.
If that kid quit because of a broken spirit, what then?
With a sense of urgency, Kang Hyuk clamped the vein from the [adrenal gland].
‘Since the artery is still feeding blood in, clamping the vein won’t kill the patient immediately.’
Also, blocking the vein would prevent the steroid “bomb” in the [adrenal gland] from spreading through the whole body.
The hormone can’t spread against arterial pressure.
‘Huh?’
But as soon as he clamped the vein, he sensed something had changed.
He checked and saw the patient’s blood pressure had risen by about 10.
Turning his head, he saw Gyeongwon grinning.
He had preemptively increased the pressure in the artery feeding the [adrenal gland] in case anything happened.
With this, there was no chance of the [adrenal gland]’s steroids spreading through the body.
“Oh…”
Kang Hyuk looked at Gyeongwon in admiration once again, then began carefully excising the visible area.
Tap, tap.
He didn’t just use a scalpel.
He used a [laparoscopic cautery knife].
If it’s available, why not use the best tools?
Tap-tap-tap.
Even with the same cautery knife, skill makes a difference.
Before long, the crushed section at the front of the [adrenal gland] was almost completely excised.
And just then, Kang Hyuk realized he’d made a major mistake.
“Damn it.”
A tiny vein was branching off behind where he couldn’t see.
It was an extremely rare variant, invisible in normal anatomy.
“Heart rate 120!”
At the same time, Gyeongwon shouted, nearly screaming, and kept calling out.
“No, 140! 160!”
