Chapter 91

“What the—, all of a sudden!”

Professor Kim In-soo from orthopedics shouted, visibly flustered.

The unfortunate anesthesiologist who had been dragged in and thrown into emergency surgery also looked just as bewildered.

“I-I don’t know…! Is the surgical site okay, at least?”

“We’re already halfway done on the right side! The bleeding stopped a while ago!”

“W-well, I sent out the announcement… Let’s wait for the [cardiopulmonary resuscitation team]…”

“Isn’t the [emergency room] right next door? Why aren’t they here yet!”

Professor Kim shouted, forgetting that the announcement had gone out only three seconds earlier.

The orthopedic resident and intern assisting him wore almost identical expressions.

Situations like this were rare in orthopedics.

“Hey, shouldn’t we at least start [chest compressions]?”

Of course, no one was more flustered than Professor Kim.

He’d been doing orthopedic surgery the longest in the department.

But having to do [cardiopulmonary resuscitation] was almost unheard of.

The last time he’d done [cardiopulmonary resuscitation] felt like it was over ten years ago.

“Uh… is that so?”

Naturally, being a resident didn’t mean you were used to [cardiopulmonary resuscitation].

Orthopedics wasn’t the kind of department where you learned that.

It’d be even stranger if this resident suddenly started commanding [cardiopulmonary resuscitation] with confidence.

“‘Is that so?’ What do you mean, ‘is that so?’ Q-quick, do something, anything!”

“What if something goes wrong while I’m trying…”

Professor Kim was known for being quite decent as a person.

Among professors from other departments, he’d be considered a little better than average.

But in orthopedics, where all sorts of abuse and nonsense still ran rampant, he was a true man of character.

Because of this, the resident could voice his opinions relatively freely.

Professor Kim also accepted those opinions without much resistance.

“Fair enough… It’d be a disaster if you messed up.”

“You always tell us, professor. Ask if you don’t know—before you mess something up.”

“Yeah, but still, how can a doctor not know how to do [cardiopulmonary resuscitation]?”

“Uh…”

“Forget it. Hurry up, call a real doctor!”

Here, a ‘real doctor’ almost certainly meant an internist.

Normally, internal medicine was a department that got little respect.

Because it didn’t make money.

But in emergencies, there was no department you could rely on more than internal medicine.

Clatter.

At that moment, the operating room door opened.

Two thoughts crossed everyone’s mind.

One was, ‘We’re saved.’

The other, ‘That was fast.’

‘It’s only been about twenty seconds since the announcement…?’

Especially the anesthesiologist, who remained much calmer than the others directly involved in surgery, clearly found this odd.

It was far too soon after the announcement for anyone to have arrived.

No matter how well-organized the Hanguk University Hospital [cardiopulmonary resuscitation team] was, this was impossible.

Even if they started running the moment they heard the call, it’d still take time.

And the [cardiopulmonary resuscitation team] never came empty-handed.

At the very least, they’d bring a [medicine box] and a [defibrillator].

“Uh… Did you come alone?”

But the person was alone.

And empty-handed.

“Isn’t that… Professor Baek?”

The resident somehow recognized him.

Even though he was in scrubs and a mask.

“Yeah, enough with the greetings. How’s the patient?”

Baek Kang-hyuk brushed off the greetings as a nuisance and strode up to the patient.

Professor Kim felt dubious, but made no move to stop him.

He knew anyone would be more capable than himself in this situation.

He couldn’t even answer a simple question about the patient’s current status.

So he stepped aside and pointed to the anesthesiologist.

Baek Kang-hyuk immediately caught on and turned his gaze to the anesthesiologist.

“How’s the patient?”

He repeated the question.

The anesthesiologist, well aware that the man in front of him was the infamous Baek Kang-hyuk—anesthesiology’s worst villain—felt no hostility.

The patient looked way too critical, and he had no clue what to do.

So he just answered exactly as asked.

“Y-yes! The respiratory rate is set to 11 per minute on the anesthesia machine… but [gas exchange] isn’t happening! The [saturation] keeps dropping! It’s at 60 now!”

Normal [oxygen saturation] should be at least 95.

And the patient was getting extra oxygen during surgery.

So 100 would be normal.

But 60?

That was dangerously low.

“Heart rate?”

But Baek Kang-hyuk moved on to the next question with utter calm, as if he’d expected this.

He also smoothly adjusted the anesthesia machine’s [oxygen supply].

“Uh… 120! It’s been climbing!”

“Blood pressure holding steady?”

“Yes… It’s a little high!”

“Okay. So it’s just diabetes, no other underlying conditions?”

When [oxygen saturation] drops, the heart normally beats faster and harder.

It’s trying to deliver as much oxygen as possible.

And the fact that it’s working means the heart is still strong.

A heart that tough, even with diabetes, was pure luck.

“For now, give full oxygen.”

Having summed things up, Baek Kang-hyuk started issuing orders.

“Full… Yes. Switching to 100% oxygen.”

“Start [heparin] loading.”

(T/N: [Heparin] is a medication that prevents blood clotting.)

“H-heparin…?”

“Yeah. Quick! Don’t ask questions—just do it! If you’re not sure—”

“Uh… okay.”

No wonder people from the anesthesiologists department call Baek Kang-hyuk a villain.

Facing him in person, the pressure was no joke.

The anesthesiologist could only do as Baek Kang-hyuk ordered.

Otherwise, he felt like he’d die. The patient, too.

“Uh… what’s even going on here?”

Even after hearing all the prescriptions, Professor Kim and the rest of the medical staff had no idea what was happening.

So Professor Kim In-soo took it upon himself to ask Baek Kang-hyuk.

Baek Kang-hyuk looked at him as if he were hopeless.

“You’re not seriously asking because you don’t know, right? It’s for educational purposes, isn’t it?”

Professor Kim couldn’t shake his head at that.

If he did, he’d really look like a clueless professor.

“Of course not. The kids don’t know, so…”

“I really hope so. Seriously.”

Baek Kang-hyuk went on, driving the nail in further, as he pointed at the patient’s right shin, which Professor Kim had just been operating on.

“See here? The blood vessels are destroyed, not just the bone.”

“Yes, yes.”

The resident nodded repeatedly.

Especially at the mention of the blood vessels being wrecked, he seemed almost excited.

He was reminded of the ordeal earlier with that very blood vessel.

‘No wonder the professor was even considering [amputation].’

The bone was shattered.

The blood vessels were wrecked.

There was diabetes.

Honestly, the resident thought amputation was the answer.

If you end up cutting later due to infection, you’d have to cut even higher up.

If you missed the timing, it could become life-threatening.

“Why are your eyes darting around like that?”

Baek Kang-hyuk asked the resident, who was lost in thought.

Startled, he frantically shook his head.

“No, sir! I was focused!”

“Then do you have [strabismus]? Go see ophthalmology.”

[T/N: Strabismus means misalignment of the eyes, where the eyes do not look in the same direction.]

“Uh, yes…”

He didn’t have strabismus, but he still nodded, feeling it’d be worse to deny it here.

Baek Kang-hyuk continued, addressing the resident and the rest of the staff.

“Anyway, what possibilities arise when there’s both a fracture and this kind of vascular injury?”

It was a very important question.

Important enough to be in any orthopedics textbook.

“An [air embolism]? No, that’s not possible right now.”

[T/N: Air embolism is when air bubbles enter the bloodstream and block blood vessels.]

So Professor Kim In-soo stepped up.

With all his years in orthopedics, he was implying that sort of thing didn’t happen here.

But Baek Kang-hyuk quietly shook his head.

“Not air.”

“Not air…? Ah!”

“[Fat]. There’s oil inside bones. It leaks out and travels through the veins… passes through the right atrium, right ventricle, then blocks the pulmonary artery.”

Baek Kang-hyuk explained it as if he’d seen it firsthand on imaging.

It sounded unbelievable.

But it was hard not to believe, either.

“Ah… [saturation] is rising.”

Following Baek Kang-hyuk’s prescription, the patient’s condition was improving.

Before they knew it, oxygen saturation had climbed above 90, and heart rate dropped below 90.

Naturally, blood pressure was stable, too.

“We’re past the worst of it. But—”

Even after stabilizing the patient’s vitals, Baek Kang-hyuk didn’t look relieved.

The reason became clear as Professor Kim In-soo demonstrated.

“The blood just keeps leaking…”

He shook off gloves that were instantly soaked.

It was because of the [heparin].

A powerful anticoagulant, [heparin].

It had successfully dissolved the clot in the pulmonary artery—but it also affected the rest of the body.

Now, even minor wounds that had stopped bleeding before, without needing to be cauterized or sutured, started leaking again.

“Damn it.”

A curse slipped from Professor Kim’s mouth.

The resident hurried to wipe away the blood with gauze, but it backfired.

A light rubbing with gauze, which normally wouldn’t cause any trouble, only made the bleeding worse now.

“Dab it, don’t rub!”

So, Professor Kim raised his voice, unlike his usual demeanor.

“Y-yes!”

“Cauterize!”

“Yes!”

“No, you’re making it worse, idiot!”

“S-sorry.”

“Ugh.”

Baek Kang-hyuk watched them for a moment, then sighed.

Snap.

He stripped off his gloves and held his hand out to the nurse.

“W-what…”

The flustered nurse asked.

She was a nurse who sometimes came to help the Severe Trauma Center in emergency surgery at Jang-mi’s request.

She knew Baek Kang-hyuk by face, though not well.

“At this rate, we’ll be here all day just finishing the left side. I’ll do the other side myself.”

“Huh? But this is an orthopedic surgery…”

“I can do everything. Just glove me up.”