Chapter 105
“Haa... how did I end up in a place like this, of all places.”
That awkward, unpleasant boundary between spring and summer.
Around late May and early June.
That unpleasant season when heat shimmers rise off the asphalt and sweat starts pooling down your spine even when you’re standing still.
I was stuck in a corner of the main hospital auditorium.
[Cardiovascular and Aortic Hospital Opening Ceremony and Vision Declaration]
The decorated banner on the stage was glittering, and the auditorium was packed with big shots in suits and white coats who’d been dragged there against their will.
The air-conditioning was on, but it wasn’t nearly enough to cool the carbon dioxide and irritation-fueled heat exhaled by hundreds of people.
‘What on earth does this have to do with me...’
I loosened my tie and grumbled to myself.
For once, I was wearing a shirt under my coat instead of blue scrubs.
But this is pretty uncomfortable.
No, really, the opening of a heart hospital is something to celebrate.
It’s a good thing.
It’ll be good for patients and for the local medical community too.
But why does some lowly second-year emergency medicine resident have to come all the way out here and play applause duty?
“What the hell does this have to do with me....”
I just got off work.
I should be going home to sleep right now.
“Related? Of course it is.”
Then I heard a familiar voice from beside me.
When I turned my head, I saw Lee Minjae, who looked like he’d put on some weight after becoming a fellow, standing there drenched in sweat.
“Gasp, you got dragged here too, doctor?”
“Yeah. The chief shoved me here, saying, ‘We need a few faces from our department too.’ It’s not like I’m some folding screen.”
Lee Minjae fanned himself, grumbling in annoyance.
I felt a sense of camaraderie.
“What do you mean, ‘related’? You mean me being here?”
“You, idiot, are basically our hospital’s human aorta.”
Lee Minjae chuckled.
“You’re basically the cardiovascular hospital’s unofficial PR ambassador—the guy who can tell aortic dissection apart at a glance. Without you, this opening ceremony just wouldn’t be complete.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“You really are milking that one good look for all it’s worth. And you weren’t even there.”
“Hey! Is that any way to talk to a future professor!”
Lee Minjae glared at me.
“Aren’t you just a first-year fellow now? ‘Future professor’ feels a little... five years too early.”
“Same difference! You’re supposed to dream big, you punk!”
While we were bickering, the announcer’s voice rang out through the hall.
“Now, Hospital Director Lee Jae-yoon is entering! Everyone, please give him a big round of applause!”
Waaaaaah
Mechanical applause filled the auditorium.
Lee Minjae and I clapped our hands together with no soul whatsoever.
Clap, clap, clap.
“But why are they keeping us here when we were about to clock out.”
I asked, moving only my lips while clapping.
I couldn’t make sense of it at all.
The ER runs 24 hours a day, and residents who are off duty need to rest before they can take the next shift.
Isn’t that a labor law violation?
“Something like...”
Lee Minjae muttered, glancing toward the hospital director.
“Cardiovascular disease is a race against time, golden time is crucial... so the emergency department, which is the first to see and assess acute cases, is important... so you guys should come and share this historic moment and be inspired by a sense of duty... no, what the hell is he talking about? Fuck if I know. I don’t know why I got dragged here either.”
Lee Minjae had also given up on trying to make sense of it.
“If you look over to the right, the cardiology section is completely packed with first-year internal medicine residents.”
Where I pointed with my chin, the freshly arrived first-year internal medicine residents were standing in a straight line with stiff, disciplined expressions.
“Hmm, so they got dragged here too. Compared to them, we’ve got it easy. At least we get to sit down.”
“Poor souls...”
Is this because our department is so small?
Anyway, we found a strange comfort in other people’s misery.
The hospital director, standing on the stage, took the microphone.
“Distinguished guests and beloved faculty and staff. Good evening.”
Beloved faculty and staff.
That word irritated my ears.
“If you love us so much, then don’t drag us here.”
Before I knew it, the truth slipped out of my mouth.
“Pff...!”
Lee Minjae, who was beside me, coughed to stifle the laughter bursting out of him.
A few people nearby looked at me with startled eyes.
“Hyeonjae, lower your voice a bit. They’ll hear you.”
Lee Minjae nudged my side.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.”
I quickly shut my mouth.
But inside, I kept unleashing fact bombs.
‘Love? Love my ass. If you love us, you’d give us time off. If you love us, you’d raise our pay. Is locking us in a dreary early-summer auditorium and making us sit through a lecture your idea of love? That’s stalking.’
…Huh.
Why am I so twisted like this?
If I were me back in my first year.
‘Since it’s the hospital director speaking, I should listen closely. Yes, yes, what excellent words.’ Would I have bowed and scraped inwardly like that?
Or not? Was I always like this even in my first year?
Right now, all that’s boiling inside me is this rebellious urge to take a swing at whoever it is, hospital director or not.
‘Is my personality turning into some kind of scalpel legend, or was I always like this.’
Maybe the social-skills-deficiency factor that had been lying dormant inside me is blooming into full flower because I’ve been hanging around those crazy ghost bastards.
“Now, this specialized hospital, equipped with state-of-the-art operating rooms and a 24-hour dedicated team, will become a fortress of the golden time, ensuring that no one in the Busan-Ulsan-Gyeongnam region ever again loses their life before reaching treatment for cardiovascular disease!”
The hospital director’s voice boomed through the auditorium over the speakers.
On the giant screen behind the podium, a shiny rendering of the new building was displayed, along with the tacky phrase Fortress of the Golden Time in gold Gothic lettering.
The VIPs in the front row applauded in admiration.
“Hey, you know...”
Lee Minjae, clapping lifelessly beside me, leaned toward me and whispered.
“Yes, doctor.”
“But isn’t this just fancy talk, and in the end they’re only slapping a grand new name onto the existing thoracic surgery and cardiology departments? A rebrand?”
I snorted at Lee Minjae’s sharp observation.
As expected of my soul partner.
“Who knows. They say they’ll run a 24-hour surgery team, though. I just wonder if they’ll pay us proper on-call compensation.”
“Hmm... I guess. Anyway, they really know how to dress things up.”
While we were grumbling like that, the hospital director took a sip of water and grabbed the microphone again.
“But our mission does not end here!”
‘I wish it would, though.’
My butt is screaming here.
Just hurry up and finish already and send me home.
“Today, I would like to officially announce our hospital’s new challenge: the construction of Chungsin University Medical Center’s Geoje branch!”
“A branch, all of a sudden?”
Lee Minjae’s eyes went round.
Geoje Island.
An island you’d still have to take the Geoga Bridge to get to by car from here.
Of course there’s a bridge now, so it’s practically mainland, but from where I’m based, it’s still a different area.
Besides, the Geoga Bridge toll isn’t cheap either.
“Seems like the foundation’s been making a lot of money lately. They’re building a branch?”
“How much money could a private university in Busan possibly have? Guess they got some outside investment or something.”
“Hmm...”
Considering our hospital’s raise rate, it’d be hard to lay even one brick.
Did they win the lottery or something?
“Wow, people from Tongyeong or Geoje are in luck then. Dr. Kim Minuk would’ve been fine if he’d just held out a few more years. No need to go local after all.”
I thought of Kim Minuk, who left last year saying he was heading back to his hometown, Tongyeong.
If he’d stuck it out here as a fellow, he might’ve been able to go down there as a professor at the branch.
“Minuk? Nah, he’d probably be better off at a local ER. They pay a lot better there.”
“Really? I haven’t seen Dr. Kim Minuk much.”
“He’s the type who wants to live long and keep a low profile; he isn’t cut out for university hospitals.”
We endured the boring speech by using other people’s life plans as our side dish.
“But is that being built in some new city or what?”
“I think so. I heard they’re developing that area these days.”
“Oh, not bad. If you got in on the ground floor, it’d be good for settling in later.”
Lee Minjae’s eyes sparkled.
I could see the ambition of a first-year fellow stirring inside him.
“Oh, no way.”
I shook my head hard.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m from that new city, and back in the early days there was really nothing there. If all you’ve got is a hospital sitting alone in an empty field, you’re in for a rough time.”
“Still, if you think of it as building your career, it’s not bad. No patients means you coast; lots of patients means you build your record.”
“Really?”
“We’re going to get worked to the bone wherever we go anyway.”
That was an undeniable fact.
At that moment, the hospital director’s voice rose another octave.
It seemed the speech was racing toward its climax.
“In addition! Our hospital will further strengthen its role as a regional trauma center!”
A photo of a doctor helicopter popped up huge on the screen.
The hospital director clenched his fist.
“Through even more intensive doctor-helicopter training, we will dramatically strengthen our rescue and transport capabilities in maritime and mountainous areas, and in other harsh environments that are difficult to access!”
What the fuck.
The curse slipped out before I knew it.
What?
What did I just hear?
Maritime? Mountainous areas?
Rescue capabilities?
That helicopter I’m supposed to start riding in two months, in August—what about it?
Wasn’t it just a taxi for transporting patients?
You should assign rescue work to a fire helicopter, not a doctor helicopter. How does that even make sense?
I can understand a doctor riding in a helicopter to treat the patient and bring them back.
But rescue?
At sea?
In the mountains?
That’s the kind of thing special forces or firefighters do.
Why would a doctor with a stethoscope and scalpel have to rappel in the middle of the ocean?
I was so aggrieved I was practically foaming at the mouth.
I was already terrified just at the thought of riding a helicopter, and now I hated the hospital director for announcing he was going to crank the difficulty straight up.
“Hyeonjae.”
Lee Minjae called to me with a serious expression.
“Yes, doctor.”
“That... he’s just saying it for show, right? Just to sound cool?”
Well, that guy’s also fated to ride a helicopter someday.
No, wait. Lee Minjae, with his specialist license, could be called up right away.
“…Let’s pray.”
Please let that be nothing but bluster.
Please let it be that I don’t end up rappelling out of a helicopter into the sea in August.
This summer.
I might end up throwing up in the sky.