Chapter 93
After the guardian had calmed down a bit.
The patient’s daughter, still sniffling as she repeated her thanks over and over, took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes.
Mr. Kang Youngsik cleared his throat and patted his daughter’s back.
Watching that awkward but warm scene, I instinctively knew this was not my place.
I was destined to head back to the ER right this instant and see patients like a drunk who’d fallen and split his chin open, or a child suddenly burning up with fever.
In other words, staying in a place overflowing with that heartwarming mystery and emotion of life was not really my thing.
I half-lifted myself from my seat and spoke as cautiously and politely as I could.
“Ah, sir. It looks like the professor needs to see outpatients now, so… then I’ll head back to the ER…”
“Huh?”
Just as I was about to get up and flee, Professor Kang Hyunjoon’s low, heavy voice grabbed me by the ankle.
“Wait. Stand back here.”
“Ah, yes, sir.”
You had to listen to professors.
Social skills were important.
In the end, I stood at attention in the corner of the exam room, behind the patient.
Professor Kang glanced at me, then looked back at the monitor with an expression that could have been satisfaction or something else.
And so the unwanted observation practicum began: a front-row viewing of the trauma surgery professor’s outpatient clinic.
“All right, Mr. Kang Youngsik.”
Professor Kang adjusted his glasses and brought up the EMR chart on the monitor.
“Let’s see. The last time I saw you was… already three weeks ago. Time flies. When I first met you, you were practically dead and then came back to life, and now you look much better. Good.”
I recalled that day to myself.
A peaceful day for an R1.
The day that almost sent my entire medical career into the disciplinary committee.
The day that crazy old scalpel god made me cut a person open with my own hands.
I could almost smell that day’s blood again.
“How has your appetite been? Any bloating, stomach pain, or anything like that?”
“Goodness, Professor. For the first month or two, you told me to eat only porridge, and I thought I was going to die. But now I can chew meat! And a shot of soju too… ugh.”
The patient was chatting excitedly, then got jabbed in the side by his daughter’s elbow and let out a groan.
“Dad! Alcohol!”
“N-no! I mean I just want to eat it! Not that I drank it!”
“Haha.”
Professor Kang laughed heartily.
“No alcohol yet. I told you to hold off for at least a year. It still has a long way to heal.”
“And are your bowel movements normal?”
“Yes, Professor. Well, I’m doing fine—once a day.”
‘Mm, oh. I know this one.’
He was checking for intestinal adhesions or bowel obstruction after abdominal surgery.
Cases where the abdomen had been full of fecal fluid and blood like that were especially likely to have the intestines stick together and cause a blockage later.
That’s why he was asking so carefully about eating patterns and bowel habits.
“Good. Then let’s take a look at the CT you had taken this morning.”
When Professor Kang clicked the mouse, abdominal CT images dated today appeared on the monitor.
“So if you look at these images… you had them taken today, right?”
“Of course, Professor. I got them taken just today. Good grief, the amount of money I’ve had to pour into this hospital… sniff.”
As the patient grumbled, his daughter shot him another glare.
“Now, this is…”
Professor Kang rolled the wheel, sweeping through the cross-sectional images up and down.
“Now, this is where that rebar was lodged back then. Near the liver, toward the spleen side, and… if you look at the lower part here…”
Professor Kang pointed out the traces from seven months ago with the mouse cursor.
“As you can see, seven months ago the entire abdominal cavity was full of blood and pus, so the organs couldn’t even be distinguished. In particular, there was a very large abscess in this space here between the liver and kidney, called Morrison’s pouch.”
“My goodness, was my belly really like that…”
“It was. But if you look now…”
Professor Kang enlarged the image.
“These are today’s images. The abscess and pooled blood are all completely absorbed. The inflammation levels are normal too. At this point, it’s basically cured. Completely cured.”
I stared blankly at the black-and-white screen.
It was clean.
‘Hmm, I’m not so sure about that….’
Suddenly, one slice Professor Kang had passed over caught my attention.
The intestinal adhesions seemed to be minimal, but part of the small intestine looked oddly shifted to one side.
Was that just a normal course?
Or was it mild postoperative adhesions?
Could that cause pain later on?
‘I’ll ask the gallery in a bit.’
I resolved that inwardly.
‘No, should I ask now? Hmm, I’m torn.’
No, this wasn’t the time—the professor was still explaining.
Hold it in, Han Hyeonjae.
In the end, I gave up on opening the gallery and focused on Professor Kang’s explanation again.
“So, Mr. Kang Youngsik. We’ll stop the antibiotics completely starting today. If nothing in particular is bothering you, let’s see you again in six months.”
“Oh, Professor! Thank you! Thank you so much!”
The patient and guardian stood up and bowed over and over.
As he accepted their thanks, Professor Kang glanced over at me.
“Don’t thank only me. Please thank that young man over there again too.”
Professor Kang pointed at me with a nod of his chin.
“If that doctor hadn’t opened up my belly in the ER that day, I’d really have been in serious trouble.”
“Ah, doctor! Truly! May you be blessed!”
“Oh, really, it was nothing… I just…”
I waved my hands frantically, not knowing how to handle all this excessive gratitude.
Then, Professor Kang Hyunjoon spoke to me in a very meaningful voice.
“Anyway, that hand of yours is a very precious hand, Dr. Han. Take good care of it. And don’t go cutting people open just anywhere.”
Professor Kang said that and let out a hearty laugh at his own pointed joke.
All I could do was
“Haha… yes, Professor…”
and force a smile.
Professor Kang let the smile fade and turned back to the patient.
“Anyway, the reason we called in our emergency medicine doctor is,”
Professor Kang picked up a sheet of paper.
The stiff title [Research Participant Information and Consent Form] was printed on it.
“This emergency medicine doctor is going to give a presentation.”
“A p… presentation?”
The patient looked back and forth between me and Professor Kang in confusion.
“Ah, well, sir. At a medical conference…”
“Ahem, Dr. Han doesn’t need to say anything. I’ll explain first.”
Professor Kang gently cut me off.
‘Yep. Understood. Back to air mode again.’
“This is supposedly for the advancement of medicine… or something like that. Well, that’s part of it, but in any case, this young man will be presenting your case.”
“You mean he’s going to present about me…?”
A hint of wariness entered the patient’s voice.
“Yes, yes. The important thing is that all personal information or anything that could identify you will be removed before it goes out.”
Professor Kang pointed to a section of the consent form.
“We’ll erase the name Kang Youngsik, the resident registration number, address, phone number—all of it. We’ll just present the medical facts: a male patient was impaled on rebar, and the ER treated him this way and that and saved his life. If it goes well, it’ll be good for that doctor, and later it can help medical progress too.”
“So that’s what you mean…”
The patient stroked his chin, lost in thought.
“Well, if you don’t consent to this, there won’t be any disadvantage to your treatment or anything like that. We only see you once every six months now anyway.”
Professor Kang stated the facts very matter-of-factly.
He took the attitude that the choice was entirely the patient’s.
Then the patient glanced my way for a moment, burst out laughing, and gave Professor Kang’s desk a light tap with his palm.
“Aw, come on, I can’t even give a lifesaver a little signature? Cut me open or talk about my story, do whatever you want! Go right ahead…”
Just as the patient was about to pick up the pen.
“Dad! Wait.”
The daughter, who had been sitting quietly beside him, grabbed her father’s hand.
‘Oh.’
I marveled inwardly.
‘As expected. His daughter is really meticulous. Right, you shouldn’t just sign things without thinking.’
A document that important should be read carefully.
Who knew what problems might come up later if he signed without checking.
‘Take your time checking it. It’s absolutely not because I want to go back to the ER slowly.’
I stood in the corner of the exam room, trying to be as invisible as possible, and watched their conversation.
The daughter took the consent form from her father and began carefully reading the dense text.
“Ahem… the purpose of the study is… medical education and academic presentation… personally identifying information will be encrypted… consent can be withdrawn at any time…”
At last, her long, careful reading was finished.
The daughter nodded and held the consent form back out to her father.
“Um… yeah, you can sign it, Dad. It’s nothing much. They won’t use any personal information, and if we say we don’t want it later, they’ll stop it right away.”
“Then why did you stop me? I’m not a kid.”
Mr. Kang Youngsik grumbled as he picked up the pen.
“Honestly! What’s so bad about checking carefully!”
His daughter snapped at him, her face reddening.
“Haha, you two seem to get along really well.”
When I awkwardly chimed in, Mr. Kang Youngsik burst out laughing.
“Thank you for signing.”
As I took the consent form, Professor Kang drove the point home one last time.
“As you read, if you later change your mind and contact the hospital separately to object before it’s made public, it’ll be stopped as is, so don’t worry.”
“Ah, I’m not that petty a person, Professor.”
“Then I’ll see you in six months. Next time, don’t say you’ve been drinking.”
“Understood! Thank you, Professor! Thanks, emergency doctor!”
“Thank you!”
The patient and his daughter left the exam room, bowing repeatedly.
Once the door closed, only Professor Kang and I were left in the exam room.
“Phew. All done.”
Professor Kang rolled his stiff neck and said,
“Dr. Han, you should head back to the ER soon too. Sorry for holding you up when you’re busy.”
“Not at all, Professor! Take care!”
At the long-awaited order to leave, I bowed ninety degrees and fled the exam room.
In my hand was that thin consent form containing someone’s life.
It felt strange.