A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 129

The Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts – Chapter 129

Chapter 23: Conman (4)

After finishing the call with MakJam, Jun-hoo smiled coldly.

How could they be so careless?

Didn’t they think I would record the conversation?

Listening to the recorded call, it contained:

A statement from a representative threatening Jun-hoo, labeling Jun-hoo as a “black consumer” [a consumer who complains excessively or tries to exploit businesses].

Abusive language based on his age, and so on.

Good evidence remained intact. The recording would be a great weapon when waging a public opinion battle.

Currently, Jun-hoo’s heart was seething with cold anger.

He felt like he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly unless he showed the company a bitter taste.

The plan was already set.

If it proceeded according to the plan.

The company would soon collapse like a sandcastle.

They would pay dearly for the heinous crimes they committed.

For deceiving the public’s health.

You morons, you messed with the wrong person.

You should have known who to mess with.

I’ll chase you to the end of the earth and destroy you.

Putting the company’s thoughts aside for a moment, Jun-hoo made his rounds in the ward.

He started getting surgery consent forms.

Interns received examination consent forms, but residents had to receive surgery consent forms directly.

The diseases of patients in the neurosurgery ward were diverse.

Brain tumor patients.

Cerebrovascular disease patients.

Spinal cord and cervical spine disease patients, and so on.

And the reactions of the surgery patients were also varied.

Some patients and guardians accepted their fate and signed willingly after listening to Jun-hoo’s explanation.

Some patients questioned him in detail about their survival rate and post-surgery aftereffects.

Some patients refused to sign.

Making Jun-hoo struggle for a long time.

But Jun-hoo eventually obtained surgery consent forms from all patients.

It was thanks to patiently listening to the words of the patients and guardians and empathizing with them.

Patients only think about themselves.

Patients are ignorant of medical knowledge.

Patients don’t know how to think from a doctor’s perspective, and so on.

There are occasionally doctors who have a tendency to disregard patients like that.

Jun-hoo did not show such foolish actions and attitudes.

Anyone who has been seriously ill knows.

That it is difficult to maintain a sound mind and judgment when sick.

So, patients should not be treated like ordinary people.

* * *

“Hello, patient.”

Arriving at the last ward, Jun-hoo faced the patient.

Kim Cheol-soon, 65 years old.

The patient was suffering from glioblastoma, a type of brain tumor.

Glioblastoma was the most malignant of brain tumors.

For reference, brain tumors had a different staging classification from other tumors.

Lungs, stomach, large intestine, pancreas, and so on.

Most of these organs used the TNM (tumor size, lymph node metastasis, metastasis to other organs) classification, but.

Brain tumors did not use the TNM classification.

They were divided into grades 1 to 4 depending on the characteristics and size of the tumor.

Glioblastoma was grade 4, the worst brain tumor.

“Ah… hello.”

The patient replied in a slurred tone.

He seemed to be trying to smile, but his face was distorted as if he was annoyed.

It was due to the aftereffects of the brain tumor.

“Hello, doctor.”

The guardian, who appeared to be his son, also greeted Jun-hoo.

“You’re having brain tumor surgery in two days. I came to get the consent form.”

“D… doctor. N… never mind the rest.”

The patient stammered.

“I just want to live until next winter. Th… that’s… “.

“My wife is pregnant. He says he wants to see the baby born and the baby’s first birthday.”

The guardian explained instead as the patient struggled to speak.

“W… will I be able to live… until next winter?”

The old man’s eyes, looking up at Jun-hoo, were full of the will to live.

Jun-hoo’s heart ached at the patient’s story.

Wanting to live but not knowing if he could live longer.

What could be more desperate and frightening for a human being?

“I’ll… do my best.”

After mulling over what to say, Jun-hoo could only give a generic answer.

These were the most frustrating times.

“S… so until next year… “.

“Father, stop talking, it’s hard for you. You have to get surgery anyway, so sign it.”

“Still… next… winter.”

The patient’s voice was still mournful.

“Can I tell the patient the truth as it is?”

Jun-hoo stared at the guardian with a determined expression.

He spoke as if whispering.

“About what?”

“About the survival rate after surgery. I think the patient wants to know.”

“I don’t think it’s better for him to know. I think he’ll have a harder time.”

“Tell… tell me how long I can live. Or else… I won’t sign.”

As if telepathy had worked, the patient asked about the survival rate first.

“Father. Are you going to keep acting like a child? The hospital doctors will take care of it. You just need to get surgery.”

The guardian said curtly.

But there was no reason to blame the guardian for being harsh.

The guardian simply didn’t want to break the patient’s hope.

“Ah… tell me. I won’t sign.”

“Sigh. I’m going crazy, really. Doctor, just tell him.”

“Then, I’ll explain the consent form at the same time.”

Jun-hoo explained the surgery process and the possible aftereffects after the surgery.

And finally, he delivered the heartbreaking truth.

“The survival rate that the elder is curious about… is like this.”

Jun-hoo struggled to start.

The survival rate after glioblastoma surgery was the worst.

The 1-year survival rate was 50 percent.

The 2-year survival rate was only 7 percent.

The guardian’s face turned white in an instant.

The survival rate seemed to be much lower than the guardian had expected.

But after hearing the answer.

The patient looked rather comfortable.

The patient signed the consent form with trembling hands.

“S… seven percent is enough.”

“…Maybe so.”

After retrieving the consent form.

Jun-hoo lightly held the patient’s thin, wrinkled hand.

The old man who had not given up on life looked like a warrior.

The patient’s words might be right.

Maybe a 7 percent chance is enough.

…Jun-hoo thought.

He also felt that if the patient had not given up on himself, he should not give up on the patient either.

“Aish!”

The guardian stormed out of the ward.

Jun-hoo chased after the guardian.

“Guardian, are you okay?”

“How can I be okay… I didn’t know it would be this serious.”

The guardian said with a bitter smile.

“It’s all my fault. I brought my father to the hospital too late. I thought my father had dementia because he slurred his words and couldn’t move his body well.”

“…”

“So, I had him get psychiatric treatment. But… but… it wasn’t dementia, it was a brain tumor.”

“…”

“If I had only discovered it sooner, it wouldn’t have been like this…”

“It’s not your fault.”

Jun-hoo shook his head firmly.

There was no reason for the guardian to blame himself.

“Brain tumors are inherently difficult to detect early. Considering your father’s age, it’s natural to confuse it with dementia.”

“Can I be acquitted for not knowing?”

“Is there any reason why you can’t? You’re not a doctor.”

Jun-hoo continued calmly.

“The important thing is from now on. From now on, you can be a source of strength for the patient. I’ll do my best too, so please cheer up.”

“I’m sorry for showing you my pathetic side. Thank you for your concern.”

The guardian left the ward to smoke a cigarette.

Jun-hoo stared at his retreating figure.

The surgery would be done well by the surgeon.

He wanted to be a source of strength for the father and son with the sad story.

In a way that only he could.

Could he help the patient?

He went back to the on-call room.

He quickly finished his routine tasks.

After that, he uploaded the MakJam video he had filmed yesterday to NewTube [a fictional analogue to YouTube].

He sent the remaining MakJam to an external laboratory for ingredient analysis.

In his remaining time, Jun-hoo looked through neurosurgery textbooks.

He studied glioblastoma intensively.

-S… seven percent is enough.

Throughout his studies.

The patient’s words were repeated in his head.

The remaining time until the surgery was only two days.

Jun-hoo earnestly hoped that the number 7 would be a number of hope and luck two days later.

* * *

Beeeeeep.

Jun-hoo visited the neurosurgery intensive care unit for morning rounds.

The intensive care unit had a different atmosphere from the general ward.

First of all, there was no vitality to be found.

The patients were all unconscious and had no movement.

They were continuing their lives with various machines and drugs.

Between life and death.

The patients seemed closer to death.

Perhaps that’s why.

The air surrounding the ward felt heavier and more gloomy.

The intensive care unit also smelled different from the general ward.

With every breath.

The pungent smell of disinfectant and the smell of feces.

Something like the smell of festering flesh stung the tip of his nose.

It was also a smell close to death.

“Doctor. I’ll help you.”

Jun-hoo found nurse Kyung-mi and approached her.

Kyung-mi was changing the patient’s position.

It was to prevent bedsores from forming.

Bedsores were a disease in which the area necrotized due to poor blood circulation due to prolonged pressure when the patient was in one position.

If left untreated, the skin would weaken.

And as immunity decreased.

It could even cause sepsis.

“It’s okay. You must be busy too, doctor. And changing positions is my job.”

“Where is your job and my job? We’re all doing it for the patient.”

“What you just said was a little cool.”

“A little? Not a lot?”

Kyung-mi smiled at Jun-hoo’s joke.

“I’m also a 4-year ICU nurse, but I’ve never seen anyone like you, doctor. You take care of the patients with all your heart and take good care of us nurses too.”

“…”

“You’ve never even shown that you’re having a hard time. Is there a secret?”

“Well. There are two things, but it’s difficult to tell you.”

There were two main reasons why Jun-hoo was unparalleled.

One was that he maintained his physical strength and concentration in the best condition with a combination of breathing exercises and nutritional supplements.

The other was that he had an excellent work processing speed thanks to that.

He finished his work like lightning.

He was able to help others in his remaining time.

“I won’t teach it even if my daughter-in-law comes.”

“Tsk, you’re stingy.”

“How about watermelon instead of stingy? I like watermelon.”

He tried to lighten the mood further with another joke, but it backfired.

Kyung-mi looked at Jun-hoo with squinting eyes like a flounder.

“Ahem. Can you tell me which patient to change positions with?”

“Yes. Doctor.”

Jun-hoo remembered the patients Kyung-mi pointed to and began to change their positions.

Bedsores had to be focused on the areas with large contact areas with the bed, such as the ischial tuberosity [the bony prominence at the base of the pelvis], femur [thigh bone], and patella [kneecap].

It was also necessary to consider the current posture of the patient.

Based on this.

He laid the patient lying straight on his side or placed a cushion on the bed contact surface.

He also carefully checked if there were any areas with bedsores.

The treatment was quickly finished because it was not difficult.

“This patient is a patient I haven’t seen before?”

Jun-hoo, who had finished his work first, approached Kyung-mi, who was still changing positions, and asked.

“It’s a patient transferred from the thoracic surgery department. This morning.”

“It’s too much for you alone, so leave it to me.”

Jun-hoo looked down at the patient.

The patient was a man in his 40s, but he was obese.

Even by sight, he looked to be at least 100 kilograms.

“I was going to call you doctors anyway. It takes four or five people to change this patient’s position.”

“Why bother when everyone is busy? I’ll do it alone.”

“No. You’ll hurt your back. This patient weighs 120 kilograms.”

Kyung-mi strongly dissuaded him, but Jun-hoo didn’t listen.

Jun-hoo was confident not only in his handiwork but also in his strength.

At this level, there was no need to borrow the power of internal energy.

Jun-hoo put his left hand through the patient’s waist.

He grabbed the patient’s shoulder with his right hand.

Whoosh!

Turning the patient to the side.

One gesture was enough.