A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 301

Chapter 58. Golf (1)

Click!

The dark hospital room flooded with light.

Some patients, jolted from sleep, groaned in displeasure. Others rubbed their eyes, still heavy with sleep, while some shielded their faces with blankets to block the sudden brightness.

The time was 6:00 a.m.

A new morning had broken in room 503.

‘I can’t remember the last time I slept straight through the night… It feels like a miracle.’

Ju-won looked down at his legs and murmured to himself.

A dreamlike event had unfolded the previous night.

His attending physician, Jun-hoo, had revealed himself to be a martial artist and treated Ju-won’s complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS) [a chronic pain condition].

To be honest, he hadn’t fully believed in Jun-hoo’s treatment.

Ju-won had researched CRPS extensively, and the consensus was clear.

CRPS is considered an incurable disease, with no known cause or definitive treatment.

He had already consulted with specialists at three university hospitals, but none could offer a solution.

So, even if Jun-hoo possessed martial arts skills, could he truly provide a cure?

Ju-won remained skeptical, but the initial results of the treatment were surprisingly promising.

Since the treatment, Ju-won hadn’t experienced any pain in his legs.

Of course, the downside was a complete lack of sensation, but that seemed a small price to pay.

“Ju-won, good morning.”

His mother, who had been resting on the pull-out bed for family, sat up and greeted Ju-won, her face still showing signs of sleep.

“Yes, Mother. It’s a very good morning.”

“You seem especially cheerful today. Is it because you slept well without any pain flare-ups?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Ju-won replied with a smile.

He felt truly alive now that the pain was gone.

He had to consciously suppress his smile, feeling like he might grin like a fool otherwise.

“Mr. Ju-won, should I administer your pain medication now?”

The nurse, approaching his bedside, asked while checking his blood pressure and temperature.

“No, I don’t need it today.”

“Really?”

The nurse’s eyes widened in surprise.

Ju-won had been receiving painkillers at this time every day for the past two weeks.

“Don’t push yourself. Mornings are usually the hardest for you.”

“That’s right, Ju-won. You’re a patient because you’re in pain. Suppressing it will only make things worse.”

“I’m really okay. I feel surprisingly good today.”

“Well, let me know immediately if you experience any pain.”

The nurse finished her routine and moved on.

Ju-won was bursting to tell his mother about the incredible thing that had happened, but he held back.

Jun-hoo’s secret identity.

He had promised to keep Jun-hoo’s treatment a secret for life.

“Come to think of it, is today your discharge day, son?”

“Yes. You’ve been through a lot too, Mother.”

“What ‘hard work’? I was just there for you. Let’s go out for a nice meal after we leave the hospital.”

“Okay.”

Ju-won’s voice was light and cheerful.

Without the pain in his legs, he felt capable of anything.

He was already excited at the prospect of taking care of his mother.

Looking out the window, he noticed a rainbow in the sky for the first time in a long while.

Now, a rainbow shone in Ju-won’s heart as well.

At 9:00 a.m., the neurosurgeons made their rounds. Doctors in white coats flocked to Ju-won’s room like a flock of sheep.

“You’re being discharged today. How are you feeling?”

The head doctor asked Ju-won.

“I feel great. I’m very happy.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. By the way, you didn’t request your pain medication this morning?”

The head doctor tilted his head, puzzled.

“And you haven’t had a morning seizure for the first time in weeks.”

“Perhaps the nerve block I performed was finally effective,” Associate Professor Hoon-shik chimed in.

Ju-won felt a pang of guilt, knowing Jun-hoo was responsible for the improvement, yet someone else was taking credit.

“Actually, I think I’m feeling much better because Dr. Jun-hoo has been so attentive,” Ju-won said.

“Dr. Seo?”

The head doctor and the other staff turned their attention to Jun-hoo.

Jun-hoo offered an awkward smile, feeling the weight of their gazes.

“He often came to talk to me, massaged my legs, and even got me a signed autograph and a support video from my favorite YouTuber.”

“Dr. Seo, you’ve done an excellent job managing this patient. The other staff should take note of Dr. Seo’s dedication.”

A satisfied smile spread across the head doctor’s face.

The head doctor suggested that Ju-won could continue treatment with the Department of Anesthesiology and Pain Medicine if he wished.

Ju-won didn’t feel it was necessary.

“Dr. Jun-hoo, could I speak with you privately after the rounds are finished?”

“Yes, of course.”

About ten minutes after the rounds, Jun-hoo visited Ju-won’s hospital room alone.

What should he say to Jun-hoo, the man who had freed him from a life of agonizing pain?

His mind raced with thoughts.

A complex mix of emotions overwhelmed him, making it difficult to speak.

“Um… Doctor.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I’ll keep the promise I made to you until the day I die. Thank you. I’m going to live my life to the fullest from now on. I’m going to take care of my mother and live a life I can be proud of in your eyes.”

Ju-won grasped Jun-hoo’s hand and bowed his head.

Tears streamed down his reddened face. His shoulders trembled slightly, and his breathing hitched with sobs.

As of today, Ju-won felt reborn.

* * *

Step. Step.

Jun-hoo, walking down the hallway of the neurosurgery ward, glanced at room 503.

Ju-won’s bed was empty.

He must have been discharged while Jun-hoo was attending to patients in the emergency room and making rounds in the intensive care unit.

However, Jun-hoo felt a sense of accomplishment rather than loneliness at Ju-won’s absence.

He had succeeded in treating CRPS using the Thousand Year Black Night Art, a technique he had mastered after considerable effort.

This success helped Jun-hoo combat the periodic waves of lethargy that threatened to consume him.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

I will find that way in the future. Frustration and despair are not in my vocabulary.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Dr. Jun-hoo.”

Coming back to his senses, Jun-hoo found Nurse Tae-yeon beside him, looking flustered.

She had accidentally bumped into Jun-hoo’s left leg with the dressing cart while hurrying out of a patient’s room.

Under normal circumstances, Jun-hoo would have sensed the cart’s approach with his heightened senses and easily avoided it.

He must have been lost in thought.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing.”

“Really? It hit you pretty hard. It must hurt.”

“I have naturally strong legs,” Jun-hoo joked to ease her guilt.

He returned to the on-call room and sat at his desk.

He felt no pain, despite the impact of the dressing cart.

He likely wouldn’t feel any pain in his left leg ever again.

That was because, before using the Thousand Year Black Night Art on Ju-won, he had tested it on himself.

He couldn’t risk using an unverified martial art on a patient.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Jun-hoo tapped his leg with his fist.

He felt nothing.

It felt empty, as if his left leg had vanished.

Jun-hoo considered this a small price to pay for saving a person’s life.

Jun-hoo’s gaze drifted to the window.

The sky was a brilliant blue, like a clear lake.

A fluffy cloud drifted lazily across the horizon.

The ward was quiet, as it was a holiday.

There were no outpatient appointments or scheduled surgeries.

The professors who had gathered for the morning meeting would be off work by now.

‘Come to think of it, I had some luck last night, too.’

Jun-hoo leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.

The events of the previous night played out in his mind.

The memory of treating Ju-won with the Thousand Year Black Night Art resurfaced.

In the midst of completing the treatment, a cleaning worker had unexpectedly entered the storage room.

A dangerous situation that could have resulted in a backlash, potentially damaging both Ju-won’s sensory and motor meridians.

Fortunately, fate had intervened.

He had completed the martial art just before the worker touched his shoulder.

There were no complications afterward.

Jun-hoo had vaguely explained that he was giving the patient a personal massage.

The cleaning worker had given him a suspicious look but hadn’t pressed the issue.

Beep, beep, beep.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts.

Jun-hoo pulled the phone from his gown pocket and saw that A-young was calling.

“Oh, A-young. Are you on your way?”

-Yeah. I think I’ll be there around 3:00 p.m.

By coincidence, A-young had also been assigned to Daejeon, like Jun-hoo.

Every time this happened, Jun-hoo felt more certain that A-young was his soulmate.

“Our bread enthusiast. Your mouth must be watering already, thinking about Seongsimdang [a famous bakery in Daejeon].”

-It’s not that bad. Don’t exaggerate.

“If it’s you, A-young, you’d be thinking about it even more. You probably have a bread bucket list all written down, right?”

-I’ll admit it.

A-young laughed and changed the subject.

-How did the CRPS patient treatment go? Did it turn out well?

Since revealing his martial arts background, Jun-hoo had been sharing everything with A-young.

He planned to keep the paralysis in his left leg a secret, though.

“Very~ well. The patient was very happy and was discharged.”

-Then you must be feeling down again.

“Why would I be down? The treatment went well, so why would I be depressed?”

As he spoke, Jun-hoo was struck by a realization.

After hearing A-young’s words, he realized he had been feeling strangely down since morning.

There was no apparent reason for it.

-It’s obvious. You were probably subconsciously thinking about other CRPS patients, right?

“……”

-You must have been wondering how to treat all the other CRPS patients suffering like Ju-won. Whether you should go and treat them one by one. How to reveal your martial arts abilities to them, and so on.

“You’re spot on. I can’t fool you, A-young, even if I could fool the heavens.”

Jun-hoo clicked his tongue in amazement.

A-young’s assessment was accurate.

He had learned that 1,000 new CRPS cases are diagnosed each year in Korea alone.

Of course, there are type 1 and type 2 CRPS, and the severity of pain varies from patient to patient.

The sheer scale of the problem felt overwhelming, and Jun-hoo had stopped thinking about it at some point.

“A-young, what should I do now?”

Jun-hoo revealed his vulnerability to A-young.

A-young was the only person on Earth who saw this side of him.

-Don’t worry about other CRPS patients. Just focus on what you need to do now.

“Ignore people who are suffering? How can I, as a doctor, do that?”

-Yes. You have to ignore them. Absolutely.

A-young’s answer was firm.

-People die every second on Earth from murder, starvation, war, and countless other causes. Can you save all of them?

“Of course not. Would I have to be a god to do that?”

-That’s my point. I don’t want you to try to do the impossible. I just want you to do your best for each and every patient in front of you.

“……”

-If you encounter another CRPS patient along the way, you can treat them then, right?

“……”

-Don’t try to act like you’re already the savior of all CRPS patients.

A-young’s response was mature and insightful.

It was enough to soothe Jun-hoo’s anxious heart.

The moment he heard her words, the darkness that had been weighing him down completely dissipated.

A-young was Jun-hoo’s guiding light.

“Thank you, A-young. From the bottom of my heart.”

-Okay, that’s enough. Can I buy a mountain of bread because I did so well?

“I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

Even after ending the call with A-young,

Jun-hoo stared at his cell phone for a long time.

A-young’s presence lingered strongly in his thoughts.

But just then!

The on-call room phone rang loudly. Jun-hoo grabbed the receiver, reacting almost instinctively.

-Dr. Jun-hoo, I’m sorry to bother you, but could you come down to the emergency room right away?

The voice of Dae-hwi, a first-year resident, sounded urgent.