A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 356

The Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts – Chapter 356

Chapter 69: First Surgery (1)

Jun-hoo followed Hector to the pediatric neurosurgery ward.

It was an unexpected destination.

Jun-hoo had expected Hector to head straight to the operating room after their meal.

“Did you forget something? Why the sudden detour to the ward…?” Jun-hoo asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I did leave something behind. The most important thing,” Hector replied, a meaningful smile appearing on his face as he looked at Jun-hoo.

Greeting staff members as they passed, they arrived at room 703.

The room was a private room.

American hospitals generally had private rooms or, at most, rooms shared by two patients.

Jun-hoo remembered his time in Korea, where entering a six-person room often felt as suffocating as being in a chicken coop.

And even though it was called a six-person room, it felt more like a twelve-person room when considering the resident family members who stayed with the patients.

Jun-hoo appreciated that American hospital rooms didn’t have that suffocating feeling.

Thinking that it was all about money, his chest felt heavy in a different way.

“Hello, Doctor,” a guardian acknowledged Hector. The child lying on the bed waved in greeting.

Jun-hoo also offered a greeting.

“The surgery is soon. You must be very nervous.”

“I couldn’t sleep a wink all night,” the guardian replied with a weak smile.

The guardian looked haggard, with dark shadows under their eyes.

“And who is this with you…?”

“This is the surgeon who will operate on Amy.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jane.”

“I’m Jun-hoo Seo.”

As he introduced himself, Jun-hoo was quite surprised.

Even though Jun-hoo was suddenly put in charge of the surgery, the guardian didn’t show any particular resistance or objection.

*Why?*

*Did they trust the reputation of the Mayhew Clinic?*

*So they had confidence that whoever performed the surgery would do well?*

*If not that, did they completely give up hope that the child would recover safely?*

Jun-hoo had no way of knowing the guardian’s hidden feelings.

“How is Amy feeling?”

“Not good. I’m very hungry. I have no energy. I’m scared,” eight-year-old Amy answered in a nonchalant voice.

The message was full of emotion, but the messenger showed none.

But the fear seemed real.

Jun-hoo knew that when pain is repeated over and over, a person’s heart eventually hardens into stone.

Everyone knows that you don’t feel pain when you die.

So, troubled people often killed their bodies or their hearts.

Jun-hoo knew because he had killed his own heart before.

He had the same experience when his martial arts father lost his life to Jeok Il-do.

“After the surgery, you’ll get better and play with your friends and eat lots of delicious things.”

“I hope so,” Amy replied.

Playing with friends and eating delicious food was ‘hope’ for Amy.

Jun-hoo’s heart ached at Amy’s simple wish, wanting what others already had.

“See you in a bit,” Hector said, stroking Amy’s head, and the visit to the ward ended.

Jun-hoo and Hector left the room and headed back to the operating room.

“I thought it was only right to at least show you the patient and guardian’s faces before the surgery, so I brought you along.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Is there another reason?”

“Didn’t you bring me here on purpose to make me give up the surgery myself?”

Quick-witted Jun-hoo saw through Hector’s true intentions.

*This is the child you have to operate on. If your surgery fails, this child will die or suffer more.*

Hector was probably hiding such intentions, to instill a sense of burden and guilt in Jun-hoo about the surgery.

“Jun-hoo.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Amazing. Do you have telepathy or something? How did you know?” Hector chuckled.

That alone was a sufficient answer.

“I just thought about how you, Professor Hector, would persuade me if I were you, from your perspective.”

“What parent doesn’t cherish their child…?” Hector paused before continuing, “Amy is especially precious to her guardian.”

“Is there a reason?”

“Amy was conceived through IVF [In Vitro Fertilization, a fertility treatment] because her parents had trouble conceiving. They apparently tried over ten times because the fertilization didn’t work well.”

Hector’s voice was emotional as he spoke.

It seemed Hector, like Jun-hoo, was a ‘heart’ surgeon rather than just a ‘head’ surgeon.

“Has your initial thought changed?”

“It has changed slightly.”

“Oh, really?” Hector, who seemed pleased, quickly frowned. “After hearing the story, I definitely want to make Amy healthy with my own hands.”

“Sigh… I was happy for a moment. That’s enough. I won’t bring up this story again.” Hector, having failed to persuade him, firmly closed his mouth.

During the 15 minutes heading to the operating room, the two didn’t exchange a single word.

* * *

A large black man was pacing the hallway in front of the 4th-floor operating room.

Jun-hoo had noticed after coming to America that it was very difficult to distinguish the faces of people from other countries.

Unless they had some distinct feature, they all looked the same.

But he clearly remembered the person in front of him.

An overwhelming physique, a head shaved as clean as a monk’s.

That man’s name was Maxwell.

He was one of the trainees taking the Boost Up program with Jun-hoo.

Soon, Jun-hoo and Hector faced Maxwell.

“Have you two greeted each other?”

“Not yet,” Jun-hoo and Maxwell answered simultaneously.

“Then scrub in and look around the operating room. I’ll take care of some business and join you,” Hector said as he left, leaving an awkward silence between them.

Jun-hoo was the first to step forward. “Shall we scrub in first?”

“Let’s do that.”

Jun-hoo entered the operating room with energetic steps, looking around with a sense of wonder.

Only the structure, interior, and equipment layout of the operating room were different, but there was essentially no difference between the operating room at Shinwon University Hospital and the operating room at Mayhew Clinic.

Standing at the sink, Jun-hoo applied disinfectant to a scrub brush and vigorously scrubbed his fingers, between his fingers, his arms, and his forearms.

The rough sensation of the brush and the bubbling, crimson foam were welcome.

Except for the makeshift surgery he performed in Haremga, it had been a month since his last surgery.

Jun-hoo’s heart fluttered at the fact that his life as a surgeon had begun.

A swordsman shines the most when he holds a sword; a surgeon shines the most when he holds a scalpel.

“Hey. You’re Jun-hoo, right?” Maxwell, who was scrubbing in next to him, said with a serious tone.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m taking the first assist in this surgery. I have no intention of giving it up, so give up if you’re going to.”

“Is there a reason why you *have* to do the first assist?” Jun-hoo asked, tilting his head. Maxwell’s voice was too solemn.

“Because you learn the most from the first assist – coordinating with the surgeon opposite you and using a wider variety of surgical tools.”

“Okay. You do the first assist.”

Maxwell, surprised that Jun-hoo would give in so easily, raised his eyebrows to his forehead.

“Hmm… Are you still feeling burdened by the first assist? Well, I guess that could be the case.”

“It’s not that. There’s a reason why I can’t do the first assist even if I wanted to.”

“Reason? What reason?”

“Because I’m the surgeon in charge of this surgery.”

Maxwell’s body stiffened at Jun-hoo’s shocking statement. It was as if he had been petrified.

After a long time, Maxwell regained his senses and raised his voice, the veins in his neck even bulging. “Are you out of your mind? You’re saying you’re doing a pilocytic astrocytoma [a type of brain tumor] surgery, not the professor? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous. Ask Professor Hector for details later.”

Just in time, Hector, having finished his business, joined them at the sink.

“Why are you arguing before the surgery even starts?”

“Professor, is it true that Jun-hoo is the surgeon in charge?” Maxwell asked with a face that he couldn’t believe at all.

“It’s already been decided. Professor Austin even gave his permission.”

“Is this how things are usually done at Mayhew?”

Through this question, Jun-hoo knew that Maxwell was from a different medical school hospital, not Mayhew.

“Not at all. It’s only like this in pediatric neurosurgery. Professor Austin is quite the eccentric.”

“Then who is responsible if the surgery goes wrong?”

“Who else but me, of course,” Jun-hoo said, joining the conversation for the first time in a while.

Maxwell was speechless at his confidence.

The conflict triggered by Jun-hoo quickly subsided.

The trigger had already been pulled, and there was no way to control the fired bullet.

However, Maxwell kept muttering complaints until he put on his surgical gown and entered operating room number 3.

“Since it’s your first time in the operating room, I’ll give you a brief orientation,” Hector said, walking around the operating room and pointing out the locations of the surgical tools. Jun-hoo and Maxwell followed him like chicks.

The operating room, like the surgical room, was not much different from Korea.

There was a space with a blue curtain set up a little away from the operating table. It was a space prepared for the anesthesiologist.

Behind that curtain, the anesthesiologist intensively managed the patient’s vitals.

To the left of the entrance was a storage room for surgical tools and supplies; opposite it was a steel storage cabinet for various injections and medications.

The operating room tour was conducted thoroughly for about 20 minutes.

In the meantime, Amy, who could be said to be the real protagonist of today’s surgery, arrived in the operating room.

Jun-hoo approached Amy and did a time-out [a standard procedure to verify patient identity and procedure details].

Jun-hoo checked the patient identification band on Amy’s wrist and asked, “Is your name Amy?”

“Yes.”

“Are you eight years old?”

“Yes.”

“You’re here for surgery because you have a tumor in your head, right?”

“Yes.”

Amy’s answers were all short.

Her appearance was not so much nervous as it was resigned to everything.

It was by no means a virtue that an eight-year-old child should have.

Perhaps that’s why Jun-hoo wanted to restore Amy’s health and bring back the vitality to her lifeless eyes.

Life was hard, hard enough to make you cry and swear, sometimes unfair, sometimes infuriating, sometimes cruel enough to be frightening.

But Jun-hoo wanted to let Amy know that there was definitely a value in life that outweighed such pain.

*Although you may not be able to hear it, I promise I will perform this surgery perfectly. I will make sure you can get whatever you want in the future.*

Just as his private promise ended, general anesthesia and surgical tool setup were completed.

Jun-hoo took his place on the left side of the child – the surgeon’s position.

Opposite Jun-hoo stood the first assistant, Maxwell, and the scrub nurse.

Next to Jun-hoo stood Hector, who had been relegated to the second assistant.

Originally, Hector should have been the first assistant, but it seemed he had deliberately chosen the side to directly monitor Jun-hoo.

Before the full-scale surgery, Jun-hoo made eye contact with each of the staff members.

As if they had made a promise, excluding only Jun-hoo, all the staff members were sending Jun-hoo distrustful glances.

Everyone was together, but Jun-hoo was lonely because he was alone.

No one believed in Jun-hoo.

But there was no point in blaming the staff. It was a natural reaction from their perspective.

*If you feel wronged, prove it. Prove my skills.*

A fierce look overflowed from Jun-hoo’s eyes, who had made up his mind.