A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 379

Creak.

The door to the on-call room swung open, and a man burst inside.

He must have run, as his breathing was heavy and his hair was disheveled.

“Why are you suddenly popping up here? Surely you didn’t come to see me.”

Jun-hoo looked at the man, tilting his head.

The man’s name was Raymond.

A peer from the Boost Up Program, he was full of inferiority towards Jun-hoo and had provoked him with racial discrimination.

“I called him,” Daniel said, answering for Raymond, who was still catching his breath.

“Why did you call him?”

“You told me to contact you if the patient’s condition worsened. Dr. Raymond is in charge of the patient, and he’s also a VIP.”

Jun-hoo shook his head at Daniel’s words.

He could guess Raymond’s way of thinking.

If the patient wasn’t a VIP…

He wouldn’t have abandoned his schedule and rushed over like this.

‘Is he not only racist but also discriminates against patients?’

“I’m on duty, so don’t worry about it.”

“You’re on duty, but I’m in charge.”

Raymond pushed Daniel aside and sat down.

He seemed displeased with Daniel’s notification, having heard it in advance, and examined the patient’s chart himself.

“You just kept giving him antipyretics [fever reducers] until his temperature reached 38.7 degrees Celsius?”

Raymond glared at Daniel.

“I only followed the PRN (pro re nata, as needed) prescription you gave.”

“Ha… You’re so rigid. Can’t you be more flexible?”

“His temperature dropped after taking the antipyretic, but it suddenly spiked an hour ago. There was nothing I could do.”

“Ha… Are residents supposed to talk back all the time?”

“Hey, take it easy,” Jun-hoo, who had been silent, frowned and stepped in.

Raymond was picking on Daniel.

He was just venting his anger.

Daniel had followed the manual; he had done nothing wrong.

“If you’re going to ruin the atmosphere, leave. I don’t need someone like you.”

“I don’t need someone like you either. Acting like you care about your subordinates.”

“If you’re a superior, act like one.”

The two men’s sharp gazes clashed in the air. Daniel, caught in the middle, didn’t know what to do.

“What a terrible way to start the weekend.”

Raymond looked away from Jun-hoo first.

He turned his gaze to the monitor.

The results of the tests he had ordered earlier were appearing.

The chest X-ray was normal without any shadows, but the urine and blood test results were ominous.

The peripheral blood leukocyte count was 17,300.

Immature leukocytes exceeded 20 percent of the total leukocytes.

It was far beyond the normal range.

The three men stared at each other with wide eyes. At this moment, they were all of one mind.

“This is a major incident, right?” Daniel said, swallowing hard.

“Ha… I was only expecting pneumonia, but this is driving me crazy.”

Raymond ruffled his hair wildly.

Jun-hoo could only chuckle in disbelief.

Justin’s blood test results window read Sepsis.

Sepsis.

It was a terrifying disease in which a microbial infection in any organ of the body spread throughout the entire system.

The mortality rate was a whopping 35 percent.

That was comparable to a high-risk brain surgery.

Considering that Justin was a child who had undergone brain surgery, the probability would increase dramatically.

“It’s even stage 3,” Jun-hoo muttered, biting his lip.

There were classifications of sepsis.

Stages 1-4, and the patient was suffering from stage 3, Severe Sepsis.

Without proper treatment, stage 4, septic shock, would occur.

At that point, it wouldn’t be about treatment.

They might have to pray to the heavens with the guardian to save Justin.

Jun-hoo crossed his arms and glared at the monitor.

Regardless of whether the patient was a VIP or not, Jun-hoo wanted to save the child.

He didn’t want another tragedy of helplessly watching someone die.

So, what should he do?

What was the best way to save the child?

Contrary to his burning heart,

his mind turned colder than ice.

Jun-hoo shone brighter in times of crisis.

“So, what do we do now?” Daniel asked, picking at his fingernails and staring at Jun-hoo.

“Realistically, there’s nothing we can do. We’re not going to open the patient’s head and perform surgery.”

“We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“Let’s start with SOFA (Sequential Organ Failure Assessment). We need to find out which organ the sepsis started in.”

Raymond, who had been silent, looked at Jun-hoo.

“No. That’s not our job either.”

“Why are you acting like that when you’re usually so obsessed with patients? Did you eat something wrong today?”

Raymond scowled at Jun-hoo’s lukewarm attitude.

He created a menacing atmosphere as if he would grab Jun-hoo by the collar.

“How about contacting the department head or a professor? They’re experienced, so they might have guidelines.”

“Oh! That’s a good idea. Not bad, kid!”

Raymond nodded vigorously at Daniel’s suggestion.

He smiled and patted Daniel’s shoulder encouragingly.

But Jun-hoo poured cold water on it again.

“You two are still missing the point. Calling the higher-ups won’t solve anything.”

“You’re frustrating me. So, what do you want us to do? Stop beating around the bush and tell us the solution.”

Jun-hoo got up from his seat and picked up the phone.

* * *

A bed near the entrance of the intensive care unit.

Jun-hoo, Raymond, and a woman were looking down at Justin, who was lying on the bed.

The three of them had worried looks on their faces.

Immediately after being diagnosed with sepsis,

Justin’s vitals began to plummet as if falling off a cliff.

He lost consciousness,

his systolic blood pressure plummeted to 100 mmHg [millimeters of mercury, a measure of blood pressure],

and his oxygen saturation dropped sharply, requiring him to wear an oxygen mask.

“Doctor, what will happen to the patient?” Raymond asked the woman.

The woman’s name tag read Clara, Infectious Disease Specialist.

“First, we need to know what bacteria have spread in his body. So, I ordered a blood culture test.”

“…….”

“It will take two to four days to culture it, though.”

“We’re not just going to stand by until then, are we?”

“For now, the best we can do is mix a broad-spectrum antibiotic from the AMC [antimicrobial] family with saline and administer it.”

“Is the broad-spectrum antibiotic definitely effective?”

“To be honest, it’s a temporary measure.”

Clara sighed and replied.

“We’re hoping the patient will hold on until we can identify the causative agent with the blood culture test.”

Raymond frowned at Clara’s honest answer.

Justin was special to Raymond in many ways.

He was the first patient he had ever operated on and also a VIP patient.

And if Justin died, Raymond would inevitably face criticism in some way.

‘Didn’t he manage the infection properly during the surgery, leading to sepsis?

Is he done just because the surgery is over?

Isn’t he properly managing the patient after surgery,’ and so on.

As a perennial top student, he wanted to avoid the criticism and scolding from those around him at all costs.

“Is there no way to fix it with surgery?”

“Those cases are very rare. Moreover, it’s not related to brain surgery.”

Clara drew a line.

Raymond had no words to refute, so he kept his mouth shut.

“We’ll transfer this patient to our department, so please keep that in mind.”

“Please take good care of him, Doctor.”

Clara nodded instead of answering.

Even after Clara left,

Raymond and Jun-hoo remained in their spots, staring blankly at Justin.

The unconscious child still looked to be in pain.

His crumpled face didn’t seem to ease.

The oxygen mask he was wearing was fogged up.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

From the IV drip chamber, drops of fluid mixed with broad-spectrum antibiotics were falling rapidly.

‘This guy can be useful sometimes, huh?’

Raymond glanced at Jun-hoo and muttered inwardly.

Even though Justin had been diagnosed with sepsis, Jun-hoo only showed a lackadaisical attitude.

So, he thought.

‘This guy is taking revenge on me for what happened before.

He doesn’t have the slightest intention of treating the patient.’

But he was wrong.

Unexpectedly, Jun-hoo called the infectious disease department and asked for help.

His logic was, why should we, as surgeons, treat sepsis?

Of course, there was no law saying that surgeons shouldn’t treat sepsis.

But the choice to get help from internal medicine, specifically the infectious disease department that specializes in sepsis, was excellent.

Neither Daniel nor Raymond had thought of that simple idea.

Why was that?

The patient’s condition was so serious that they were flustered and disoriented.

Also, because he was a neurosurgery patient, they were caught up in the obsession that they had to treat him themselves.

What if they had tried to treat him on their own?

The patient’s condition would have definitely worsened.

What if they had called the professors for help?

They would probably all have laughed at Raymond.

They would have left the advice to get a consultation from the infectious disease department, just like Jun-hoo did.

Raymond was impressed by Jun-hoo’s cool-headed judgment, but he didn’t show it.

He didn’t want to admit that Jun-hoo was one step ahead of him.

The identity of a human being called Raymond was built on the foundation of ‘I’m the best.’

If that foundation collapsed, Raymond himself would collapse.

“It seems like we’ve done all we can do. Aren’t you leaving?”

“I’m going to watch him a little longer before I go.”

“Suit yourself.”

As Raymond left, Jun-hoo took a step closer to the bed.

In fact, there was nothing a neurosurgeon could do for a patient with sepsis.

The job of a surgeon was to cut, dissect, and suture.

He was helpless in front of a patient suffering from systemic infection.

But that said.

If he was a ‘martial arts using surgeon,’ he might still have something to do.

Jun-hoo wanted to conquer sepsis on this occasion.

Even when he was in Korea, he had to occasionally watch patients die from sepsis after neurosurgery.

At that time, he couldn’t even think about treating them.

He was too busy with hospital work and studying his teacher’s papers.

Strictly speaking, he had half given up on treatment because sepsis was not in the neurosurgery domain.

But unlike Korea, he had plenty of time in America.

Above all, if sepsis occurred after neurosurgery, it could not be said that neurosurgery had no responsibility at all.

Jun-hoo quickly scanned his surroundings.

He placed his hand on Justin’s heart.

‘Is this not it? Will it be more harmful?’

Uncharacteristically, Jun-hoo’s actions were slow.

He was hesitant to perform Internal Energy Infusion on Justin.

Internal Energy Infusion.

Its process and role were as follows:

1) Infuse internal energy into the patient’s heart.

2) The pumping heart spreads internal energy throughout the systemic blood vessels, exerting a broad therapeutic or fatigue recovery effect.

He would have confidently performed it normally, but today he was hesitant for some reason.

He was worried that the internal energy with therapeutic effects would increase the inflammatory response.

Was it right to attempt treatment without certainty?

How was this different from human experimentation?

As such questions arose, a completely opposite argument came to mind.

Even if it meant sacrificing Justin,

wasn’t finding a way to treat sepsis going to save countless people in the future?

One person VS many.

While the scale in his mind went up and down dozens of times,

Jun-hoo, having made a decision, took action.