Dr. Taesoo Choi - C5

Blood pressure consists of systolic and diastolic readings, and predicting it without any tools was simply impossible.
Before Tae-su could calm his surprise, the elderly man forced out another voice.
“The earlier diagnosis… was good… but… there’s also hepatorrhexis… added. Ugh! Cough!”
The old man began coughing harshly again.
The blood that had stopped earlier began to flow out once more.
Tae-su, who had tried hard to remain calm, found his mental state understandably shaken.
“Get here within three minutes!”
After yelling at the paramedic, Tae-su almost threw his phone down and quickly grabbed the elderly man’s shoulders.
Even if the man coughed, Tae-su was trying to minimize his movements.
After several more episodes of hematemesis, the old man finally quieted down. However, his face had become even paler than before.
Tae-su quickly rinsed the man’s mouth with the remaining water, but the elderly man showed no response.
It was easy to guess that he was in a mild state of shock.
At that moment, Tae-su realized that the situation was far more critical than he had anticipated.
The thought that someone might die in front of him suddenly overwhelmed him with fear.
What should he do?
There was no time for contemplation, no space for any thoughts.
Fumbling…
With trembling hands, Tae-su forced himself to reach into his bag and pulled out the first aid kit.
When he finally managed to open it, he found only pressure bandages, gauze, band-aids, alcohol, and povidone-iodine solution—nothing helpful.
Tae-su instinctively grabbed the scissors.
Snip!
He quickly cut away the old man’s outer shirt.
“Ah!”
Tae-su sighed in frustration.
The patient’s condition was worse than he imagined.
The parts of his skin that should have been white were covered with bruises, some deep and blackish-blue. Most likely, broken ribs were puncturing his internal organs.
Tae-su felt a wave of dizziness but tried to steady his shaking body. With calm hands, he gently examined the area.
Huff.
It was a sigh of despair.
The liver, lungs, and stomach had likely ruptured.
This was the worst-case scenario for an emergency.
Tae-su summoned all his medical knowledge and experience.
What should he do?
It was incredibly hard to remain calm in this reality, but he forced himself to focus.
The most severely damaged area needed to be compressed to reduce pain—that was the best emergency measure he could offer.
Knowing this, Tae-su’s touch was cautious as he examined the elderly man’s upper body.
His entire focus was on his fingertips.
The sound of wind that had been distracting him disappeared, and the dizziness that had clouded his vision lifted.
It was as if only Tae-su and the elderly man existed in this small space.
Tae-su, with intense concentration, showed no sign of wavering.
His gaze was calm, and his hands remained steady on the man’s chest.
The elderly man, who had been breathing heavily, looked up at Tae-su, his eyes flickering with a faint light.
The old man’s gaze reflected Tae-su’s image, pure and full of determination. It seemed the man had guessed what Tae-su was doing.
A passion to save him.
That was the only thing Tae-su could see.
Did I ever have such purity?
The elderly man asked himself.
His gaze didn’t brighten as if he couldn’t find an answer, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Tae-su’s face.
Even though no action had been taken yet, the intensity of Tae-su’s focus seemed to dull the pain.
This was a young man he’d never met before.
All he knew was that he was an “intern.”
But for an intern, this level of focus was extraordinary.
It was all for the sake of the man dying in front of him.
If only I had known sooner.
The elderly man thought, regret flickering across his face.
Then Tae-su’s finger pressed gently on the elderly man’s right side.
“Ugh!”
A scream-like sound escaped from the old man’s mouth as if his body was tearing apart.
At the same time, Tae-su was startled and immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry!”
“You… do you know where you’re pressing?”
“Pardon?”
Tae-su flinched and quickly pulled his hand away.
The elderly man screamed.
“Press it!”
“Yes!”
Tae-su, still in shock, pressed down again.
There was an undeniable force in the old man’s voice that made it impossible for Tae-su to refuse.
Still dazed, the old man asked,
“Do you know where that is?”
“Where you mean?”
“Answer… time… is running out.”
The weight in the old man’s voice was unusual.
Tae-su, caught by the gravity of it, found himself speaking without thinking.
“It’s the liver.”
“Why… did you press there?”
“I thought it was the most damaged area.”
“Then wouldn’t pressing it… hurt more?”
“It’s a pressure palsy attempt. I thought it might be possible since there were no broken rib fragments.”
“Intern… you’re too bold.”
The old man’s voice carried a hint of scorn.
Tae-su let out a quiet chuckle.
“You’re right. It was arrogant of me.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I hear that a hundred times a day, so it’s nothing new now.”
“Still… well done. Excellent.”
For some reason, Tae-su felt his shoulders lighten at the old man’s praise.
“Thank you, but I don’t think this is the time for a long conversation.”
“Now… or never.”
“Pardon?”

As Tae-su’s face turned puzzled, the elderly man gave a rough explanation.
“It’s hopeless discharge. This isn’t a hospital… but…”
The term “hopeless discharge” refers to a medical condition when a patient is expected to die soon and is being sent home to pass away.
It was something Tae-su had half-expected, but he forced himself to challenge it.
“There’s no guardian, and this isn’t a home. Dying? Don’t talk nonsense.”
“My guardian… is an unknown young man. As for the house… for a mountain like this… it’s not bad.”
“You speak so well, but what terrible things are you saying!”
Tae-su shouted out, his voice trembling.
A patient who has lost all hope cannot survive.
What doctors do is provide the hope that a patient can be saved.
Only patients who carry that hope can receive treatment properly and survive.
Tae-su understood this and, despite his own frustration, the old man managed to force a smile.
“In Eastern medicine, they say a final spark is kindled before death…”
Even though it was a metaphor, Tae-su, an intern, couldn’t fail to understand.
His hand, which had been applying pressure to the old man’s wound, began to tremble once again.
Shaking.
The fear he had momentarily forgotten began to show on his face as the old man’s calm voice reached him.
“Death… when it’s right in front of you… it’s truly terrifying.”
“….”
“My hands… they’ve led… hundreds of people to their deaths.”
“Well then…”
Tae-su cautiously tried to interrupt, but the old man gave a bitter smile.
“Let’s leave that to your imagination… Have you decided on your specialty yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then, shall I ask something else? How does it feel to press on my ruptured liver?”
“It’s terrifying. I feel like running away, like I might pee myself.”
Tae-su’s honest response seemed to make the old man blink slowly, as though he understood. The old man continued,
“Then why aren’t you running away?”
“Even though I’m an intern, I’m still a doctor.”
“Just because of that little license?”
“I really want to run away. Truly.”
Tears dropped from Tae-su’s eyes as he shouted.
He had been trying to reassure himself for the patient’s sake, but the old man’s decisive words broke through, overwhelming him emotionally.
The tear that fell down Tae-su’s face trickled down the old man’s cheek.
At the same time, the old man’s lips moved with great effort, forming a slightly brighter smile.
“Yeah. You have to be afraid of patients… You need to feel the fear, the trembling of your hands and feet…”
“….”
“If you don’t run away from that fear… you’ll become a real doctor.”
“Real doctor, my foot.”
Despite Tae-su’s rebellious tone, the old man didn’t lose his smile.
“Anytime, anywhere… the time will come when you’ll want to run away. When that time comes… think of this moment. You’ll be the only one the patient can rely on.”
“Is that the kind of thing you say when you’re dying? If you’re still here, pray to whatever god there is to save you!”
“Will that change anything?”
“….”
Tae-su closed his mouth for a moment, and the old man continued.
“I told you, I’ve killed… hundreds of patients with my own hands.”
“So?”
“What you’re feeling now… is the despair I couldn’t feel back then. As a doctor, I couldn’t feel it, but now, as a patient, I’m feeling it.”
“What’s the big deal about that?”
Tae-su tried to steady his anxious heart, forcing himself to continue the conversation.