Dr. Taesoo Choi - C9

Since it was something most second-year residents would do, Taesu stood beside the patient.

Whether he had noticed it first or not, Kim Seokdong immediately glared at him.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s the patient Im Taekjin. His oxygen saturation seems to be continuously dropping.”
Upon hearing Taesu’s report, Kim Seokdong’s gaze grew sharper.
“What did I say?”
“Pardon?”
“What did I say?”
Taesu, finally understanding the tone of Kim Seokdong’s growl, repeated exactly what he had heard.
“You told me to keep monitoring.”
“Before that.”
“You said not to leave the station until you called for us.”
“Did I call for you? Did I ask you to come here?”
Kim Seokdong’s harsh words made Taesu realize his mistake, and he quickly apologized.
“I’m sorry.”
“If you understand, then leave.”
“But the oxygen saturation of Im Taekjin still needs to be checked.”
As soon as Taesu finished speaking, Kim Seokdong sharply asked,
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“…”
“If you understand, just go. I’ve got a lot of work to do, as you can see.”
His voice was tense, and with his sharp expression, he appeared quite unpleasant.
Taesu, unable to say anything more, turned and walked away.

As he headed back toward Im Taekjin’s bed, Taesu’s fingers twitched.
He immediately grabbed his own hand with his other one.
“Hold on.”
It was ugly, but it was the reality.
He had to suppress the urge to grab someone by the collar, forcing himself to calm down.
All that was left for him to do was record the chart.

Back at Im Taekjin’s bed, Taesu focused on the oxygen saturation.
His gut feeling was telling him that something wasn’t right. As he kept watching, the number dropped again, then went up slightly.
Everything else seemed stable, but the oxygen saturation was the only problem.
He couldn’t just stand there and watch.
What could he do?
As Taesu pondered, his eyes fell on the chart.
The patient was supposed to be checked every 15 minutes. But in such a short time, the oxygen saturation levels were fluctuating.
After a brief moment of thought, Taesu’s gaze hardened.
All he could do was document the abnormal status thoroughly.
So, he began recording almost every minute.
One minute… then another.
As time passed, the fluctuating oxygen saturation levels finally dropped again.
The fact that the oxygen saturation was gradually decreasing meant something was wrong.
The patient could have fluid in the lungs or a reduced heart function.
Taesu thought about what needed to be done in this situation.
It was as if the answer came to him instantly.
Administering a vasopressor, a drug used to increase blood pressure, could help.
The patient was already receiving a vasopressor.
Just in case, Taesu continued to monitor the numbers in the chart, muttering quietly to himself,
“Maybe adding 10 milligrams would help.”
However, he couldn’t administer the medication on his own.

A little while later, the feeling of frustration, knowing there was nothing more to do than fill out the chart, deepened.
“Who called arrest?”
A strange voice echoed as it entered the SICU.
At the same time, the nurses’ greetings filled the room.
“Hello.”
“Yes, thank you for your hard work.”
Before the warm greetings ended, Kim Seokdong’s voice was heard.
“Did the professor arrive?”
“Hmm, I just finished surgery, and suddenly there’s an arrest?”
“Let’s go this way first.”
Following Kim Seokdong’s voice, footsteps could be heard.
Taesu, knowing they were heading toward him, stepped aside and stood against the wall.
At that moment, two men approached Taesu.
One was Kim Seokdong, and the other was a man in his early 40s. He had a sharp impression, and his fierce eyes made him stand out as a memorable figure.
It was Kang Hyunpil, a thoracic surgeon.
He was one of the attending surgeons in thoracic surgery and an associate professor, but he was known for his exclusionary tendencies.
He was often called a purist.
He was incredibly lenient toward his alumni and, as rumors had it, had built up influence behind the scenes.
Purists didn’t usually view interns, residents, or professors from other universities favorably.
He looked at Taesu for a moment and then asked Kim Seokdong,
“Why is an intern here in the SICU?”
“He just returned today but was late.”
“Is that so?”
There was a hint of mockery in his calm voice.
But that was all.
Professor Kang Hyunpil didn’t show much more interest in the intern, Taesu.
He turned his attention to Kim Seokdong and asked,
“What caused the sudden arrest?”
“We haven’t figured it out yet.”
“It’s been 35 minutes since the arrest, and you still haven’t figured out the cause?”
“There were no particular signs of abnormality before it happened. We’ve kept the patient stable for now, though.”
Kim Seokdong subtly shifted the responsibility onto Taesu.
Kang Hyunpil frowned slightly as he heard this, but he didn’t scold anyone. Still, hearing that they had been observing the patient, he turned to Taesu and asked,
“So, what did you find?”
“The oxygen saturation was slightly decreasing.”
“Oxygen saturation?”
“I’ve recorded it on the chart.”
Taesu immediately handed the chart to Kang Hyunpil.
Rustle.
After briefly glancing through it, Kang Hyunpil looked at Taesu with a puzzled expression.
“Why did you record it every 15 minutes at first, and then every minute afterward?”
“That’s…”
Taesu hesitated for a moment.
Since it was something he had done on his own judgment without any instructions from Kim Seokdong, he was uncertain.
However, Kang Hyunpil didn’t seem to be criticizing him; rather, there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Perhaps noticing this, Kim Seokdong quickly spoke up.
“I had Taesu record it, just in case.”
“So, what did you think was the right course of action?”
“I’m sorry, but I thought it was best to observe for a bit longer before making a decision.”
At that moment, Kim Seokdong scratched his head awkwardly.
Clap!
Kang Hyunpil lightly patted Kim Seokdong’s shoulder, a broad smile appearing on his face.
“Good job. Very well done.”
“Pardon?”
“You made the right choice not to rush into any actions, and your instructions to record the chart minute-by-minute were excellent.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Kim Seokdong’s face lit up with a bright smile.
Then, Kang Hyunpil gave a new order.
“Go ahead and add 10 milligrams of vasopressor.”
The moment Taesu heard that, he got chills.
Adding 10 milligrams of vasopressor.
It was exactly what he had been thinking.
Taesu felt a shiver run down his spine once more.
What was going on?
He was overcome with a sense of fear about the changes he didn’t understand.
However, neither Kang Hyunpil nor Kim Seokdong noticed Taesu’s condition, as they were deep in conversation.
Kang Hyunpil then issued another instruction.
“After administering the drug, monitor for about an hour and then report the progress to me.”
“Yes!”

“If something like this happens again, it might help to ask the senior residents for advice, don’t you think?”
At Kang Hyunpil’s suggestion, Kim Seokdong quickly responded.
“Got it. I’ll ask next time.”
“If the senior residents don’t know either, feel free to ask me directly.”
“It would be an honor, Professor!”
Kim Seokdong bowed deeply, expressing his gratitude.
It was rare for an attending physician to tell a second-year resident to ask them directly.
If they do well, they get support.
This was possible because the two were alumni of the same school.
Kang Hyunpil gave one more warm smile and patted Kim Seokdong’s shoulder before turning his gaze to Taesu.
Noticing the slightly trembling eyes and the faint quiver in Taesu’s shoulders, Kang Hyunpil’s expression shifted subtly.
“Choi, are you okay?”
“Yes? Oh, yes.”
“You alright?”
“I’m fine.”
It wasn’t quite the truth, but Taesu decided to keep quiet about his discomfort.
As soon as Taesu put on a bright expression, Kang Hyunpil continued speaking.
“Choi, you should learn these things too. It’s not easy to judge when to record something every minute; it requires good judgment.”
“I understand.”
“Well, it seems there are no other issues, so I’ll take my leave now.”
As soon as Kang Hyunpil finished speaking, Kim Seokdong offered to guide him.
“I’ll see you out.”
“I’m not lost, you know.”
“Still, I’d like to ask you a few more things.”
Kim Seokdong clung closely to Kang Hyunpil, not wanting to miss the opportunity to ask more questions as they walked away.

Meanwhile, Taesu, left alone, unknowingly smiled faintly.
“Just in case, you said to record it, huh?”
A sense of bitterness filled his heart.
It didn’t matter if he did well or not—interns were always criticized either way.
But in this situation, he couldn’t help but feel irritated.
He didn’t do it for praise, but a simple “good job” would have been nice.
For a moment, those thoughts passed through his mind, and then he turned his gaze back to the patient with a strange expression.
“Sir, how was I supposed to know?”
Squeak. Squeak.
The frost on the ventilator appeared and vanished, but there was no response.