Dr. Shin Seonhan: The Doctor Who Sees the Future

Chapter 7
Intern Shin Seonhan (6)

“Make way!”

Thump, thump, thump!

The thoracic surgeons burst through the door.

The large machine beside them is instantly recognizable as an ECMO device.

ECMO (Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation).

It’s called the “last lifeline” for patients with failing hearts.

This is because it’s considered a last resort when there’s no chance of resuscitation through artificial respiration, CPR, or cardiac massage.

In other words, it’s the final means to buy time.

One of the thoracic surgeons rushes over and asks me,

“How long has it been?”

“We’re on the sixth cycle, so… twelve minutes!”

“It’s a good thing we were notified in advance.”

They quickly move the machine next to the patient.

.

The pride of the university hospital.

And among them, the Yeonguk University Hospital thoracic surgery department is considered top-class in Korea.

The female doctor leading the team says,

“We’ll be using both femorals, so step back.”

Her voice is calm and composed, like still water.

The people crowding around the patient flinch and step back.

Her name is written on her gown.

Flap!

Two thoracic surgeons skillfully unfold a drape. It’s as if an operating room is being set up on the spot.

Dr. Song Yuju, wearing a mask and cap, says,

“Starting ECMO insertion.”

“Senior, the patient is moving a lot because of the compressions. Will it be alright?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Dr. Song Yuju places her hand on the patient’s shaking thigh.

Sweep—

Her focused gaze examines the patient’s body.

She remains completely unfazed despite the urgent situation.

“Starting from the medial side, V A N… Let’s secure the vein first.”

Muttering to herself, Dr. Song Yuju inserts a needle into the patient’s thigh.

*Push—

Finding a blood vessel while the patient is being moved up and down must be incredibly difficult.

But Dr. Song Yuju’s hands show no hesitation.

Before long, dark red blood appears in the syringe.

Low murmurs of admiration ripple through the room.

“Wow, as expected of Yuju.”

“Senior, do you have ultrasound on your fingers?”

While those around her express their awe, she remains unfazed.

“Enough with the nonsense. Guidewire.”

“Yes!”

The doctor next to her immediately prepares the wire.

I can see the coiled guidewire, like a snake, being inserted into the patient’s body.

The doctor examining the heart with ultrasound says,

“The guidewire has entered the IVC (inferior vena cava).”

“Next, the artery.”

Following Dr. Song Yuju’s calm instructions, the thoracic surgeons prepare to insert the next needle on the opposite side.

‘Amazing.’

I swallow hard.

The process flows seamlessly.

Even with my untrained eyes, I can see that Dr. Song Yuju’s skill and leadership are extraordinary.

On the other hand, the thoracic surgeon on the opposite side of the patient seems relatively inexperienced.

Dr. Song Yuju instructs calmly,

“Angyeong, focus. The blood will be bright red because of the oxygenation.”

“Understood, Senior.”

The resident on the other side, wearing thick glasses, inserts the needle carefully, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

After a few fumbles, bright red blood wells up in the syringe at his fingertips.

Then, the bespectacled resident’s eyes widen.

“Uh oh, Senior… I suddenly can’t aspirate any blood!”

“Hold on.”

Dr. Song Yuju gives a sharp order.

“Interns, stop compressions!”

Halt!

At her command, the interns performing CPR freeze.

All eyes turn to the syringe on the other side.

“Now, try pulling the syringe while moving it slightly.”

“Yes…”

The resident with glasses carefully moves his hand, and soon, bright red blood fills the syringe again.

“Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Now, slowly push the guidewire in.”

“Okay…”

“If you feel any resistance, stop immediately. If you force it, you’ll damage the blood vessel and the patient will die.”

“Ugh…”

The bespectacled resident inserts the wire cautiously, sweat dripping down his face.

Slide—

Thankfully, the guidewire goes in without any problems, and the observing doctors breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The rest of the procedure goes smoothly.

“ECMO on.”

“The flow is good. No signs of recirculation. Excellent.”

“Good work.”

Everyone relaxes at Dr. Song Yuju’s words.

Sighs of relief fill the air.

I, too, feel drained, having been so focused that I almost held my breath.

‘…Did we save him?’

I look at the clock on the wall.

03:22—

It’s exactly the same time of death I saw in my dream.

But patient Kim Jeongsu hasn’t died. He’s connected to ECMO, his second heart, prolonging his life.

Now we just need to find the cause and correct the problem, whether through surgery or another procedure.

I glance to the side and see Kim Snake looking as if he’s aged ten years.

Our eyes meet, and his pupils dilate.

Just then, the internal medicine attending physician on duty arrives in a hurry.

“What happened?”

Kim Snake hesitates before answering.

“He suddenly went into V-fib in the early morning, and we performed CPR repeatedly… The rhythm wouldn’t stabilize, so TS (thoracic surgery) inserted ECMO.”

“ECMO?”

The attending physician stares at the thoracic surgeons with surprise.

Dr. Song Yuju removes her mask and nods.

“Yes. Internal medicine contacted us in advance, so we weren’t late.”

“Well done, well done.”

The attending physician sighs in relief.

Soon, the situation is under control, and the doctors pat each other on the shoulder, acknowledging their efforts.

This is definitely a different scene from the future I saw in my dream.

***

My throat feels parched.

My mind is racing.

I stand in front of the vending machine in the visitors’ lounge, rummaging through my pockets. Damn it, of course I don’t have any coins when I need them.

“This is driving me crazy.”

Thud—

I press my forehead against the cold vending machine to cool down.

I need a moment to gather my thoughts.

So, what I saw really was a glimpse of the future?

“Are you alright?”

Yeonseo approaches me.

“You look pale. Did you push yourself too hard with the compressions?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I just squeezed the ambu bag, that’s all.”

Yeonseo’s eyes seem to sparkle with excitement.

Why is she so happy?

“Those thoracic surgery seniors were so cool, weren’t they?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Especially Dr. Song Yuju! She was so charismatic! I want to be a cool doctor like her someday!”

Her eyes are shining as if she just met her idol.

According to Yeonseo, Dr. Song Yuju is a third-year resident in thoracic surgery.

Rumor has it that she’s skilled, has strong leadership, and is favored by the professors.

Three years ago, she received A+ grades in all departments and was crowned “Intern of the Year.”

‘As expected, she seemed extraordinary.’

I recall the scene from a while ago.

The way she calmly and confidently took control of the situation.

If there’s a role model I should emulate during my internship, it would be her.

“But how did you know? That patient Kim Jeongsu would have another V-fib episode?”

“Well…”

I’m curious about that myself.

It’s hard to dismiss it as a mere coincidence, considering all the details aligned perfectly.

I can’t help but think that I truly saw the future in my dream.

“It was just a hunch.”

“A hunch?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a very ‘fresh’ answer, Mr. Fresh. Are you hiding something from me?”

She playfully looks me in the eye.

I’m at a loss for words.

“Hey, interns.”

Just then, Kim Snake interrupts our conversation and enters the lounge.

“Dr. Kim Beomsu.”

“Move aside if you’re not going to get a drink.”

His face is as pale as a sheet.

Did he become dehydrated from stress in such a short time?

It’s understandable, considering the patient he was in charge of almost died.

Kim Snake inserts coins into the vending machine with trembling hands and then mutters in my direction,

“There’s a saying, ‘beginner’s luck.'”

“Yes?”

“This time, you happened to be right. Moving him to the ICU and contacting the ECMO team was a stroke of genius.”

Kim Snake says weakly.

Then, he suddenly glares at me fiercely.

“But don’t get cocky just because you’re an intern! It’s like a cow catching a mouse by accidentally stepping back. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

I nod obediently.

There’s no point in arguing, so in times like these, it’s best to be humble.

Kim Snake gets his ionic drink and turns to leave, but he hesitates for a moment and then offers it to me.

“Here.”

“Yes?”

“You drink it.”

“…?”

“You did well.”

Shuffle, shuffle.

Kim Snake awkwardly disappears from the lounge, and Yeonseo and I stare blankly at his retreating figure.

What was that awkward situation?

Yeonseo says,

“Oppa, I think you scored some points.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never seen that senior give anything to anyone… For Kim Snake to give you a drink, it’s practically a love confession.”

I don’t know. What’s that all about?

I don’t want to receive that kind of thing.

Seeing my hesitant expression, Yeonseo bursts into laughter.

“Why? It’s a good thing! You’ll get a good evaluation from the internal medicine department at the end of the month!”

Yeonseo pats me on the back in congratulations.

Is that so?

…Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose.

I shouldn’t overthink things tonight. My head might explode from overload.

***

Meanwhile, at the thoracic surgery department.

Song Yuju is reviewing patient Kim Jeongsu’s EMR (Electronic Medical Record) and documenting the procedure.

The treatment isn’t over just because they inserted ECMO. This is just the beginning, and meticulous care is needed to find and correct the underlying heart problem.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her fingers fly across the keyboard.

With her cap and mask removed, she has the sharp, determined look of a cat.

“Did you finish successfully?”

A doctor with a bear-like physique enters the room and speaks.

Ma Dongseop.

He’s a third-year resident, like Song Yuju.

Seeing the two of them sitting side-by-side is like witnessing a meeting between a giant and a dwarf.

“Another lollipop? You’ll ruin your teeth.”

“Better than ruining my lungs.”

“Is that a substitute for cigarettes?”

“I’ve been smoke-free for two years now.”

Song Yuju bites into the lollipop.

A heavy smoker during her internship, she quit when she became a thoracic surgeon.

Seeing the lungs of lung cancer patients every day tends to make the desire to smoke vanish.

But sometimes, she needs to snack like this to satisfy the urge to have something in her mouth.

Ma Dongseop asks,

“Is Angyeong doing okay? He was so eager to follow you and experience inserting ECMO.”

“He was shaking like a leaf.”

“Go easy on him. Nobody’s perfect from the start. Everyone learns and grows.”

“I was good from the start.”

“Of course you were.”

Ma Dongseop chuckles.

He sometimes forgets that she’s renowned even within the department as an S-class talent. It often feels like she’s from another world.

“Well, you’ve been good at everything since your internship.”

Ma Dongseop’s eyes soften with nostalgia.

He vividly remembers how every department competed to have Song Yuju on their team during her internship.

It was a mystery why she chose thoracic surgery, an unpopular specialty.

Although Song Yuju is a strong presence in the department, the thoracic surgery team is still struggling with a shortage of personnel.

Ma Dongseop suddenly claps his hands.

“Ah, by the way, there’s a strange intern in the internal medicine department.”

“Who?”

“He’s from Ilun University.”

“Ilun University? That bankrupt school?”

Song Yuju asks.

Everyone in the medical field knows about Ilun University. After all, it’s incredibly rare for a medical school to shut down.

“His name is Shin Seonhan, I think? Since he doesn’t have a school to go back to, I hear he’s working incredibly hard in internal medicine.”

“I can imagine.”

“But the interesting thing is, the actions taken for the patient just now were based on that intern’s opinion.”

“What?”

“The intern ran to Kim Snake and told him, looking him straight in the eye, that he anticipated refractory V-fib and that they needed to insert ECMO.”

Pause.

Song Yuju’s typing stops.

…A one-month intern is a complete newbie. It’s a time when they’re busy just trying to keep up with the tasks assigned to them.

But what did he do?

Predicting the recurrence of ventricular fibrillation and suggesting ECMO in that situation is not something a rookie intern can do.

“Isn’t it interesting? For an intern.”

A playful smile spreads across Ma Dongseop’s face.

Even Song Yuju, who rarely shows interest in others, is subtly chewing on the end of her lollipop.

She taps her fingers on the keyboard and says,

“Indeed, for an intern.”

—————–

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