The moment Taeho approached the patient and took his wrist, Bio-Vision activated.
The patient’s heart was visible in his chest, but it was nothing like usual. In the place where a golden aurora should have been beating in a regular rhythm, the area of the left coronary artery was blocked by a black shadow. Around it, a cold blue light was flickering uneasily.
Even more frightening were the areas flashing like orange warning lights. They were signals that the myocardial cells were dying.
“Prepare an ECG!”
At Taeho’s shout, a nurse hurriedly brought over the electrocardiogram machine.
Once the electrodes were attached to the patient’s chest, the ECG appeared on the monitor.
“This is…”
Taeho’s expression turned grave.
The ST segment was clearly elevated in leads V1 through V4. The part that should have been flat was rising like a mountain.
“ST-segment elevation! It’s an anterior wall myocardial infarction!”
Taeho’s voice sharpened.
“Nurse. Can we run an emergency troponin-I test right away?”
“Yes! We can have the result within five minutes!”
The nurse quickly drew blood and ran to the lab. In the meantime, Taeho began rapidly taking the patient’s history.
“When did the pain start?”
The patient gasped harshly and barely managed to open his mouth.
“About an hour ago… It feels like my chest is being squeezed tight.”
“How far does the pain spread?”
“From my chest to my left arm… up to my jaw. I’m short of breath…”
At the patient’s textbook symptoms, Taeho immediately took out his stethoscope and placed it against the man’s chest to auscultate.
Crackles could be heard in the lungs.
His blood pressure was 80/50.
Taeho’s face hardened.
“These are early signs of cardiogenic shock.”
Just then, a call came from the emergency lab.
“The troponin-I result is out! It’s 15.8 ng/ml!”
That was nearly four hundred times the normal value of 0.04 ng/ml. Clear evidence that a massive number of myocardial cells were dying.
“What about CK-MB?”
“It’s 224 ng/ml!”
That, too, was more than forty times the normal range.
Taeho’s face stiffened.
“Acute ST-elevation myocardial infarction due to occlusion of the left anterior descending coronary artery. There isn’t much golden time left. Prepare for PCI right now!”
Taeho’s voice rang through the emergency room.
The black shadow and blue light he had seen through Bio-Vision matched perfectly with every objective test result.
Even more frightening was the fact that the areas flashing orange were growing wider and wider.
The nurse’s face turned pale.
“We have the equipment in the cardiovascular angiography room, but… there’s no cardiology specialist…”
“I’ll do it.”
“But Doctor, you’re…”
“I have experience with over fifty emergency PCI procedures at a university hospital.”
Taeho looked at the patient’s son.
“His heart muscle is being damaged rapidly. If we don’t open the vessel quickly, his life will be in danger.”
“Father… sob… Doctor, please, please save my father!”
The patient’s son sobbed as he took up the pen.
Every piece of objective data showed a desperate situation, but Taeho placed his last hope in what he could see through Bio-Vision. Even within the black shadow, he could still find a faintly beating golden aurora.
‘There’s still hope. If only we have time…’
As soon as the guardian finished signing, Taeho gave the order.
“Move him to the angiography room immediately. Hurry!”
***
Inside the cardiovascular angiography room, the tension was as taut as a drawn bowstring.
Go Hayoung, a veteran nurse, had watched countless procedures, but today, for some reason, her heart was pounding harder than usual.
The operator was a doctor who had already earned a reputation despite his young age.
For an ordinary PCI, it was a standard procedure with a success rate of over ninety-eight percent, but a completely occluded lesion caused by acute myocardial infarction was a problem on an entirely different level.
The pressure of having to pierce through a vessel solidly blocked by a thrombus and pass a guidewire through it perfectly within the limited golden time—this was enough to make even Go Hayoung, with thirty years of experience, break out in a sweat.
From the moment she saw Kang Taeho put on the sterile gown and check the equipment, Go Hayoung sensed that something was different.
“Is the contrast agent ready?”
“Yes, it’s ready.”
His equipment check was precise and swift.
These had to be unfamiliar machines, ones he was seeing for the first time after coming from another hospital.
She was inwardly astonished by the young doctor’s cool-headed judgment.
“Guidewire, balloon catheter, and drug-eluting stent are all ready!”
Kang Taeho quickly administered local anesthesia to the patient’s right wrist.
“Anesthesia complete. Beginning vascular puncture.”
At Kang Taeho’s fingertips, the needle slid accurately into the blood vessel.
Success on the first try.
Not only was it accurate, it was astonishingly fast.
“Inserting guiding catheter.”
The sheath was inserted, and Kang Taeho skillfully advanced the guiding catheter along the aorta.
Go Hayoung held her breath. She had seen countless doctors perform procedures before, but she had rarely witnessed movements this smooth and precise.
“Injecting contrast.”
The patient’s coronary arteries appeared on the monitor. As expected, the left anterior descending coronary artery was completely occluded.
“Complete occlusion confirmed. Proceeding with PCI immediately.”
The guidewire began cautiously entering the patient’s vessel. Many doctors struggled at this stage, but Kang Taeho’s hands remained calm.
One minute passed. Two minutes…
‘It must not be easy…’
Just as cold sweat was about to form on Go Hayoung’s forehead, Kang Taeho subtly changed the angle of the wire. It was a movement so precise it seemed as if he could see clearly inside the blood vessel.
“Trying again.”
Soon, the wire smoothly pierced through the blocked vessel and passed beyond it.
“It’s through!”
She let out a sigh without realizing it.
‘What incredible skill.’
“Inserting balloon catheter.”
As the balloon slowly dilated the vessel, Kang Taeho carefully adjusted the pressure.
In each of Kang Taeho’s gestures, Go Hayoung could feel his meticulous consideration for the patient.
“Twelve atmospheres reached. Holding for thirty seconds.”
Go Hayoung counted the seconds in the tension. After thirty seconds passed and the balloon deflated, it was clear that the vessel had partially recovered.
Go Hayoung let out a long breath.
But it was not over yet.
“Blood flow has been restored, but the risk of restenosis is high. We need to insert a stent. We’ll go with a 3.0-millimeter stent, 18 millimeters in length.”
Watching Kang Taeho choose and insert the stent, Go Hayoung was once again amazed by the young doctor’s confidence and decisiveness.
“Confirming stent position. Injecting contrast.”
Just as Taeho had judged, the stent was positioned exactly where it needed to be.
“Beginning stent expansion. Raising to fourteen atmospheres.”
The stent expanded perfectly, supporting the vessel.
“Expansion complete. Performing final angiography.”
As the contrast agent was injected, the monitor showed blood flow surging freely through the previously blocked left anterior descending coronary artery.
It worked! He’s alive!
Go Hayoung’s eyes grew moist without her realizing it.
“Revascularization complete. Blood flow has been restored one hundred percent.”
Go Hayoung looked at Taeho, who had saved the patient, and bowed deeply to him in her heart.
His reputation is truly deserved!
To display such technique at such a young age!
It was the fastest and most precise cardiovascular angiography procedure she had ever seen.
When Taeho looked through Bio-Vision, he could see the change.
The black shadow had vanished, and the cold blue aurora was gradually changing into a warm golden light.
After finishing the procedure and removing the equipment, Taeho’s hands trembled faintly. It was the phenomenon that came when tension eased after extreme concentration.
“Apply the compression band and keep him on absolute bed rest for four hours.”
Thirty minutes later, the patient slowly opened his eyes.
“Wh… where?”
“Father!”
His son cried out and took his father’s hand.
The patient touched his chest, looking amazed.
“Until just a while ago, it felt like my chest was being torn apart… but now I’m fine.”
Taeho smiled and said,
“We opened the blocked vessel. Blood should flow properly to your heart now.”
The son stood before Taeho, sobbing.
“Doctor. Thank you so much. If it hadn’t been for you, my father would have…”
“I only did what I should as a doctor.”
As he said that, Taeho let out a sigh of relief inwardly.
Thank goodness.
If they had been even a little later, this patient would never have woken up again.
When he checked the patient’s heart again through Bio-Vision, it was now beating regularly with a healthy golden aurora.
***
Taeho was sitting on a chair in front of the emergency room, catching his breath for a moment.
From the end of the hallway came the sound of familiar footsteps.
“Director Kang.”
It was Yu Sihyeok. He looked terribly exhausted, but a smile spread across his face.
“I just heard about the procedure. They said you opened a completely occluded LAD in one go. As expected of you, Director Kang.”
Respect was evident in Yu Sihyeok’s words.
He lightly patted Taeho on the shoulder. It felt warmer than usual.
“Thank you so much for saving the patient.”
“I only did what needed to be done, Chief.”
Taeho answered humbly as he studied Yu Sihyeok’s face. The deep wrinkles around his eyes, as though long fatigue had accumulated there, and his bloodless complexion made his heart ache.
“Chief, you look very tired. I hope you won’t push yourself too hard.”
“There have been quite a few surgeries lately. I’m fine.”
Yu Sihyeok forced a smile.
“I heard that Samcheok Medical Center is going to be shut down.”
At Taeho’s cautious words, Yu Sihyeok’s smile slowly disappeared. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out.
“So you know.”
An indescribably deep sorrow filled his eyes.
“I’ve lived here, caring for patients for more than twenty years. And now they’re telling us we have to close the doors…”
Yu Sihyeok’s voice trembled.
It was not that he, a capable surgeon, had nowhere to go that worried him.
An average of four to six surgeries a day.
If an emergency patient came in at dawn, he would operate through the night, then begin scheduled surgeries again at seven in the morning—a hellish routine.
Even so, he had endured it all with only the pride that he was responsible for regional medical care. The fact that it was being destroyed by forces beyond his control was what tormented him.
Seeing his shoulders tremble, Taeho’s own chest grew heavy.
“Chief. Please don’t give up. I’ll find a way somehow.”
Yu Sihyeok raised his head and looked at Taeho.
Before the young doctor’s firm words, he felt comforted.
“It’s truly reassuring to have someone like you here, Director Kang.”
Yu Sihyeok’s eyes curved into a smile.
The two men looked into each other’s eyes and clasped hands tightly. There was a sincerity between them that needed no words.
“Then please get back safely. I have another surgery…”
Yu Sihyeok gave a brief farewell and turned toward the operating room.
Taeho spoke sincerely to his retreating back.
“Chief, please take care of your health.”
Without looking back, Yu Sihyeok raised one hand high and gave him a thumbs-up.
Taeho stood there, watching his back until he disappeared through the doors of the operating room.
It was the back of a true, unseen hero.