Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 12

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 12.
The director of the National Organ Donation Institute,
to be honest, wasn’t on close terms with Director Choi Beom-jun from the hospital. More like ships passing in the night?
Since he wasn’t someone worth impressing, the previous director had paid him no mind whatsoever.
Still, the fact that the director came when Beom-jun called was surely because of his title as director of Korean University Hospital.
There was no benefit to distancing himself from Korean University Hospital, the nation’s premier public hospital.
“It’s been a while, Director. I’m late with my congratulations, but welcome back. You’re doing well health-wise, I hope?”
Inside the upscale Chinese restaurant, the National Organ Donation Institute director spoke to Beom-jun with formality.
Beom-jun shrugged. At Korean University Hospital, the staff had been considerate so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, but this kind of treatment wasn’t bad either.
Unfortunately, no talent information appeared for the National Organ Donation Institute director, though this didn’t particularly surprise him.
When he’d registered Min-ho, he’d learned that talent information doesn’t surface for every doctor.
Especially not for the National Organ Donation Institute director, who had nothing to do with Choi Beom-jun’s murder case.
‘It won’t particularly affect my survival rate.’
But he was definitely the key to clearing this quest.
[Main Quest: Stop Im Seong-hyeok’s Wrath]
[Prevent conflict between Professor Im Seong-hyeok and other departments.]
Beom-jun skimmed through the quest information. The department likely to have conflict with Im Seong-hyeok was the Organ Transplant Center.
Sometimes, organs were extracted and transplanted within the same hospital, but often the hospital received organs extracted elsewhere.
The National Organ Donation Institute acted as a middleman broker between hospitals, and Korean University Hospital’s Organ Transplant Center handled the communications with the Institute.
The conflict would arise between the sluggish transplant center staff and Seong-hyeok, who showed no restraint when it came to patients.
The transplant center had its reasons for slower processing, but when Seong-hyeok lost patience and gave the staff a harsh dressing-down, things got tangled up.
Of course, everything he said was right on the mark.
If the center had just stopped nitpicking every step of the heart transplant procedure after that, it would’ve been fine.
But with Seo Jin-ha’s life held hostage like a bargaining chip, Seong-hyeok grew frustrated and had to endure their harassment for a while.
‘There’s no solving this from the inside. So I’ll have to look outward.’
If things went well with the National Organ Donation Institute, Im Seong-hyeok wouldn’t have to harass the Organ Transplant Center. Then there’d be no conflict, no reason for his wrath.
Beom-jun greeted the National Organ Donation Institute director with unusual warmth.
“Yes, I’m doing quite well. I hope you’ve been well too, Director?”
The Institute director hesitated for a moment at Beom-jun’s uncharacteristic brightness, then made a motion to reach for a shot glass of soju.
“If you don’t mind, Director, how about this?”
“By all means. Let’s have a drink together.”
Beom-jun answered as if he’d been waiting for exactly that.
In the spacious inner room, soju glasses clinked with a crisp sound. Beom-jun drank toast after toast with the National Organ Donation Institute director.
“You hold your liquor well, Director! Ha ha ha.”
He drank as much as he wanted and seemed very pleased. He said this was his usual spot. No wonder the employee guiding him to the inner room had been so natural about it.
“I haven’t had a drinking buddy in a while. This is wonder… really wonderful.”
The slightly drunk National Organ Donation Institute director’s speech was slurring. Empty bottles of Yantai Baijiu rolled across the table beside him.
When Beom-jun reached for some side dishes, the director picked up his glass again.
“Now then, here. A toast! To the health of our Director Choi Beom-jun.”
‘Health is the last thing happening to me right now.’
“Cheers!”
But Beom-jun matched his pace and downed the drink. Building rapport with him wasn’t all he was after.
“I was so surprised you called me. How about we do this again from time to time?”
After more time had passed, the National Organ Donation Institute director, now thoroughly drunk and flushed, spoke.
“From now on, let’s keep good communication between the National Organ Donation Institute and Korean University Hospital.”
Beom-jun brought up the hospital and broached the subject he’d been waiting to mention.
“Oh, of course! That goes without saying,”
But as the conversation shifted to business, the National Organ Donation Institute director tightened his blurry eyes, though only his eye corners tilted up, making him look sluggish.
Beom-jun fed him another glass so he wouldn’t sober up.
“Just don’t be so stiff about it. Come on, cheers.”
“You know how we get caught bleeding between donors and recipients. We’re the weaker party in both directions. We are.”
The National Organ Donation Institute director whined about being a super-subordinate. His balding crown, thinly haired, drooped over the table.
“So, brain-dead donors from Cheonhui University Hospital haven’t donated organs lately?”
Beom-jun seized the moment to probe him. The heart Seo Jin-ha received was from a brain-dead donor at Cheonhui University Hospital.
“How did you… wait.”
He hesitated in surprise, choosing his words carefully. Donor information was strictly confidential.
“You certainly have wide connections. You must have sources.”
Though Beom-jun had been misunderstood, he didn’t bother clarifying. It was better to let him think that way.
“I looked into it because we’re about to send them a request anyway.”
At Beom-jun’s words, the National Organ Donation Institute director sat there blankly. Noticing he was getting nervous, Beom-jun addressed him even more casually.
“Come on, what’s there to worry about? We’ll have to do the HLA Crossmatch Test anyway to know anything.”
The key to organ transplantation was minimizing rejection. That’s why the crossmatch test between donor and recipient was essential.
Of course, the results would come back negative.
“That’s right. We need to do it ourselves to know either way. No way of knowing what’ll happen.”
“Exactly, so if the results come back right, make sure you handle it well. Director, pay attention to this. You know what I mean?”
Beom-jun patted the National Organ Donation Institute director’s shoulder and flashed a sly grin. The director felt like something off had happened, but the pungent smell of alcohol coming off him made him forget immediately.
* * *
Seo Jin-ha’s condition worsened by the day. Seong-hyeok often noticed a shadow of worry cross her clear eyes.
“Professor, patient Seo Jin-ha. V-Tach again. That’s twice just today—will she be alright?”
Moved from the emergency room to the intensive care unit, Seo Jin-ha’s heart failed multiple times a day, and each day brought the possibility that it might stop at any moment.
Though she barely made it through each crisis, Seong-hyeok had grown closer to Seo Jin-ha in these unstable days. Being in places without guardians or other staff meant they could have private conversations.
Seo Jin-ha was afraid she wouldn’t wake up again, so she refused to sleep and hated lying down,
and often Seong-hyeok was there beside her, propped up in bed all day.
“I first found out about it during my middle school physical. The doctor did an auscultation and said something was abnormal.”
He nodded at her words. If a doctor had detected an abnormality from auscultation alone, he must have been quite skilled.
“So we went to a big hospital, but they said it was fine. They said we could have a procedure later if breathing became difficult.”
That bastard was useless. If he didn’t know, he should have referred her to another hospital. Or better yet, he should have been aware of his own ignorance in the first place.
“I was planning to go to high school in Finland. So I was relieved. You have no idea how worried I was about not being able to study abroad back then.”
As she spoke, Seo Jin-ha’s oxygen saturation fluctuated. She was sobbing and gasping for breath. Even pausing between words, she didn’t stop talking.
“Back then. Huff, I should have gotten more tests done. Pant, but I didn’t. Because they said it was fine, I was happy.”
Like many patients, she also blamed herself for her illness. She thought she must have done something wrong.
Seo Jin-ha closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. With her hands, she hugged herself, wrapping her arms around her elbows like crossing her arms.
Already having received a terminal diagnosis, she had to keep herself together, refusing to cling to life. The more she wanted to live, the greater her fear of death became. To keep from being consumed, she had to let go.
“It’s not your fault, Seo Jin-ha. If that hospital had been Korean University Hospital, I would have caught it.”
Seong-hyeok felt sorry for her. This was a clear case of misdiagnosis. The patient had walked in for a checkup, and they’d missed such an obvious opportunity!
If that hospital still existed, he wouldn’t have minded going there and making sure it didn’t.
“Huff, pant.”
Watching Seo Jin-ha continue to gasp for air, Seong-hyeok briefly increased the oxygen flow going into her nose.
Yesterday Seong-hyeok had taken a detailed history from Seo Jin-ha. Focusing on her procedures and major events.
‘Last year she had a second surgery because of a thrombus that formed around the valve.’
A thrombus was a blood clot, a scab formed from coagulated blood. Block a cerebral blood vessel and you get a stroke; block a cardiac vessel and you get a heart attack. How many times had she faced such dangerous situations and narrow escapes?
But Seo Jin-ha always spoke of it matter-of-factly, as if recounting someone else’s story, and Seong-hyeok found no will to live in her. At just twenty-eight, she resembled an elderly person on their deathbed.
With a grave expression, Seong-hyeok heard Seo Jin-ha speak brightly.
“Professor, you know what? I’m craving some tteokbokki. I can’t have it, can I?”
At her words, Seong-hyeok’s eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost, and he spoke firmly.
“No. You can’t.”
Spicy, heavily seasoned tteokbokki was hardly appropriate food for someone with a compromised immune system.
“Then, discharge? I want to be discharged.”
This time Seo Jin-ha spoke to Seong-hyeok almost pleadingly.
She rarely asked about future treatment processes or side effects and efficacy. Seong-hyeok newly realized her lack of interest in treatment, but he spoke firmly.
“That’s not possible either. Now is not the time for discharge.”
For Seo Jin-ha right now, discharge would be nothing short of suicide. Like walking into the sea carrying a single matchstick.
And she certainly didn’t fail to understand this. The problem was that Seo Jin-ha had almost no hope in the treatment itself.
Having already tidied up what remained of her life, she said she wanted to do what she pleased and then die.
“I’m not going to live long anyway. There’s no need for you to strain yourself because of me. I just want to go home and live normally, then die. Eat tteokbokki, take walks with my dog, things like that.”
“What kind of talk is that? The probability isn’t zero, so we have to do everything we can.”
Seong-hyeok ground his teeth. He was displeased with her resigned demeanor. And he was no better, watching such a patient.
“You haven’t tried anything yet. We’re just beginning, so brace yourself.”
Seo Jin-ha’s eyes glistened, and her long lashes grew damp with tears, clumping strand by strand. As a result, her already large eyes became even more vivid.
“What… what else can be done? Is there a way?”
“I’ll figure that out, so you, patient Seo Jin-ha, just focus on treatment. And from now on, don’t even mention discharge again.”
Seong-hyeok regretted that last part right after saying it, but it was too late.
Since things had gone this far, Seong-hyeok added one more thing.
“I haven’t given up on you, Seo Jin-ha.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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