Chapter 82: Proof of Genius (II)

[It is Loeys-Dietz Syndrome.]

‘Yes. Perhaps…it seems almost certain.’

Despite correctly diagnosing the condition, Suhyuk’s face did not brighten. In fact, it appeared even darker than before.

‘Loeys-Dietz Syndrome…’

Loeys-Dietz Syndrome was both unfamiliar and difficult to pronounce. Most doctors likely wouldn’t be aware of this disease, as it wasn’t typically covered during their medical education due to its extreme rarity.

‘It doesn’t have a favorable prognosis.’

On the contrary, the severity of the illness was immense.

Among congenital disorders that weaken connective tissue, Marfan Syndrome is relatively well-known; however, Durant-Lois Syndrome has a much poorer prognosis. The average life expectancy for patients with this condition was estimated to be just 26 years.

“Where’s the patient?”

During this time, chaos erupted in the emergency room as if thoracic surgeons had arrived from upstairs. Suhyuk turned around and spotted several doctors with their lab coats unbuttoned, confirming his suspicion.

Typically, internal medicine specialists not only kept their lab coats buttoned but also wore ties. In contrast, thoracic surgeons stood out distinctly among hospital staff due to their casual attire.

“Oh, Dr. Thoracic Surgery.” Recognizing one of them, Suhyuk bowed courteously.

He recognized Suhyuk from the angiography procedure with Lee Hyunjong. It was not surprising as Suhyuk had published a research paper about the patient they treated that day in the New England Journal of Medicine (NEJM).

“Y…yes.”

Honestly, it seemed unlikely for this doctor to have written a similar paper even if he had seen the same patient. Nonetheless, there appeared to be some lingering resentment towards Suhyuk, which might explain his somewhat hostile gaze.

“You suspect an aortic dissection?”

Moreover, his tone lacked any warmth and instead carried a sharp edge.

“He seems jealous of you,” Baruda analyzed the doctor’s demeanor nonchalantly, as if used to such behavior.

Suhyuk remained unfazed.

Why do humans act like this?

It was true for Internal Medicine and other departments as well. There were always people who disliked him due to jealousy. Of course, no one openly criticized Suhyuk because of his strong connections and exceptional skills. However, many subtly tried to provoke him.

“Yes, I suspect something.” In response, Suhyuk leaned on one leg, sounding slightly annoyed.

Although there was a difference in rank between them - he being a fellow while Suhyuk was still a resident - they were both considered ‘uncles’ from different departments. The unspoken rule was mutual respect, but Suhyuk wasn’t going to be taken advantage of by someone breaking this norm first.

“What specifically makes you suspicious?”

“I observed dilation at the root of the aorta during the echocardiogram.”

“Through transesophageal imaging?”

“No, just through standard chest view.”

The thoracic surgery fellow smiled at Suhyuk’s response. It wouldn’t have much impact on him anyway, but Suhyuk was satisfied with delivering this small rebuke.

I can’t confront Lee Hyunjong directly, right?

Ideally, he wanted to pick a fight with Director Lee Hyunjong himself. However, challenging the head of thoracic surgery felt like biting off more than he could chew. Thus, he had no choice but to target the relatively easier opponent, Suhyuk.

“To accurately diagnose an aortic dissection, we need an esophagogastroduodenoscopy (EGD), don’t you know that, Dr. Lee Suhyuk? You’re already in your second year as a resident, so why didn’t you consult with the cardiology fellows first before calling us?”

“I am aware that EGD is necessary for accurate diagnosis. However, when there are clear clinical symptoms indicating an aortic dissection and evident dilation seen on echocardiography, isn’t it standard protocol to proceed quickly with a CT scan and then move straight to surgery?”

I expected him to be flustered by my outburst, but Lee Suhyuk’s response was not so simple. Honestly, most second-year residents would have backed down after receiving such harsh criticism. However, this guy didn’t bat an eye as he continued to answer me. What made it even more frustrating for the thoracic surgery fellow was that there were no flaws in Suhyuk’s argument. It was indeed standard practice to proceed with surgery promptly when the diagnosis was clear.

‘Damn.’

Unlike before, the fellow now had two residents accompanying him. Backing down here would severely damage his reputation.

‘Did I provoke him unnecessarily? They say he’s a genius… But this bastard…’ Part of me already regretted escalating the situation, but I decided to raise my voice once more.

“Principle? Yes, it is true. But how accurate can a second-year resident’s eyes be to have such confidence? Shouldn’t we consider other possibilities since the patient is only 18 years old?”

Compared to before, his argument now sounded more forced. Honestly, it felt almost like he was throwing a tantrum.

Among the residents accompanying him, one who had interned with Lee Suhyuk already turned away in embarrassment.

‘How embarrassing… Dr. Belzer…’

The rumor of Lee Suhyuk being a genius wasn’t confined just within Internal Medicine; it had spread even to other hospitals. It didn’t matter whether it was thoracic surgery or any other department—the news reached every corner of the medical community. In fact, there were stories circulating about each professor’s reactions to Lee Suhyuk, including Lee Hyunjong’s deep sighs of regret.

[Why did heaven create a greater genius than me and injure his leg?]

It was a sort of poem lamenting that just as someone worthy to inherit everything had appeared, he couldn’t continue in cardiology due to his injured leg. While it might not be considered a proper poem by heavenly standards, its meaning was clear enough.

‘Nowadays, during Professor Lee Hyunjong’s shifts, almost all echocardiograms are reviewed by Suhyuk… There is no chance for misinterpretation.’

As one of the residents behind him lost their determination, Lee Suhyuk, with a relaxed smile, slightly turned his body. This allowed the thoracic surgeons to observe the patient’s appearance. First, they noticed the unusually wide distance between the eyes, immediately striking them as abnormal. It wasn’t merely a distinctive facial feature but required medical interpretation.

“The patient has hyperelorism, which is also known as hypertelorism or wide-set eyes, and a bifid uvula. Based on these observations along with the echocardiogram showing dilated roots, I suspect one particular syndrome. Aortic dissection is very common in this syndrome, often being the most frequent cause of death. Isn’t it clear now?”

Suhyuk deliberately mentioned only the characteristics of the disease without revealing its name. His expression seemed to convey ‘Isn’t this obvious?’

Naturally, the two residents accompanying him appeared completely clueless about what he was implying.

“Do you know?”

“No.”

“Indeed, a genius…”

“So…” Their conversation revolved around such exchanges.

This indicated that not only had the residents lost their motivation, but even the fellow shared similar sentiments.

‘Think…think harder!’

For some time now, I had been continuously sending text messages to my brain, but the response remained constant:

‘I don’t know… It’s not coming back even though it feels like wasting time…’

However, ignoring this situation wasn’t an option since Lee Suhyuk seemed to be aware of everything happening before him.

‘What should I do?’

After pondering for a while, I decided to say something, anything.

“T-That… Th-that…”

“That thing? Please state its exact name.”

“D-Do you think I don’t know its name?”

“No, I’m just confused because I might have mispronounced it. Could you please tell me how it is correctly pronounced?”

“Um.”

Suhyuk was pushing his opponent further into a tight spot.

[Wow… You’re doing well now, aren’t you?]

‘It’s all thanks to you.’

Recalling Baruda’s nagging, Suhyuk’s expression hardened as he glared at the fellow.

The fellow’s face was red, and Suhyuk worried that if he continued like this, something might explode.

[Shouldn’t we stop pushing him now? Otherwise, there will be a permanent rift with thoracic surgery. According to rumors, it is highly likely that this fellow will become a clinical instructor.]

‘Really? Then… I’ll keep seeing his face?’

[Yes. If you become a professor here, as you often mention…]

‘Is that not possible?’

[I am currently almost 100% certain of it.]

‘But why say it like that? Anyway, let’s release the pressure.’

[Agreed. Suhyuk, that would be best.]

Having reached this conclusion, Lee Suhyuk once again glanced at the fellow. The fellow continued whining like an anxious puppy, constantly gauging Suhyuk’s reactions, seemingly ready to tuck his tail between his legs.

‘Disgusting…’

‘Why did he charge at me…?’

The expressions on the residents’ faces were clear enough without any further analysis. Suhyuk promptly opened his mouth:

“Durant Lois Syndrome. Is this correct?”

Upon hearing these words, the fellow inadvertently sighed. The name mentioned by Suhyuk was completely different from what he had initially considered, and on another note, it reminded him of something he had heard before from a professor.

“Oh, yes…that’s right.”

He let out several more sighs of relief and nodded.

“So we need to immediately perform a chest CT scan and proceed to the operating room, correct?”

“Uh…yes.”

“Yes, thank you. If you perform the surgery, we will continue our cooperation regarding Durant Lois Syndrome.”

“Yes…”

The fellow’s shoulders slumped as he approached the patient. After confirming the ultrasound images taken by Suhyuk, he hurriedly rushed to the CT room. For Suhyuk, it was just another day at work, but regardless of one’s perspective, doctors were still doctors. It seemed that the fellow had no intention of wasting time when a life hung in the balance right before his eyes.

“You don’t need advice on the surgery itself, do you?” Baruda muttered while watching the thoracic surgery fellow hastily disappear.

Suhyuk thought about giving Baruda a gentle tap on the back if possible and responded:

‘He isn’t performing the surgery; Professor Shin will handle it. Don’t you know? Our hospital’s thoracic surgery department…is world-class.’

“True enough. Lee Hyunjong practically trained them all.”

Lee Hyunjong’s aggressive surgical procedures saved many patients; however, it also led to numerous complications. The thoracic surgery department of Taehwa Hospital had been cleaning up after him, allowing his skills to reach a worldwide level. Despite this, all the fame went to Lee Hyunjong, which could understandably cause resentment.

“Senior…you are truly amazing. What is Durant Lois Syndrome?”

As they continued their conversation, Hayoon, who had remained silent like a sack of rice, finally opened her mouth. When Suhyuk looked back at her, he saw admiration shining in her eyes.

‘Does she have a crush on me?’

Suhyuk thought so based on her expression, but…

[Should I curse for the first time in a while?]

It wasn’t directed at Suhyuk.

‘No, don’t do it.’

[I will. I feel like cursing.]

‘If you’re going to do it anyway, why ask?’

[Just consider it courtesy towards Suhyuk, the sole input-output channel.]

‘If you want to show courtesy, be more clear…’

[Are you insane, human?]