PHUW 5

“You filled a police report, right? This is a problem. We don’t have any available rooms. But we can’t just leave him like this either.”

Then the doctor looked closely at the the student’s clothes.

A college student (presumably) dressed in expensive brands would have parents in their prime. Parents who wouldn’t hesitate to pay hospital bills for their precious son. In fact, if the treatment wasn’t adequate, they’d likely throw a fit and accuse the hospital of neglecting their child. That kind of thing was the last thing a busy ER doctor wanted to deal with.

“Let’s wait until the police arrive. You can hand the patient over then.”

The doctor gave that vague instruction to Jeong Mok, who was still listed as the guarantor, then turned away to handle the next wave of incoming patients.

The student’s bed had been placed in the hallway. It wasn’t unusual, other patients who couldn’t yet be admitted were in similar situations. No one paid attention. Like any other guardian, Jeong Mok pulled over a folding chair and sat beside the bed. Then he checked the time and called his cousin Choi Jieon. Since she owned the building, she needed to be updated.

–Oh my god! What happened?

Jieon was, as expected, shocked when she heard the news.

“Exactly.”

–So? Is it serious?

“They did a CT. No brain hemorrhage for now. No surgery needed either. Once he’s fully conscious, I’ll ask him to call his parents and we’ll work out compensation. Through insurance, or if it’s not covered, I’ll pay for it myself.”

–Why are you worrying about money? You know how much money our family has. But is he going to wake up soon?

“No idea. He’s muttering like he’s dreaming. The doctor said he can go home once the IV’s done. I just hope he’s fully conscious by then.”

–Should I come over?

“What for? It’s far. And he might not even be here by the time you arrive. The detective is supposed to show up later. I’ll call you again after that.”

–Okay. By the way, what about dinner?

“The cafeteria in the hospital’s basement is decent. I’ll eat there.”

–Alright. Make sure you eat properly. I can’t believe this happened. You already hate hospitals because of Song-i…

“Huh.”

Jeong Mok smiled vaguely.

–That’s the scary thing about accidents. Who would’ve thought Song-i would go like that, when she was so healthy…

Just as the conversation drifted to a topic he didn’t want, he heard movement nearby. Jieon ended the call, saying they’d talk again later.

His appetite vanished. Jeong Mok leaned back. The cold wall pressed against the back of his head. Even with dawn breaking and morning creeping in, the hospital hallway remained gloomy.

“Ugh…”

He heard a faint groan. The student moved. Jeong Mok thought it was just sleep-talking and ignored it. But this time, it was different.

“…Where am I?”

The words were quite clear. He turned his head. The student, head turned toward Jeong Mok, was lightly tugging at the IV line in his arm.

***

The very first thing he remembered was the noise that disturbed his sleep. Then the sting of a needle in his arm. And after that, a headache so unbearable he felt sick just recalling it. He blinked slowly through blurry vision and tried to sit up. That’s when a hand touched his shoulder.

“You have a bad head injury. Don’t move yet.”

He lay back down, feeling the gentle yet firm pressing on him.

“You’re in the emergency room.”

Emergency room. Only then did he realize what all the noise around him was. The shouts of patients and guardians in a hurry clanged like iron stakes driving into his skull. A groan slipped from his lips.

It hurts. It hurts much.

He wanted to pass out again. But with his head still exploding, sleep wouldn’t come easily.

He groaned. Someone held his hand. It was the largest, roughest, yet warmest hand he’d ever felt.

“Just wait a moment. The doctor will ve here soon.”

His low, gravelly voice was full of concern.

His dad? An older brother? A friend?

He didn’t know. But he has someone by his side. Someone he could lean on.

His eyes suddenly stung. His tightly shut eyelids trembled, and a warm tear slid down his temple. He slowly curled his weak fingers.

As promised, the doctor soon arrived. Asked if he was conscious. He barely lifted his eyelids. A nurse in sky-blue scrubs stood next to the doctor in the white coat. After the doctor moved on to another patient, the nurse wrote something on a clipboard and asked,

“What’s your name?”

He expected the man holding his hand to answer. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at him.

“What’s your name?”

Name?

He blinked slowly. In his blurry vision, he could make out a large figure. Not like the pale blue and white of the medical staff. He was dark. And he was as big as a giant.

He opened his mouth.

The man leaned in closer, as if waking a sleeping princess, he tilted his head to bring his ear near.

“What?”

The low voice was full of confusion.

“Patient’s name!”

The busy nurse shouted. With the last of his strength, he managed to speak.

“I… don’t… remember…”

A strange vacuum-like silence enveloped the surrounding. The ambient noise faded, then surged back like a crashing wave. The effort it took to speak left him drained. He lost consciousness again.

When he regained consciousness, everything was quiet. His entire body was so weak that he could barely lift his eyelids.

A nurse in a white protective suit and blue cap approached. She explained that while he had seemed fine at first, a subdural hemorrhage¹ had developed as feared. Fortunately, since he was already in the ER, they were able to operate right away. He was now in the ICU. She held up a finger, asking him to follow it. She asked if he could hear her. Since he was young and the surgery had gone well and he’d regained consciousness quickly, they would be moving him to a regular room soon.

By the next day, he was moved to a general room. With the nurse’s help, he was transferred to a single room bed. For a moment, he was left alone. He needed to pee, but with no one nearby, he reached for the nurse call button. That’s when he noticed the hospital bracelet on his wrist.

It had the admission date and diagnosis, and of course, it should have had his name, age, and gender. It did. But what it said was: “Unnamed male / Male / Estimated early 20s.”

Unnamed male. Gender: male. Age: early twenties. Which meant he was labeled as nothing more than a young man.

He wondered. Didn’t he have a guardian? An adult male, probably in his thirties. That man would’ve known his name. Something wasn’t right.

He pressed the call button. A nurse arrived shortly after. He forgot about peeing and just held out his arm. The nurse smiled awkwardly.

“You didn’t tell us your name. Do you remember it now?”

“What?”

“Your name. Or a phone number, a family member, someone we can contact?”

“My name? My name is… what was it? What’s my name?”

He was flustered. He froze, mouth open. In that moment, the headache vanished.

The nurse calmly explained that temporary memory loss was common after a brain injury. She told him the doctor would explain in more detail during rounds and reassured him not to move and just rest.

Apparently, the catheter was still in. A sign reading “Strict Bed Rest” hung at the foot of the bed. After checking his IV and dimming the lights, the nurse walked out. Watching her go, he suddenly wondered where was the guardian from the ER?

That evening, the doctor appeared during rounds. He explained things at length, using technical terms. But most of it matched what the nurses had already said.

He’d suffered brain damage and internal bleeding. Surgery had been performed. Recovery was going well. The memory loss was likely temporary. With rest, it should return within a week. Eat well, sleep well, rest well.

The only new detail was the estimated timeline, ‘one week.’

His recovery really was fast. By the second day, the IV was removed and replaced with injections. The head bandage was swapped out for a smaller one. During dressing, the doctor gave him two large hand mirrors. He held them up to show the wound. On the back right of his head, there was a bald patch the size of a pancake. A stitched line ran across the pale scalp. The doctor applied a thick disinfectant, covered it with gauze, and wrapped it in a fresh bandage.

Afterward, the doctor said he could be discharged the next day.

“Tomorrow?”

The doctor said if the attending physician approved, he could leave today. The nurse would explain payment and the follow-up appointment.

Payment.

He was again struck with confusion. He didn’t even know his name. How could he possibly have money? The clothes he’d received had no phone. How was he supposed to pay or leave?

That’s when he noticed the room again. A private room. At a university hospital. No way he could afford this. Not the surgery, not even the bandages. All of it must be debt. The thought overwhelmed him.

If he didn’t leave, the bills would pile up. If he wanted to leave, he had no money to pay. Even if he somehow got out, he had nowhere to go. No place to sleep. Nothing to eat. No one to call. No phone.

What was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t even pull at his hair in frustration. All he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling.

Knock knock.

The person who came in was an unfamiliar man who looked nothing like the medical staff.

1. A subdural hematoma is a type of bleeding in which a collection of blood—usually but not always associated with a traumatic brain injury—gathers between the inner layer of the dura mater and the arachnoid mater of the meninges surrounding the brain. ↩︎