Surgery Godfather-Chapter 1999 - 1354: Establishing Independence
In the corridor of the Cardiac Surgery Department at Sanbo Hospital, Zhou Zheng ran through the nurse’s station, clutching a stack of freshly printed examination reports. The hem of his white gown fluttered in the wind, revealing the collar of his shirt soaked with sweat.
"Mr. Xia!" he pushed open the door to the doctor’s office, "The results of the post-operative review are out, please take a look—"
He stopped mid-sentence, stunned.
There was more than just Xia Shu in the office.
Li Zehui was sitting on the sofa, holding a medical record. Xia Shu was sitting beside him, opposite Professor Yang.
Hearing the commotion, Yang Ping turned his head and glanced at Zhou Zheng.
The report in Zhou Zheng’s hand almost fell to the ground.
"Professor Yang..." his voice faltered, "Director Li..."
Yang Ping nodded but didn’t speak.
Li Zehui raised his hand, gesturing for him to bring over the report.
Zhou Zheng mechanically walked over, handed over the report, then stepped aside, standing straight.
His heartbeat was intense. This was Yang Ping, a two-time Nobel Prize laureate, a legendary figure in international medicine, his mentor Li Zehui’s teacher, and in terms of seniority, his grand-mentor. He had only seen him from a distance at lectures, and now he was standing face to face, no more than three meters away.
Xia Shu took the report, quickly perusing it. His gaze lingered on several sets of data for a few seconds before looking up.
"Troponin is normal, BNP dropped below 200, the cardiac ultrasound shows left ventricular ejection fraction increased from pre-operative 38% to 45%," he said, "recovering faster than expected."
Li Zehui nodded, putting down the medical record in his hand.
He said to Yang Ping, "That patient I mentioned to you, the one Cleveland dared not to operate."
Yang Ping walked over, took the report, and had a look. His gaze paused on the line "history of two previous thoracic surgeries," then he looked at Xia Shu.
"You were the chief surgeon?"
Xia Shu nodded.
Yang Ping asked no more questions. He returned the report to Xia Shu.
Li Zehui said to Xia Shu, "You’ll be the chief surgeon for tomorrow’s heart transplant too."
The office was quiet for a second.
Zhou Zheng’s mouth gaped open.
Heart transplant? Mr. Xia as the chief surgeon?
He unconsciously glanced at Xia Shu, then at Li Zehui, and finally, his gaze fell on Yang Ping. Yang Ping showed no expression, simply picked up his teacup and took a sip.
Zhou Zheng’s mind was buzzing. He was only in his thirties; at other hospitals, young doctors his age were still pulling retractors and stitching skin—how could he possibly be the chief surgeon for a heart transplant of this magnitude? Anzhen wouldn’t allow it, Fuwai wouldn’t allow it, but Sanbo would?
Li Zehui continued, "The donor has been matched. The recipient is in the terminal stage of dilated cardiomyopathy, heart function class IV, waiting for eleven months. The match is suitable, with a six-hour window of opportunity."
He paused, "Any issues?"
Xia Shu remained silent for a few seconds.
"No."
He knew he would have to step out from under Yang Ping’s wings in the future, starting to independently oversee all surgeries.
Yang Ping put down his teacup and stood up.
"Perform as usual, you’ll get used to it gradually," he said, "I have other matters to attend to, I’ll leave first."
He walked to the door, suddenly stopped, turned back, and glanced at Xia Shu.
"Keep taking notes, continue debriefing."
The door closed.
Only then did Zhou Zheng dare to breathe.
"Mr. Xia..." His voice was still quivering, "Was that Professor Yang?"
Xia Shu thought Zhou Zheng’s expression was peculiar: "Is this your first time seeing him?"
Zhou Zheng shook his head, "First time at such close range, I’ve seen him on the lecture stage before, or occasionally on the road. But I never thought I could stand in front of him, this close."
Xia Shu looked at him and suddenly remembered his own past.
Once he had seen Yang Ping, also in an academic lecture hall. Yang Ping had finished his lecture and come down from the stage, Xia Shu caught up to stop him in the corridor to ask questions, only for Yang Ping to say, "Ask once you’ve thought it through," and then he turned and left.
He probably felt the same way then. Excited, anxious, with a slight sense of being ignored.
"You’ll see him more often in the future," Xia Shu said, "He frequently returns to the Cardiac Surgery Department."
Zhou Zheng nodded, still glancing towards the door.
Xia Shu stood up.
"Prepare for tomorrow’s surgery."
---
The next morning at six, Xia Shu arrived at the hospital.
The surgery was scheduled for nine in the morning. The donor heart was being sent from the neighboring province, taking three and a half hours on the way. He had the morning to prepare.
He first went to see the patient.
The patient’s surname was Chen, fifty-seven years old, at the terminal stage of dilated cardiomyopathy, bedridden for eleven months. Emaciated to just a skeleton, complexion gray and white, lips purplish, but the eyes were bright.
Seeing Xia Shu enter, he tried hard to smile.
"Dr. Xia," his voice was very soft, as light as leaves rustling in the wind, "Please...today."
Xia Shu sat by his bedside.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"Not bad," the patient said.
"Did you dream?"
The patient thought for a moment, "I dreamed of my daughter. She’s taking the College Entrance Examination this year, and I haven’t seen her enter University yet."
Xia Shu remained silent for a few seconds.
"You will see it," he said.
The patient looked at him, eyes full of hope.
Xia Shu chatted with the patient for a while before coming out.
In the corridor, Zhou Zheng was already waiting.
"Mr. Xia, the donor will arrive in two hours. The Extracorporeal Circulation team is in place, the Anesthesiologist is verifying the medications, and the ICU has freed up a bed."
Xia Shu nodded and continued walking forward.
Zhou Zheng followed him, speaking softly as they walked, "Mr. Xia, I just saw the materials sent from the donor’s side. The donor was twenty-two, male, a university student, car accident..."
He paused.
"When his parents signed the consent forms, they cried uncontrollably. But they said, letting their child’s heart continue to beat means he’s still living in the world."
