Surgery Godfather-Chapter 2002 - 1354: Read It Again Tomorrow, and the Day After Tomorrow_2
Chen Houming was silent for a long time.
Then he said something: "I’ve worked for thirty years, but I’m not as good as you in three."
---
Two days later, the patient woke up.
When Xu Zhiliang went on his rounds, she was leaning against the headboard, drinking porridge. Seeing him come in, she put down the spoon and tried to pull out a smile.
"Director Xu," her voice was still weak, "they said it was you who performed the surgery on me."
Xu Zhiliang nodded.
"How do you feel?"
"Not bad," she said, "my left hand and foot seem better than before the surgery."
Xu Zhiliang asked her to lift her hand and foot. The grip of her left hand was much stronger than before, and the muscle strength in her left foot had also recovered.
"You’re recovering well," he said, "stay for a few more days, if everything is fine, you can be discharged."
She nodded, then called him back.
"Director Xu."
Xu Zhiliang stopped.
She looked at him, her eyes a bit red.
"Thank you."
Xu Zhiliang was taken aback.
"I’ve been sick for three years," she said, "I went to many places, and they all said it couldn’t be done. Later, someone said to go to Sanbo and find Professor Yang Ping; he can do it. I tried booking for a long time, but couldn’t get an appointment. Later, Director Chen said, no need to book with Professor Yang, his department has a new director who is Professor Yang Ping’s student and can do it."
She paused.
"At that time, I didn’t believe it. How capable can a student be? Later, Director Chen showed me a photo of a patient and said that was done by you. That person had the same condition as me, and it’s been a year after surgery, and they’re fine."
She looked at Xu Zhiliang, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Director Xu, you’re so young, how old are you this year?"
Xu Zhiliang thought for a moment.
"Thirty-four."
She nodded.
"Thirty-four, and already this skilled. What will become of it in the future?"
Xu Zhiliang didn’t know what to say.
"Take good care of yourself," he said, "if you have any issues, feel free to reach out to us."
He turned and walked out of the ward.
In the corridor, sunlight streamed through the window, casting a bright shadow on the ground. He stood in that light, standing for a while.
Thirty-four years old.
Studied neurosurgery for three years.
Performed over three hundred brainstem surgeries.
All came off the operating table alive, with over two hundred seventy able to live normally.
This number, he never thought was particularly special before.
Now he remembered, unknowingly, he had already reached the peak.
These patients could have never made it.
But now they’re still around.
He stood there, for a long time.
---
Afternoon, in front of Xu Zhiliang’s office door.
A young doctor, looking around twenty-five or six, was wearing a white gown, with "Zhao Xiaofeng, Resident Physician" written on his badge. Standing at the door, holding a case in his hand, his hands trembling slightly.
"Director Xu," his voice drifting, "can I ask you a question?"
Xu Zhiliang looked at him.
"Come in."
Zhao Xiaofeng walked in, standing in front of the desk, not daring to sit.
Xu Zhiliang pointed to a chair: "Sit."
Zhao Xiaofeng sat down, laying out the case.
"This patient," he pointed at the CT scan, "has a diffuse brainstem glioma. The department has discussed it three times, all saying it can’t be done. I... I just want to ask you, is there a possibility?"
Xu Zhiliang took the scan, looking at it against the light.
It was indeed diffuse, with unclear boundaries, a wide infiltration area, mixed with normal tissue. No one in the world dares to touch such a tumor.
He looked for a long time.
Then he put the scan down.
"You want to do it?"
Zhao Xiaofeng was startled.
"I—I can’t do it, I just wanted to ask..."
"Want to... save him?"
Zhao Xiaofeng was silent for a few seconds.
"I do, that’s why I wanted to ask you," he said.
Xu Zhiliang looked at him.
"What’s your name?"
"Zhao Xiaofeng."
"Been in Neurosurgery... how many years?"
"Three years."
"Tell the patient and the family, surgery is possible," Xu Zhiliang said, "and you’ll be the first assistant."
Zhao Xiaofeng was stunned.
"Director Xu, are you saying... you’re going to do it?"
Xu Zhiliang did not answer. He took out the seventh notebook from the drawer, opened it to a certain page, and pushed it in front of Zhao Xiaofeng.
"See for yourself."
Zhao Xiaofeng looked down.
The page had a diagram of the surgical approach for brainstem glioma, with dense writing beside it. Every blood vessel’s path, every nerve’s location, every potential risk was clearly marked.
Xu Zhiliang had already mastered many of Professor Yang Ping’s brainstem safe surgical approaches, the prerequisite for successful surgery.
Zhao Xiaofeng looked for a long time.
Then he looked up.
"Director Xu," he said, "I want to learn from you."
Xu Zhiliang looked at him.
"Do you have a habit of keeping notes?"
Zhao Xiaofeng was taken aback, then nodded vigorously.
"I do."
Xu Zhiliang took out a blank notebook from the drawer and tossed it to him.
"From now on every day, be at the department at six-thirty sharp, by seven when I arrive, I hope to see your notes on the previous day’s cases and surgeries. Try to communicate with me via WeChat for any issues, I... don’t like talking."
Zhao Xiaofeng caught the notebook with both hands, as if catching a treasure.
"Okay, thank you, Director Xu!" He stood up, bowed, and ran out.
Xu Zhiliang watched his back, suddenly remembering how he looked three years ago when he first entered the operating room with Yang Ping.
That day he was the same, nervous, excited, yet afraid of making mistakes.
Yang Ping hadn’t said much to him from start to finish. He just tossed him a blank notebook after the surgery.
"Take notes, every case and every surgery we must treat with a research attitude," Yang Ping said.
Now he understood.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, people were strolling and chatting. In the distance, the institute’s building stood quietly, Yang Ping’s office was on the fifth floor.
He remembered Yang Ping’s words: "You are in that hand."
That hand now needs to be passed on.
He stood by the window, watching for a long time.
Then he turned back and walked to the desk.
On the bookshelf, nineteen notebooks were neatly arranged.
---
Two days later in the operating room.
Zhao Xiaofeng was already dressed in surgical attire, waiting for Xu Zhiliang.
Xu Zhiliang walked in, glanced at him.
"Scrub in."
Zhao Xiaofeng nodded and followed him to the sink.
Xu Zhiliang looked at him in the mirror.
"First time as first assistant?"
"Yes, first time for this kind of surgery."
Xu Zhiliang nodded, saying nothing more.
After scrubbing, they donned the surgical gown and gloves. The two walked to the operating table.
The operating light was turned on.
The patient was already anesthetized, lying there, head fixed in a head clamp. The surgical area was disinfected and draped, exposing only a small patch of scalp.
Xu Zhiliang took a deep breath.
"Let’s begin."
The surgical knife descended.
Cutting open the skin, separating the muscles, opening the bone window. Under the microscope, brain tissue was exposed, grayish-white, soft, gently rising and falling with the breath.
The tumor sat deep in the brainstem, mixed with normal tissue, with indistinct boundaries.
Zhao Xiaofeng sat in the first assistant position, his hands steady, but his breathing slightly hurried. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞
"Suction device, slower," Xu Zhiliang said.
"Can you see clearly?"
Zhao Xiaofeng stared at the microscope, sweat on his forehead.
"I... I see clearly."
"What do you see clearly?"
Zhao Xiaofeng was silent for a few seconds.
"I see the approach clearly."
Xu Zhiliang nodded.
"Right, you need to see my approach clearly; the surgical approach is half the success, and it’s the first half."
Separate, stop bleeding, separate again, stop bleeding again.
Two hours, four hours...
The tumor was slowly excised, and the brainstem gradually restored to its original shape.
The final cut completed.
"Stop the bleeding," Xu Zhiliang said.
The usual procedure, confirming no active bleeding, rinsing with warm saline, closing the cranium.
After the surgery, Xu Zhiliang walked out of the operating room, sitting in the changing room to rest.
Zhao Xiaofeng followed him out, standing next to him. His surgical attire was soaked, and his legs trembled.
"Director Xu," his voice was drifting, "I just... I really saw the approach, it was different from the book, really different."
Xu Zhiliang looked at him.
"Go back and write it down," he said, "what you saw today, write it down. Look again tomorrow, and the day after..."
Zhao Xiaofeng nodded.
He took out the notebook, opened the first page, and began to write.
His hand trembled a bit, but he wrote earnestly.
Xu Zhiliang stood there, watching him write.
