Zhaxi continued to write: I suddenly understood something. Being a doctor is not the same as being a repairman. A repairman only needs to fix the broken component, and once it’s fixed, the job is done. But a doctor cannot be like that. A doctor needs to treat the patient as a person. A person’s illness is not something developed overnight; it is a result of their lifestyle accumulated over the past few years, ten years, or decades. If you don’t change their lifestyle, the disease will come back even after treatment.

He paused his pen at the end and then added a sentence:

"What I need to learn is not just surgery, but how to help people live well."

After finishing, he closed the notebook and placed it beside the pillow.

A week later, the patient’s fecal test showed the Clostridium difficile toxin had turned negative.

Before the patient left, he specifically went to Yang Ping’s office to say goodbye. He wore a set of new clothes and had his hair cut, appearing much more spirited.

"Professor Yang, thank you." He extended his hand and shook firmly, "I remembered what you said. Being good to yourself is not selfish; it is being responsible to everyone. After going back, I’ve delegated work at the company. From now on, I’ll have meals on time, sleep on time, and have check-ups on time."

Yang Ping nodded and smiled: "Remember, your body is not just yours; it belongs to your family, your employees, and everyone who cares about you. If you fall, what will they do?"

The patient nodded, his eyes slightly red.

He turned his head to Zhaxi: "Doctor Zhaxi, thank you too. The questions you asked me that day made me think a lot. I had never thought before why I got this illness. Now I understand, I brought it upon myself."

Zhaxi scratched his head awkwardly: "It’s not that you brought it upon yourself; you were just working too hard."

After the patient left, Zhaxi stood in the corridor, watching his silhouette disappear at the elevator entrance.

Yang Ping came out of the office with a printed paper in his hand.

"The fourth draft is revised, take a look." He handed the paper to Zhaxi.

Zhaxi took it and flipped through, finding a few more red circles on it.

"Here, you said ’the patient continues to take oral vancomycin after discharge’. You mentioned the dosage but didn’t write the duration. You need to specify how long to take it, how to taper the dose, and when to have the follow-up."

Zhaxi nodded.

"Also here, you mentioned ’follow up for three months’. What are you following up on? The aneurysm, or the intestinal infection? Write it clearly."

Zhaxi nodded again.

Yang Ping glanced at him: "What’s wrong? You seem distracted."

Zhaxi hesitated for a moment and said: "Professor Yang, I was thinking about that patient."

Yang Ping leaned against the door frame: "Thinking about what?"

Zhaxi said: "Thinking about what you said. Being good to yourself is not selfish; it’s being responsible to everyone. I believe those words are not just meant for him, but also for us doctors."

Yang Ping looked at him without speaking.

Zhaxi continued: "As doctors, we often forget to be good to ourselves. Staying up late, working overtime, skipping meals, thinking we can endure it. But if I collapse, what happens?"

Yang Ping nodded:

"You’ve come to realize, but stop thinking too much. First, revise the paper well and practice your surgical skills. Being good to yourself is not just words; it’s shown through actions."

After he finished speaking, he turned and went back into the office.

Zhaxi stood in the corridor, clutching the paper. He suddenly felt that coming to Sanbo, he learned not just surgery, not just diagnostics, not just how to write papers.

What he learned was a way of living.