Chapter 177: A Surgeon’s Ascent

Alright, the bleeding has stopped. For the vascular repair and anastomosis to follow, if you entrust it to me, I’ll do my utmost to get it right.

Zhou Can seized the remaining surgical tasks.

He tackled each procedure one after another.

Dr. Long’s trust in him had reached a remarkable level.

He grabbed every chance to gain more surgical experience—both to build his skills and to refresh techniques he hadn’t used in ages.

In his three months in the Critical Care Department, he had managed to participate in only a measly two or three surgeries.

Going too long without operating could easily make one rusty.

“Give it a try!”

Dr. Long, not willing to lose face, eventually agreed to let him have a go.

Even though Zhou Can had already shone brilliantly, when he asked to perform the vascular anastomosis again, Dr. Long remained very cautious.

Zhou Can treasured this hard-won opportunity.

He knew that if he succeeded, it would be his breakthrough—opening doors in Cardiothoracic Surgery without having to worry about missing out on chances to advance.

Standing beside him, Dr. Long watched nervously as he repaired the ruptured vessel.

From initial apprehension to eventual relief.

Dr. Long once again recognized Zhou Can’s formidable skill.

Such a high level of anastomosis was impressive—so much so that even a Chief Resident would feel outclassed.

At this point, Dr. Long had stopped fretting over his performance and began daydreaming, silently speculating about his true identity.

A trainee surnamed Zhou, exceptionally talented—apparently, the only one of his kind in all of Tuyu Hospital.

Could he be the famed Zhou Can known across several key departments?

The more Dr. Long thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

His formidable reputation was well-earned; this young man’s abilities were truly extraordinary. No wonder he was compared to the overseas-educated Dr. Du Leng.

Dr. Long silently weighed the two against each other.

Dr. Du Leng was highly regarded in Surgery, with the chief doctors treating him with considerable deference—mainly due to his overseas doctoral credentials.

Yet in the surgical arena, Du Leng’s performance did not quite measure up.

Dr. Long had seen Du Leng’s skills firsthand; even with full backing from the Surgical Department for nearly a year, his abilities barely reached a junior resident’s level.

In comparison, Zhou Can’s surgical prowess was on a completely different level.

The gap between them was stark.

“The vascular anastomosis is complete. Dr. Long, please check my work! If it looks good, I’ll release the tied vessel end to test the blood flow.”

Zhou Can made sure to show Dr. Long the proper respect.

After his earlier intervention, he knew Dr. Long’s pride had taken a hit.

Now that the vascular repair—the most critical part of the surgery—was done, deliberately asking Dr. Long to inspect it was a clear signal: he was just a trainee and Dr. Long was his superior.

It was a mark of respect.

“Hmm! The anastomosis looks excellent. But if you had left the suture tail a bit longer, it would be even better. My main worry is that an unstable knot might, under tension from reflow, cause the stitches to come undone.”

Dr. Long offered a brief critique.

He managed to pick a flaw out of nothing.

Humbly, Zhou Can accepted the feedback, promising to leave the suture tails longer next time.

Though he agreed out loud, in his heart he would stick to his own method—unyielding in his convictions.

After all, he believed his approach of cutting the suture tails short was just right.

Dr. Long’s suturing skills never matched his own; not yet at the Associate Chief level, he simply didn’t grasp the art of doing it just right.

In theory, leaving longer suture tails should help keep knots secure.

In practice, the length of the suture tails had little impact on their stability.

As long as the knots were tied firmly, even a close trim wouldn’t matter.

However, leaving the tails too long could irritate surrounding tissue, leading to inflammation-like symptoms.

“Release the vascular ties and check the blood flow!”

Dr. Long instructed Zhou Can to remove the vascular ties.

Since he had used slip knots, they were very easy to remove.

Once removed, blood surged into the repaired vessel; the once-shrunken vessel quickly filled up.

It was essential to expel any air and residual blood from the vessel ends to prevent thrombosis.

This was a common mistake among novice doctors.

After the blood flow test, it was clear the vascular anastomosis was superb—blood perfusion remained virtually unaffected.

“Excellent! Check once more, and if there are no other bleeding points, you can reattach the rib and then close the chest.”

This type of open-chest surgery was considered relatively minor.

It caused significantly less trauma to the patient.

To reattach a severed rib, a bone fixation technique from Orthopedics was required.

Coincidentally, Zhou Can had spent three months in Orthopedics, assisting Chief Resident Shen and Dr. Shan in numerous surgeries.

He was fully capable of handling rib fixation.

“Uh, about the rib fixation and closing the chest—can I do it too?” Zhou Can eagerly eyed the chance to gain more surgical experience.

While others chased after money, he was passionately dedicated to accumulating medical expertise.

“You can do rib fixation too?”

Dr. Long was momentarily at a loss for words.

What couldn’t this trainee do?

The two assistants stared at Zhou Can in awe, as if he were an otherworldly being.

The scrub nurse smiled sweetly; her initial disdain and sympathy for Zhou Can had transformed into admiration and respect.

Everyone was young, and a capable man naturally commanded admiration from women.

It wasn’t about love—it was simply human nature.

To suggest that a woman admiring a man meant she loved him would be absurd.

“During my three months in Orthopedics, I did pick up some bone fixation techniques. I’m confident I can reattach this rib properly.”

At present, his bone fixation technique was only at a junior resident level.

That may not be advanced, but it was more than sufficient for the rib fixation required now.

However, for more complex fixations—especially those involving joints or the spine—he wasn’t yet up to the task.

“Alright then. Since you’re so confident, it’s all yours.”

Dr. Long was pleased to take it easy.

At the same time, he wanted to probe just how skilled Zhou Can really was.

Typically, these procedures only required internal fixation.

The operation was straightforward and rather rudimentary, with minimal technical demands.

When it came to surgery, Zhou Can was not only skilled but also incredibly swift.

In no time, with fierce, tiger-like efficiency, he fixed the severed rib back into place using steel pins.

If all went well, a bony callus line would appear in about a month.

They say it takes a hundred days for bones and muscles to mend.

Young bodies heal fast; in roughly three months, the rib should mend firmly.

“Not bad. If there are no other issues, let’s go ahead and close the chest.”

Having witnessed Zhou Can’s stellar suturing, Dr. Long entrusted the chest closure to him without hesitation.

……

Nearly forty minutes later, the chest closure was finally complete.

Thanks to Zhou Can’s Associate Chief–level suturing skills and his rapid pace, he finished closing the chest in just forty minutes.

Dr. Long didn’t even feel the need for a recheck.

After all, Zhou Can’s work was even better than his own.

At this stage, the open-chest hemostasis procedure had been successfully completed.

The patient had been rescued from the clutches of death.

With this surgery, Zhou Can pulled off a remarkable turnaround. From a penalized trainee, he earned Dr. Long’s trust and showcased his formidable surgical prowess.

“Great work today, Dr. Zhou! May I ask, are you Dr. Zhou Can?”

After the surgery, Dr. Long finally felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

“Yes, that’s me—I’m Dr. Zhou Can. How did you know?”

Zhou Can never saw himself as someone special.

“Seeing you display such exceptional surgical skill, I had my suspicions. Among the trainees, there’s hardly anyone with abilities like yours. In the beginning, I wondered where such an outstanding young doctor had come from.”

Dr. Long’s remark brought a broad smile to Zhou Can’s face.

The reactions among the others were mixed.

Some were hearing Zhou Can’s name for the first time.

Among the hospital doctors, Dr. Du Leng’s reputation far exceeded Zhou Can’s.

The Surgical Department was now continuously promoting Du Leng, planning to brand him as their marquee surgeon.

Zhou Can’s Bachelor’s degree paled in comparison.

Only the Chief Surgeons and a few well-informed attending physicians truly recognized his outstanding talent.

“Dr. Guan, it seems you were in the know all along. No wonder you’re so confident!”

Dr. Long looked up at Dr. Guan, who was busy rousing the patient from anesthesia.

“I wouldn’t have risked recommending him without seeing his skills firsthand. His abilities go far beyond this; this surgery is just an appetizer for him.”

Dr. Guan smirked; seeing the patient’s stable vitals after surgery brightened his mood considerably.

“That’s just a part of his skill set? It’s frightening—how are we attending physicians supposed to compete!” Dr. Long felt a surge of alarm at Dr. Guan’s appraisal of Zhou Can.

They had assumed the trainee possessed exceptional diagnostic abilities, several attending-level techniques, and even chief-level suturing and ligature skills—it was already astounding.

But little did they know, that was only a fraction of Zhou Can’s true capabilities.

Just how strong was this trainee?

At that moment, Dr. Long recalled a saying that rang especially true.

“One should never compare one person to another,”

or else comparing goods would lead to disappointment, and comparing people would only bring trouble.

“Dr. Zhou, may I ask why Dr. Zhao had you stay here to clean the operating room?”

Dr. Long decided to step in on this matter.

After all, Zhou Can had helped him immensely.

His contribution had been crucial to the success of the surgery.

Typically, open-chest hemostasis is only a secondary procedure.

But this surgery was far more challenging than a standard secondary one.

Normally, he would have needed the support of a Chief Surgeon long ago.

“When Dr. Zhao and Dr. Duan were operating, I chimed in a few comments which upset Dr. Zhao. He thought I was overreacting about surgeries and punished me by making me clean the OR for a day,” Zhou Can explained.

Zhou Can elaborated on the situation.

He was certain that the patient with the torn pectoral muscle would face serious complications.

Still, he knew he had done his best.

He had even inconvenienced his superiors, earning a punishment that left him sitting out.

He considered warning the relatives privately, but recalling their harsh demeanor, he decided against it. On his very first day at Tuyu Hospital, his mentor had told him that a doctor must learn to protect himself when saving lives.

Faced with such relatives, Zhou Can knew he had to play it safe.

Otherwise, he’d just be inviting trouble.

“I’ll go talk to Dr. Zhao—there must be some misunderstanding,” Dr. Long said, signaling his intent to speak up for Zhou Can.

“No, no—I’m fine staying here cleaning. It gives me a chance to exercise and observe various surgeries, broadening my experience,” Zhou Can retorted.

Zhou Can felt that staying in the OR was far better than returning to the ward.

Dr. Long couldn’t help but smile ruefully.

With such exceptional talent, watching surgery wasn’t merely about gaining experience—it was clear he was there to step in and save the day.

Before long, the Cardiothoracic Department would soon know that this operating room housed a superstar trainee.

……

Dr. Long and his team left quickly, citing an important surgery scheduled for the afternoon.

Left alone in the operating room, Zhou Can continued cleaning.

After finishing the cleaning, he glanced at the wall clock—it was already past noon.

He rushed off to the cafeteria to grab a meal.

Then he returned to the OR.

Around 1:30 p.m., Zhou Can sat with his eyes closed, resting—until another surgery was about to begin.

This time, seven or eight people entered the room—nurses and doctors alike.

Judging by the entourage, it was undoubtedly a major surgery.

“Hey, why is there a doctor here?” asked the leading female doctor—a woman in her forties with a remarkably slender, almost youthful figure.

She had fair skin, stunning looks, and an exceptional presence.

Several doctors trailed behind her.

Among them were two familiar faces to Zhou Can: Dr. Zhao, the ward supervisor, and Dr. Long, whom he had encountered that morning.

“This is the new trainee. Since he tends to break the rules, I’ve assigned him to clean the OR for a day—so he can observe the procedures and avoid future disruptions,” Dr. Zhao quickly explained.

Dr. Zhao hurried to clarify.

“What seems like a punishment is really care—a pretty effective way of teaching!”

The leading female doctor smiled as she remarked, then walked straight to the operating table.

Even Dr. Long had to stand behind her, indicating that she was likely the chief surgeon for this operation.

Zhou Can looked toward a patient—wasn’t this the one in Bed 17 with a cardiac aneurysm?

Originally, the surgery was set for 11 a.m., but either the chief surgeon was overbooked or the OR schedule shifted, causing a delay.

Sometimes complications during surgery can lead to significant delays.

Earlier that morning, Zhou Can had reviewed this patient’s reports.

It was another case requiring open-chest aneurysm clipping.

Unlike Dr. Long’s open-chest hemostasis procedure, this one was likely a full sternotomy.

That is, the sternum would be sawn open from the middle and retracted with a retractor to expose the surgical field.

Any surgery inflicts some degree of trauma on the patient.

Open-chest procedures are particularly invasive.

Before operating, doctors always weigh the risks, potential damage, and benefits.

In major surgeries like this, the benefits usually far outweigh the risks.

A cardiac aneurysm, if allowed to enlarge without treatment, risks rupturing.

It can even trigger an aortic dissection with a mortality rate exceeding 50%. Biquge

This patient’s aneurysm was enormous—like a ticking time bomb ready to take the patient’s life at any moment.

Timely surgical intervention was the best option.

Once on the table and under general anesthesia, the open-chest procedure began.

Zhou Can stood at the foot of the table, watching intently.

This time, there were many more doctors and nurses involved.

There were three nurses and a team of over six doctors.

Of course, only two or three were actually involved in the critical work.

Dr. Zhao, present as the ward supervisor, had originally assigned Zhou Can to cleaning, but eventually had to join in himself.

Perhaps he also wanted to take this opportunity to learn by watching closely.

After all, opportunities to observe a Level 4 major surgery are rare for a resident.

For a resident—whose status is just a notch above a trainee—minor surgeries offer more hands-on practice, while chances in major procedures are few and far between.

Observing up close was immensely beneficial.

A doctor’s growth depended on constant learning and experience.

Watch, learn, reflect, and then gradually take on simpler tasks until eventually you can complete every step of a surgery on your own—that’s what it means to be competent.

Only then could one qualify to lead such procedures independently.

Female surgeons were relatively few.

This woman in her forties, already serving as a Chief Surgeon at such a young age, was a testament to her excellence. Tuyu Hospital hardly had many chief surgeons in their forties.

If he wasn’t mistaken, she must be Director Xue.

The patient in Bed 19 with a torn chest muscle had referred to her as someone she knew well.

Zhou Can had initially pictured her as an older woman, but she turned out quite youthful—though her surgical prowess remained to be seen.

At that moment, the surgery had begun.

Director Xue stood calmly at the operating table, her scalpel effortlessly slicing through the patient’s chest skin.

Every move was remarkably deft and smooth.

Her gaze was piercing.

An aura of mastery radiated from her.

“Her incision technique is at least at the Associate Chief level—it’s impressive!”

Experts could immediately tell the difference.

Zhou Can secretly compared his own rudimentary, attending-level incision skills with hers—the gap was enormous.

They were clearly on completely different levels.

The surgery continued; once the skin was incised, the sawing of the bone turned brutally intense.

If the relatives saw this, they might be utterly terrified.

The sternum was sawn right down the middle, split in two, and then retracted.

This was arguably the most violent form of open-chest surgery.