Chapter 529: Hard Choices and Second Chances

The hardest thing in life is keeping a peaceful heart all the way to the end.

Director Xueyan and Zhou Can had no obligation to help these people who’d jumped ship, but watching them fall beyond redemption left neither of them feeling any joy.

Both belonged to the social elite—they had a certain empathy for these victims.

Especially since these victims were once colleagues, comrades in countless battles.

“So you’re saying we should help them out?”

Director Xueyan fixed her gaze on Zhou Can as she asked.

“Both emotionally and strategically, we have to help. If we want Cardiothoracic Surgery to become a truly world-class department, we’ve got a long way to go. We need to unite every resource we can—it’s always been said that kindness and righteousness win the world. Helping them is both compassionate and morally right. Doing this will help shape you into an even better leader for the department.”

Zhou Can had come to understand these deeper philosophies bit by bit on his own.

Leading the surgical team in the Emergency Department had done wonders for his leadership skills.

And being the first to push for improved personal safety measures for clinical staff at the hospital—that had been a true eye-opener for Zhou Can. It was almost a revelation.

After hearing him out, Director Xueyan fell silent again.

She weighed the pros and cons, trying to figure out the best path forward. In her position, she had to take responsibility.

As the department head for Cardiothoracic Surgery, she was responsible for the department’s future. She had to consider every aspect: growth, safety, unity.

They sat in silence for a good seven or eight minutes, both lost in thought.

Zhou Can picked up the test results for a tricky case and examined them closely, determined not to waste a second.

The patient was a 47-year-old man diagnosed with lung cancer. The tumor was dangerously close to the lower pulmonary vein, which meant the first step was to isolate the vein safely. But the segment needed was so short that accessing it outside the pericardium was nearly impossible.

The operation was incredibly risky.

By traditional standards, it was almost impossible to pull off.

Local tertiary hospitals didn’t have the skill for this surgery. They pushed the patient elsewhere. Maybe the doctors there had seen Zhou Can’s live surgery broadcast that night—they told the patient outright, ‘Tuyu is top-notch for heart and lung surgeries. Go to Tuyu Hospital.’

So, battered and exhausted, the patient came to Tuyu Hospital, carrying his final hope.

Zhou Can scrutinized the patient’s records again and again, his brow furrowed tight.

But this surgery held challenges even deeper than what appeared on the surface.

Based on experience, Zhou Can suspected there’d be other hidden surgical issues affecting the lower pulmonary vein. Modern tests just couldn’t expose all the possible physiological anomalies in advance.

You only found out the real situation once you opened up during surgery.

Because the lesion was within the chest, you had to open the chest to check it out.

You couldn’t just open someone up to explore and then stitch them back together if it looked too hard—that wasn’t ethical or up to medical standards.

Most of the time, it came down to the chief surgeon’s expertise and quick thinking. You climb the mountain when you come to it, cross the river when you reach the water.

“Cardiothoracic Surgery can take those twenty or so former staff back, but they might not get their old positions back,” Director Xueyan finally decided after a long silence.

She took Zhou Can’s advice and offered these people a lifeline.

“Is that because their old spots are filled and there’s no way to restore them to their original posts?” Zhou Can asked.

“That’s part of it. According to hospital procedure, leadership roles need thorough review, including loyalty assessments. They betrayed the hospital once, so they can’t be trusted with major administrative posts—not for now, at least.”

It was basically a political background check.

Leadership meant power, after all.

If you put the wrong person in charge, the consequences could be huge.

Promoting and appointing hospital administrators was always handled with utmost caution. Just think of that former Security Chief at Tuyu who nearly drove the whole clinical staff to revolt.

Even running a subdepartment carried real clout.

Often, the head decided the entire direction and style of that team.

“I think most of them can accept that. If you make a mistake, you’ve got to pay the price. Just pulling them out of misery and letting them work again is already more than fair. If anyone comes back expecting the privilege and perks they had before, I say let them go and fend for themselves.”

Zhou Can understood all too well the dark side of human nature.

There really were greedy, thankless types out there.

If the penalty isn’t severe, it won’t serve as a warning.

Sometimes you had to be ruthless, punishing severely to uphold discipline.

They’d basically reached an understanding: bring these people back, so long as they appreciated it and returned with a fresh mindset, ready to make the most of this hard-won opportunity.

“Even if I agree, it’s not enough—I still have to get approval from the hospital directors. But when the time comes, I’d like you to be the one to meet with them.”

Director Xueyan had her reasons for not handling this face to face.

If she stepped in personally, it would encourage even more people to leave, seeing there was nothing to lose by switching jobs. If things didn’t go well, they could always come back.

But if Zhou Can was the one stepping up, it was different.

It would send a clear message: ‘You’re only coming back to Tuyu Hospital because Zhou Can, remembering your past relationship, went above and beyond for you.’

That way, these people would respect him and Zhou Can would gain a huge favor.

Other colleagues would come to see him as a man of principle and kindness, helping pave the way for his future promotions.

“I’m happy to help. I actually plan to speak to the hospital leadership soon about another important matter, so I can bring up the jumpers’ situation first. Later, when you file the official request, there should be less pushback.”

Zhou Can agreed without hesitation.

“Alright, that settles it.”

She looked visibly relieved.

Deciding to bring their old colleagues back—and stopping another possible tragedy—was a big weight off her mind.

As Zhou Can had put it, she could sleep easier knowing she’d done this.

“This next case is a tough one. Two hospitals have refused to operate. I’ve looked over everything, and honestly, it’s a very high-risk procedure. What’s your take?”

Director Xueyan noticed Zhou Can studying a patient’s file and asked directly.

There really were a lot of tricky cases to deal with—the clock was ticking.

“It’s worth a shot. Every operation carries risks. Sure, this one’s tougher than usual, but as long as we adapt on the fly and deal with whatever we find in the OR, I think we can remove the entire tumor. If we turn him away too, he’ll probably give up hope. He might go home and wait for the end.”

Zhou Can understood exactly what some patients felt inside.

They didn’t know medicine—just hearing ‘cancer’ left them hopeless.

If the local hospitals couldn’t cure them, and even a provincial hospital said no, most older patients would simply accept their fate.

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They didn’t want to waste any more family resources. They’d rather enjoy their last days in peace at home than keep fighting a losing battle.

A healer’s heart is compassionate—Zhou Can rarely turned away patients like that.

If he couldn’t treat them himself, he’d call for help from specialists in other departments and try a joint approach.

“Then I’ll schedule his operation. Most of his presurgical checks are done—the disease is advancing fast. Is tomorrow good for surgery?”

After taking the patient’s file, she wrote ‘scheduled for surgery’ in the top corner.

“No problem. I should be here around seven tomorrow evening as usual.”

She was really asking when would be convenient for Zhou Can to operate—clearly meaning for him to be chief surgeon.

With Zhou Can’s surgical skills rising so fast, he’d already surpassed Director Xueyan in nearly every aspect. He was now the shining star of Cardiothoracic Surgery.

When these extremely tough cases came up, Zhou Can was almost always the one handling them.

Big operations often needed two or three days’ preparation: presurgical assessment, anesthesiologist consults, family discussions, fasting, and fluid restrictions for patients.

If the operation involved the head, perineum, or even the thighs, the area had to be shaved clean.

Usually the nurses or the intern responsible for the bed handled that.

For patients with heavy body hair, especially during chest surgeries, all chest hair had to be shaved off.

Middle-aged male patients almost always had the most body hair at that age.

“There are eleven tough cases in total. Take a look at this one too.”

She handed him another patient’s file.

Since Zhou Can had been visiting Deputy Director Lu at the Provincial People’s Hospital the previous day, he’d missed helping in Cardiothoracic Surgery, so the challenging cases had piled up.

It had to be said: Cardiothoracic was still a very strong department.

Even after the Third Hospital poached more than twenty skilled staff, their core team was still solid. Director Xueyan and the others kept improving—they could handle many tough cases without Zhou Can’s help.

Zhou Can was brilliant at diagnosis and surgery, but he wasn’t superhuman.

Some tough cases he couldn’t solve, but other chief physicians could.

Still, he was the department’s clear standout.

“Lower limb pain and gangrene?”

It had been a while since Zhou Can treated a gangrene patient.

He didn’t expect to see another one now.

Given that Director Xueyan and the others had trouble with it, the case must’ve been truly complicated.

This patient was a senior—already sixty-five.

In elderly patients, foot gangrene almost always pointed to diabetes.

Too many elderly folks with diabetes didn’t get checked out; even if diagnosed, they’d take their meds only sporadically. If their condition eased even a little, they’d secretly stop medication to save money.

“Our whole department’s already discussed this one, and we even brought in General Surgery and Endocrinology for a consult. The cause is still unclear. Since you’re best at diagnosing tricky cases like this, take a look. This patient is a retired official, and top leaders have already spoken to Director Zhu on his behalf. Director Zhu specifically instructed Cardiothoracic to give it our all and to use the hospital’s full resources if needed.”

Retired officials were every doctor’s favorite kind of patient.

Unlike regular patients who couldn’t afford expensive medications, retired officials could access all sorts of treatment options. You could pull out all the stops to chase the best outcome.

For medical staff, these cases made for great practice.

And they were a gold mine for the department—a big boost in profits and a great way to expand your network.

All in all, treating retired officials came with major perks.

But the stakes were high—only the department’s best were allowed on these cases.

If anything went wrong, it could become a huge problem.

One mishap could drag the entire hospital down.

Even retired, these officials held real influence.

Some had a network so powerful that all kinds of big shots would visit them in the hospital.

Going over the labs, Zhou Can exclaimed, “No history of diabetes? No wonder you said this case was so tricky!”

“The patient’s well-off and has always had top-notch medical care. He’s paid close attention to staying healthy. Lower limb pain’s been a chronic problem—he’s had it for years. He’s been hospitalized multiple times but it keeps coming back.”

Director Xueyan chimed in.

It made sense—he probably had a good pension and a comfortable life, so, of course, he’d want to stay healthy and enjoy his later years.

Zhou Can continued to review the patient’s charts and test results.

The patient complained of numbness, coldness, and pain in his right lower leg.

This had been going on for almost two decades.

At first, the pain came from overexertion. Twenty years ago, he was just another mid-level bureaucrat, working hard to curry favor with a powerful boss, always on the go—the busiest in his department.

He’d tag along on every trip and errand, and by the end of the day, would be completely worn out.

That’s when the right leg first started aching and going numb.

But after some rest at home, it would usually get better.

He even turned to Traditional Chinese Medicine for herbal baths to ease the pain.

It was basically a medicinal soak.

But those were the years when his career came first. He didn’t have time to be hospitalized. Even when the pain was unbearable, he just gritted his teeth and pushed through.

And decades ago, healthcare wasn’t nearly as advanced as it is now. He went to the hospital a couple times, but no one could pinpoint the cause.

They’d prescribe some painkillers and blood circulation pills, then send him on his way.

In the end, his hard work paid off—the big boss noticed him, and after five years, his career took off. He kept moving up, practically rocketing through the ranks.

With professional success came a better life—no more endless errands every day.

But his right leg remained a chronic issue.

He’d endure terrible pain several times a year, despite multiple hospital stays. Nothing brought true relief.

He’d come to Tuyu Hospital this time because of its reputation for great care. Initially, he went to General Surgery for his right leg pain—now his toes had turned black with gangrene.

Two hospitals had checked him over—they both said he might lose the limb.

In other words, he was facing amputation.

That scared the retired official half to death.