Chapter 108: A Glimpse Into Tuyu Hospital’s Intricate World

Because Doctor Gao, the brightest star of the Neurology Department, met this emergency training physician, his expression brimmed not only with delight but also with respect.

A hospital is a mini-society—if you’re promising or skilled, people will respect you.

Otherwise, you’re nothing more than dust in a corner.

Tuyu Hospital employs thousands, most of them just ordinary folks.

“Let me tell you, Dr. Zhou is the most promising in the Emergency Department. If you get on his good side, it’ll only work in your favor,” Gao Jian told the nurse before turning his gaze back to Zhou Can.

“Dr. Zhou, you didn’t come here to see me, did you? Haha! I suppose I’m a bit full of myself!”

Even though Gao Jian and Zhou Can were rivals, Gao Jian greeted him with warm enthusiasm.

The nurse glanced at Zhou Can in surprise.

Her eyes had shed all traces of disdain.

Instead, a flattering smile played across her face.

Alas, Zhou Can didn’t return her look.

“I’m here to see Director Yin. Do you know where he is?”

“Director Yin is my teacher. You think I’d know where he is? Come on, I’ll take you there. Funny enough, he mentioned you a couple of days ago. Today, you’re in luck—he’s working overtime. Normally, Director Yin doesn’t work on weekends, but with so many patients lately, he’s worried his expert slots will be snapped up by scalpers.”

At Director Yin’s level, he no longer handled most of the routine work.

His main duties were supervising students, holding clinics, and attending meetings.

If he were a head surgeon, besides clinics he’d also have to perform surgeries.

In that sense, internal medicine doctors naturally hold an academic edge.

Surgeons at the attending level or higher split their day—half in clinics, half in surgery—plus ward rounds, teaching, group management, and research, leaving little time for personal study.

Many believe that surgeons earn more than internists.

But that view is quite one-sided.

Sure, surgeons earn extra from surgery fees and overtime, yet internal medicine doctors also pocket significant prescription bonuses.

When it comes to inpatient care, the Internal Medicine Department completely overshadows surgery.

ICU beds can net tens of thousands a day—like money-devouring beasts.

Even so, many hospital bosses often complain that the ICU is a money-losing department.

Under Gao Jian’s guidance, Zhou Can headed straight for the Neurology outpatient clinic.

The corridor outside was crowded with patients.

Tuyu’s expert clinics are actually plentiful.

The cheapest expert consultation fee is 50 yuan, while VIP expert appointments can cost over 1,000 yuan.

Oddly, the inexpensive slots have little demand, whereas the pricey ones—often several hundred or over a thousand yuan—are snapped up in seconds.

These days, you must register using your own ID.

That has considerably limited the scalpers’ room to operate.

Back when registrations were handled manually without self-service kiosks, good expert slots were monopolized by scalpers.

If you wanted to see a doctor, you had to buy an appointment from them.

Not buying isn’t a problem—plenty of patients are willing to pay extra.

After all, patients simply can’t afford delays.

“Liu Yan, how many patients does Director Yin still have waiting?”

Gao Jian asked the triage nurse.

These nurses guide patients, maintain order, and call out numbers.

Patients just hand over their medical records and registration tickets, and she calls them in order.

That system prevents queue-jumping.

Patients and their relatives simply wait on the corridor benches.

“There are three patients left in total.”

“Alright!”

Gao Jian nodded and looked at Zhou Can.

“There are three patients; you’ll probably wait about thirty minutes. I have to head over to the inpatient department, so I can’t stick around.”

Specialist trainees—all of them have it tough.

They handle patients, write records, take night shifts, and do all sorts of clerical work… they’re so exhausted they fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow.

“Go on, get back to work! Thanks!”

Zhou Can waved farewell.

Today, he was lucky to run into Gao Jian; otherwise finding Director Yin would have been a real challenge.

After watching Gao Jian leave, Zhou Can found an empty seat and sat down.

He noticed many patients came with various test reports from other hospitals, having searched desperately for answers before coming to Tuyu for an expert diagnosis.

Casually, he looked around at the outpatient rooms—nearly all of them were expert consultation rooms.

Director Yin’s room bore the sign of VIP Expert Consultation Room No. 1.

There were at least six or seven rooms reserved for VIP experts.

To earn the title of VIP expert, one must have achieved significant breakthroughs in a specialized field.

Only after a rigorous review can one be granted the VIP title.

Tuyu Hospital’s strength was truly impressive.

After all, the Neurology Department alone boasted so many top experts even within a single sub-specialty.

Across its key departments, Tuyu probably has over a hundred top experts.

For many doctors, becoming a top expert is a lifelong dream.

In reality, even having three or four top experts among a hundred doctors is remarkable.

If Zhou Can keeps working hard, one day he too will be diagnosing patients in a VIP expert consultation room as a top expert.

While waiting, he took out his phone to re-read Qiu Jie’s test reports.

He scrutinized each page carefully.

Some reports he went over more than ten times.

Yet nothing significant emerged.

Around five o’clock, Director Yin finally wrapped up his clinic.

Zhou Can hurried to the door and knocked.

Director Yin looked up and paused in surprise upon seeing Zhou Can.

“Xiao Zhou!”

“Director Yin, you once said I could consult you anytime. I’m shameless enough to trouble you now.”

With a smile, Zhou Can stepped inside.

“Welcome! You weren’t waiting long outside, were you?”

Director Yin greeted him with genuine warmth.

His expression clearly showed he was pleased to have Zhou Can seek his advice.

“Not too long—only about thirty minutes. But finding you wasn’t easy. I’m not well-versed in the Neurology Department, so I had to ask around. Fortunately, Gao Jian led me here.”

Zhou Can felt completely at ease.

He walked over, picked up Director Yin’s empty tea cup, and refilled it for him.

That small gesture instantly bridged the gap between them.

Usually, only students would promptly refill a teacher’s tea cup.

It was a sign of respect.

And a way to show attentiveness.

“Next time, come see me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays—I’ll be holding my clinic here. On Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day shift, I’m at the inpatient office or the minimally invasive surgery room. You’ll find me in one of these spots. If you can’t locate me, just call. Do you have my number?”

That eagerness certainly pays off.

Director Yin willingly shared his phone number.

Not everyone gets such treatment.

“I don’t have your number, could you give it to me so I can save it?”

Zhou Can took out his phone, ready to record.

Director Yin recited his private number, and Zhou Can saved it—future communications just got easier.

These top doctors usually avoid giving their numbers to non-related people to prevent unnecessary trouble.

“What questions do you have? I still have rounds at the inpatient department, so make it quick!”

Director Yin was undeniably busy.

Other patients not only pay an 800-yuan registration fee but also endure long waits.

Thanks to his favor, Zhou Can was spared those hassles.

“I encountered a patient who had been paralyzed for years after a miscarriage. Despite visiting many renowned doctors, no one could pinpoint the cause. Since you’re the top Neurology expert, I hoped you could take a look.”

Zhou Can opened Qiu Jie’s test report and placed his phone before Director Yin.

“All her test reports are here.”

Director Yin opened the report, and his expression turned strangely puzzled.

Zhou Can noticed the odd look on his face.

“This patient saw me three years ago. When you mentioned her miscarriage causing paralysis, I had a hunch. Cases like this are so rare—you’d hardly see one in a hundred thousand miscarriage cases.”

Come to think of it, since Mr. Li and his wife live in this city, how else would they end up at Tuyu Hospital?

Once at Tuyu, any rare neurological case eventually lands on Director Yin’s desk.

Although he’d diagnosed Qiu Jie three years ago, he methodically reviewed each test report, enlarging them one by one.

He examined them with great care.

“That patient named Qiu Jie left a deep impression on me. On her second day in the hospital, she attempted suicide—fortunately, the nurse discovered it in time. I never imagined that even after three years, we still couldn’t determine her cause.”

Director Yin sighed deeply.

Hospitals are terribly afraid of patient deaths.

Even routine deaths can spike mortality rates, let alone suicides.

Such cases bring negative attention and potential blame for poor management.

“At the time of her diagnosis, she had just miscarried. My diagnostic skills were weaker back then, and I lacked experience. In hindsight, I fell into a trap—I believed prolonged shock, severe tissue damage, and infection complications caused irreversible paralysis.”

“During her exam, I noticed her muscle spindle’s sensitivity was abnormally high—especially in the arm flexors and leg extensors. There was a very high initial resistance that dropped dramatically, like a cliff edge. Based on these subtle findings, I diagnosed irreversible paralysis due to combined injury and infection, thinking there was nothing I could do.”

Three years later, after reviewing the data again, Director Yin remembered the case vividly.

Doctors tend to remember rare, challenging cases for a lifetime.

Either because such cases never repeat, or because the diagnostic process is so painstaking, the memory stays sharp.

“So, have you discovered anything new?” Zhou Can asked.

After three years, Director Yin’s diagnostic skills and experience had improved significantly.

Perhaps a breakthrough was still possible.

“I haven’t found anything groundbreaking. However, the test reports from the Imperial Capital Hospital gave me a clue. They conducted an electromyography test on Qiu Jie. Here at Tuyu, we can perform EMG too, but our equipment isn’t as advanced. See, the electromyography shows the signal gradually decreases from here—even at the thigh, there’s a faint signal. I believe if we locate the lesion, there might be hope.”

Ordinary doctors can understand EMG reports, but when it comes to deeper interpretations that require a blend of experience and medical insight, it becomes much harder.

It’s like looking at a picture—some see two faces, others see seven or more.

Noticing hints in the test reports and patient symptoms that others miss—that’s what marks a true expert.

Zhou Can had always been naturally gifted in diagnosis, and Director Yin’s hint made his eyes sparkle.

“You mean that if the electromyographic signal reaches the thigh, it indicates the nerves aren’t completely dead—just severely diminished, unable to trigger movements in the lower extremities? And as long as they’re not dead, there’s still a chance?”

Exactly—if the nerves aren’t dead, there’s hope.

Nerve cells are irreplaceable; once they die, recovery is extremely difficult.

“Smart!”

Director Yin gave him a thumbs-up.

That kid’s innate talent and insight were truly remarkable.

He grasped the situation immediately.

“In this case, the electromyographic signal gradually declined rather than dropping off abruptly. In my experience, that’s virtually equivalent to total nerve death—a bit like an old, failing wire. Until you replace it, nothing can be done.”

Director Yin shook his head in resignation.

This patient is simply incurable.

The nerves in the lower extremities are incredibly complex—no doctor can just replace them.

Zhou Can stared blankly at the wall, lost in thought.

Seeing his silence, Director Yin looked up and chuckled.

“This kid really reminds me of my younger self.”

Back then, he would dive so deeply into a medical mystery that he’d nearly lose himself—only relentless effort brought him to where he is today.

Director Yin didn’t interrupt Zhou Can’s contemplation.

Instead, he bent over to continue reviewing the patient’s records, hoping for additional clues.

After about ten minutes, Director Yin had to leave for rounds, leaving Zhou Can to ponder alone.

At that moment, Zhou Can seemed to reach a conclusion.

“Yes, that’s it. It must be just like that.”

He mumbled, his eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement.

“Have you discovered something new?”

Director Yin, well aware of Zhou Can’s unorthodox diagnostic style, never looked down on him despite his trainee status.

In fact, Director Yin held him in high regard and went out of his way to help him.

It was all thanks to Zhou Can’s unconventional approach.

“I believe this patient can still be treated. Her EMG signals diminish gradually—could it be related to blood supply?” Zhou Can asked, clearly heralding a major diagnostic breakthrough.

Why would you run an ECG on a paralyzed patient? It’s really all about checking circulation.