Chapter 125: Surging Through the OR

“He—does he really do that many surgeries on his own every month?” Dr. Shan asked, her speech a bit slurred.

With two assistants and two nurses, she manages about 500 surgeries a month, which is already impressive. In reality, she typically performs around 400 surgeries monthly.

The others were plainly shocked by such a volume.

Now they finally understood why Zhou Can was so outstanding.

After all, his monthly hands-on experience far exceeded the yearly cases of many residents.

As for these trainees, many had barely held a scalpel—some had only sutured a couple of times. The idea of independently leading a surgery was simply unthinkable.

Compared to Zhou Can’s field experience, they were like ground-bound creatures gazing up at the stars.

“As far as I know, that’s the case,”

Chief Resident Shen fixed his gaze on Zhou Can.

Hoping he would confirm it himself.

With his secret exposed by Shen, Zhou Can chuckled awkwardly and said, “It’s really not as exaggerated as everyone thinks—it was just a few basic level-one surgeries.”

In fact, if Director Xie hadn’t held him back, he might have already been overwhelmed by level-two surgeries.

“Really, over 1,200 surgeries a month! You’re amazing!”

Dr. Shan couldn’t help but give him a thumbs-up.

That number truly was something else.

“Dr. Shan, since your issue is sorted, I’m heading back to Operating Room No. 2. That sternotomy is just too risky—I need to keep a sharp eye on it.”

Chief Resident Shen dashed in and out in a hurry.

Before leaving, he cast Zhou Can one deep, affectionate glance.

Leaders do share a common love for talent.

Chief Resident Shen, one of Orthopedics’ top surgeons, genuinely admired a prodigious young doctor.

It was only natural that he would be driven to nurture such talent.

Though he said little as he left, his eyes promised that he might personally mentor Zhou Can in the future.

……

After Shen departed, the surgeries had to go on.

It was clear that Dr. Shan’s trust in Zhou Can had reached a whole new level.

In addition to handling free vascular anastomosis cases, Zhou Can was involved in several critical surgery steps.

He participated in many important phases alongside Dr. Shan.

He even had Zhou Can perform a vascular anastomosis.

However, Zhou Can’s anastomosis skills were slightly inferior to Dr. Shan’s.

This was an advanced surgical technique.

And she herself hadn’t yet reached attending level.

At present, he was performing at an excellent resident level.

Zhou Can felt a twinge of embarrassment—he was still at a lower-tier resident level.

Mainly, level-one surgeries rarely involve vascular or nerve anastomoses, so his advanced technique had essentially plateaued.

But he wasn’t in a rush.

Once he obtained his medical practitioner license, he’d be qualified for level-two surgeries.

By the time they finished the femur bone graft surgery, it was already past 7 p.m.

The operating room’s schedule was relatively flexible.

They had to complete that day’s surgery quota before clocking out.

“Thank you all for your hard work today. Each of you performed admirably. I’ll assess your performance fairly, and then you’re free to go,” Dr. Shan announced.

Though her words were encouraging, the trainees knew only Zhou Can was set for steady advancement.

As for the others, their fate would depend on how the two other trainee groups performed.

The next day, Zhou Can continued shadowing Dr. He in the Inpatient Department.

Unlike his intern days, many tasks now required independent handling. Dr. He, especially keen on his potential, shared all his knowledge without reservation.

Speaking of unreserved teaching, here’s a brief explanation.

For common knowledge, surgical techniques, and routine treatment methods, senior doctors are usually generous in sharing with juniors.

But when it comes to secret techniques—the core methods for tackling complex cases—virtually all doctors only pass them on to their chosen protégés.

This approach is standard in most hospitals.

For many young doctors, the goal from day one of internship is to impress a deputy or chief doctor in their specialty.

Even though success wasn’t always guaranteed, once a top-level doctor took notice—even if you weren’t chosen as a protégé—being on their radar could brighten your future.

At the very least, you’d receive excellent guidance in that specialist’s field.

How much you learned was largely up to fate.

Some interns and trainees, lacking ambition and courage, settle for trying to please a senior resident only slightly above them.

Unless they were exceptionally talented, they’d most likely remain just ordinary doctors.

They’d rarely achieve anything significant in their careers.

Zhou Can understood this early on. During his internship, he maintained an attitude with Dr. Fang that neither offended nor fawned.

Later, while assisting Deputy Director Liu in a level-three surgery, he seized any opportunity to win her favor.

Even if it meant offending Dr. Fang, he didn’t care.

That was his strategy for growth.

As the saying goes, ‘A general with a sword doesn’t waste it on flies. To become a towering tree, don’t battle with weeds.’

Sometimes, one’s perspective and ambition set the ceiling for personal growth.

Imagine if all you did was compete with a few trainees and curry favor with someone just one rank higher—how far could you really go?

It was hardly impressive.

Zhou Can had been busy in the ward until about 6 p.m., the usual time to clock out.

Yet Dr. He arrived with a smile and promptly took over his work.

“Let’s head to the doctor’s office! Dr. Yang will assign new tasks today. From now on, if you have any inpatient issues or notice patients needing special monitoring, you can come to me anytime,” Dr. He said warmly.

Dr. He’s so friendly—it was obvious that Zhou Can had already been assigned to work in the operating room.

With a mix of excitement and nerves, Zhou Can briskly made his way to the doctor’s office.

Still, until the new assignments were announced, even his strong skills couldn’t completely banish his self-doubt.

All eighteen trainees had gathered in the office.

Most of them wore expressions of intense nervousness.

Dr. Yang presided over the meeting once more, with the young Dr. He assisting.

After a long day in the OR, Zhou Can noticed that Dr. He’s surgical skills were quite weak, while Dr. Tang’s were significantly more proficient.

This observation clearly showed that those with weaker skills were often saddled with miscellaneous tasks.

“Everyone’s here! Over the past three days, all eighteen of you have strived for excellence, and your performances have been impressive,”

Dr. Yang started with some small talk.

Then she quickly got to the point.

“Unfortunately, due to limited trainee slots in the OR, we can’t have all of you work there. After preliminary selections by our attending physicians and final discussions among several chief doctors, the following six will join daily training in the OR. The other twelve may still have opportunities during surgeries.”

This is standard practice in most departments.

With limited resources, only a select few can be intensively trained while many receive broader instruction.

“Zhou Can, Lu Bubai, Cheng Dailue…”

Zhou Can was unexpectedly ranked first.

It seemed his superiors held him in very high regard.

And thinking back, it made perfect sense.

If things were even slightly fair, his prodigious talent deserved the top spot without question.

After calling out five names, Jin Mingxi’s name still hadn’t been mentioned.

Turning around, Zhou Can saw Jin Mingxi clutching his clothes, his face glowing with one last spark of hope as he stared at the list in Dr. Yang’s hands.

Falling behind in selection would only mean falling further behind step by step.

Orthopedic training was simply too critical.

It determined whether a solid surgical foundation was built.

Those three months of orthopedic training, if not packed with enough practical knowledge, couldn’t be compensated with books or videos.

That would inevitably impact later rotations in other departments.

One missed step could lead to a cascade of delays.

Moreover, once you became a resident, the gap only widened, which was very detrimental when aiming for an attending position.

That was why Jin Mingxi was so anxious.

At 35 years old with only a bachelor’s degree, any delay could tether him to residency until retirement.

Ultimately, his dream of returning to his hometown’s County People’s Hospital to elevate its overall medical standards would be severely compromised.

“Don’t worry—if you don’t get selected this time, I’ll find a way to help you in the future,”

Zhou Can patted his hand and reassured him softly.

“Mm!”

Jin Mingxi nodded gratefully.

“And finally, the last name: Jin Mingxi,”

Dr. Yang deliberately built up the suspense before revealing the sixth name.

“Yay!”

Jin Mingxi clenched his fist in excitement.

The few seconds of agony felt like an eternity.

The twelve trainees who weren’t selected wore expressions of deep disappointment.

Their spirits were understandably low.

But such is the ruthless nature of competition.

The capable rise while the mediocre fall.

“For those not selected, don’t lose heart. The path in medicine is long. As long as we keep learning and enhancing our skills, success will come. To be honest, I was once one of those unselected trainees. But through perseverance, I eventually became an attending in Orthopedics. Let’s encourage each other,”

Dr. Yang, noticing many downcast faces, recounted her own bleak past to inspire them.

Some trainees, whose confidence had been crushed, lifted their heads again.

Determination shone in their eyes.

Dr. Yang’s character was truly admirable.

“The six who have advanced should report to the OR tomorrow. Zhou Can, Lu Bubai, and Cheng Dailue report to Dr. Shan tomorrow. Wang Bin, Fan Wen, and Jin Mingxi, report directly to me tomorrow,”

She immediately laid out the arrangements.

By the sound of it, Dr. Yang’s own surgical skills might be slightly weaker than Dr. Shan’s.

Zhou Can wondered if the three assigned to Dr. Shan were considered the cream of the crop.

Now that it was all settled, he had successfully earned his spot in the Orthopedic OR. The tension in his heart finally eased. The next three months would be devoted to learning as many orthopedic surgical skills and treatment methods for bone conditions as possible.

……

The next day, Zhou Can arrived early at Orthopedics to check in with Dr. Shan.

The routine in this OR differed from that of the ER.

ER operations run 24/7.

Specialist ORs, aside from occasional long surgeries, generally start around 7:30 a.m. and finish after 5:30 p.m.

Sometimes they even end early if all surgeries are completed.

However, even when the OR quieted down, doctors and nurses worried about being marked as leaving early. They’d often spend time writing case reports, surgical records, or double-checking orders.

They usually stayed until the designated time.

In fact, staying late was the norm.

“Morning, Dr. Shan!”

As Zhou Can reached the Orthopedics corridor, he immediately spotted Dr. Shan.

She had already donned her white coat and was reviewing several checkup reports.

“Morning!”

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her reports.

Zhou Can quickly changed into his work uniform and followed her.

Among the three trainees, he was the first to arrive.

“Once everyone is here, we’ll begin rounds. This case is very educational—take a look,”

She handed Zhou Can a case file with attached checkup reports.

“Arriving early definitely has its perks,”

Zhou Can accepted the file and studied it intently.

Soon enough, Dr. He, Dr. Tang, and two other trainees arrived one after the other.

“Let’s start rounds!”

She led the group toward the ward.

“Dr. He, you know which beds in our group belong to our surgical patients, right?”

“They were all tallied this morning! Beds 46 through 145, plus Rooms 5 and 6.”

With so many beds, it surely wasn’t just Dr. Shan’s responsibility.

The group she mentioned was likely the entire trauma surgery team led by Chief Resident Shen.

A chief doctor typically makes rounds only once a week,

so the attending physicians needed to be diligent in managing their assigned surgical patients.

They examined each bed carefully.

Zhou Can trailed quietly behind, observing and listening to their discussions.

By now, he was beginning to learn how to conduct rounds independently.

Dr. Shan would question patients based on their conditions and formulate treatment plans after hearing reports from the attending physicians, interns, and the patients’ own responses.

There was a deep well of knowledge in this process.

He absorbed every bit of experience eagerly.

Being on rounds with senior doctors was a far cry from the intern days.

Interns couldn’t even write orders, let alone prescriptions.

Dr. Shan, however, could adjust treatments flexibly for each patient.

For instance, if a patient complained of unbearable postoperative pain, she would promptly prescribe painkillers.

“Dr. Shan, could you check my husband’s hand? It’s been nearly 24 hours after his surgery, yet his four fingers remain numb.”

The male patient, around fifty years old, lay on the bed.

All four fingers on his right hand had been amputated and reattached.

Now, his fingers still looked pale.

It was obvious that his blood supply was compromised.

Zhou Can silently wondered why all four fingers were suffering from poor circulation. It probably wasn’t due to an error in the vascular anastomosis but some other issue.

Coincidentally, he had been fortunate enough to perform two finger replantation surgeries.

He could have done even more, but Director Xie had ordered a quality control team leader to suppress him—in front of Deputy Director Ye—barring him from performing surgeries above level one.

Since then, Zhou Can had not performed a finger replantation again.

He stared at the patient’s four fingers—had they missed the crucial six-hour window for successful replantation?