Chapter 140: A Surgical Turnaround

The First Assistant heard this and immediately exploded with anger.

What does that even mean?

Isn’t it just a roundabout way of mocking his uselessness and incompetence?

“Do you think stopping bleeding is that simple? Just clamp the vessel with hemostatic forceps? Young man, let me tell you, studying and actual practice are two entirely different things,” he lectured Zhou Can in a gruff, old-school tone.

The First Assistant sneered as he chastised the rookie.

In his heart, he was probably cursing how these young kids always wanted to be in the spotlight.

They never measure up to their true worth.

“Dr. Ou, can I try using the hemostatic forceps? If it helps you, that would be even better. Even if it doesn’t, the damage from the forceps is controllable,” Zhou Can said, his gaze fixed on Dr. Ou.

At this moment, Dr. Ou was deeply troubled.

The patient’s blood vessel was spurting blood, and he had tried compressing several vessels with his hand, but to little avail.

The situation was extremely unfavorable.

It was practically a vicious cycle.

Without stopping the bleeding, the continuous flow obscured the view, making it impossible to pinpoint the true cause of the failed electrocoagulation.

In surgery, a doctor’s worst fear is to cause damage to crucial nerves, unexplained bleeding, and complications.

Each of these could lead to disastrous outcomes.

Damaging a nerve might result in anything from minor paralysis to sudden respiratory and cardiac arrest, or even death.

Unexplained bleeding is equally fatal; if the hemorrhage cannot be controlled, the patient’s prognosis is grim, especially with internal bleeding.

Complications can occur either during or after the operation.

Before surgery, doctors inquire about allergies, hypertension, heart disease, diabetes, and the like to anticipate any potential complications during the procedure.

Some heart patients have very low tolerance during surgery.

They might have a heart attack even before the surgery begins—just being wheeled onto the operating table is enough to scare them. Then, instead of surgery, the doctors scramble to resuscitate the patient.

As for post-operative complications, they used to be overlooked.

But now, more and more surgeons consider them the top threat.

Take spinal epidural hematoma as an example; it might be triggered by the patient or by a poorly executed lumbar puncture during anesthesia.

It often goes unnoticed at first.

Only after the patient is paralyzed post-surgery and an examination is done is the spinal epidural hematoma discovered.

The hematoma was exactly at the site of the lumbar anesthesia.

This is the simplest form of post-operative complication.

Needless to say, infections in the lungs, renal failure, or cardiopulmonary collapse after surgery are even worse.

Dr. Ou, at his wit’s end and about to call for backup, heard Zhou Can volunteering. For the first time, he really took notice of this bold trainee.

Zhou Can had just mentioned that the uncontrollable bleeding might be due either to damaging a vessel beneath the dura while removing an abnormal one or accidentally cutting through a bifurcation point.

Both ideas were beyond what most could conceive.

Dr. Ou silently raised his opinion of Zhou Can’s abilities.

“Chen Yue, let him try!”

Dr. Ou said to the First Assistant.

It was essentially a desperate, last-ditch effort.

As Zhou Can had pointed out, the forceps caused minimal damage—at worst, a minor clamping injury. But if it could stop the bleeding, it would avoid having to call for the superior doctors.

That way, face would be saved and the problem resolved.

Calling in the higher-ups isn’t a decision made lightly; there’s always a price to pay.

It would dent the higher-ups’ perception, lowering the weight of the surgery and casting doubt on their ability.

All of which could have serious repercussions.

News reports often highlight hospitals where errors were masked, with involved doctors downplaying issues and failing to report problems properly, leading to disasters.

Such rookie mistakes are inexcusable.

Do you really think the involved doctor was foolish?

In fact, he’s extremely clever.

He just had a lapse of luck, thinking he could handle it, so he didn’t report the problem to his superiors.

Which ultimately led to a mishap.

Dr. Ou ordered, and the First Assistant, whether willing or not, had to step aside.

Zhou Can took the forceps handed by a nurse and carefully traced the network of blood vessels at the bleeding point.

However, he encountered the same problem as Dr. Ou.

The incessant spurting of blood severely obstructed the view of the dura; even constant suction couldn’t clear it.

The bleeding was too rapid.

And to trace the vessel network, he had to start right at the bleeding source.

Zhou Can had long since mastered a unique skill.

He could locate the bleeding point by reading the ripples in the blood. Now that the source was clear, he set out to ‘find the dragon and sever its pulse’ through the ripple patterns.

All methods in the world are interconnected; this technique bore a striking resemblance to feng shui’s geomantic methods.

“The bleeding vessel’s position on the cardiac side should be here,” he noted.

And with that, he clamped an inconspicuous subdural vessel with the forceps.

A miraculous change occurred.

The bleeding stopped immediately.

“Amazing! Absolutely amazing!”

Dr. Ou exclaimed in delight.

The First Assistant, on the other hand, looked on in shame as Zhou Can stole the spotlight.

In the operating room, genuine skills are what count—no room for pretense.

Zhou Can had successfully stopped the bleeding, proving his superior ability.

He even surpassed Dr. Ou in this critical skill.

“You can’t clamp a vessel for too long; it could damage both the vessel and the dura. We’ve tried electrocoagulation repeatedly with no success. Do you think we can ligate the vessel instead?”

After all, this vessel had already lost its capillary network at the end. Ligation was a promising solution.

“Hold on, let me check!”

Dr. Ou spoke to Zhou Can in a much more courteous tone.

He quickly suctioned away the accumulated blood to clear the view.

With visibility restored, he swiftly identified the issue.

“It seems that when I was excising the abnormal vessel, I accidentally torn the vessel, which explains why the electrocoagulation kept failing. This vessel is quite abnormal—it’s already begun affecting the subdural vessels.”

The cause was finally discovered.

Dr. Ou was delighted.

Sometimes, all possibilities exist until the mist clears and the true cause is revealed. Oh, so the reason for the relentless bleeding was this simple.

“We need to further explore and excise all the diseased vessels, then ligate them. Otherwise, it’s just a ticking time bomb.”

Dr. Ou declared.

“In this case, we must open the dura to fully explore and eliminate the hidden threat.”

As per protocol, certain records had to be maintained during the operation.

What began as a spinal epidural hematoma clearance had now escalated with the opening of the dura—an upgrade in the procedure that required proper explanation.

Normally, the First Assistant would record the operation, and the Chief Surgeon would sign off afterwards.

Alternatively, the Chief Surgeon could write it all up within 24 hours.

Dr. Ou opened the dura and, after thorough inspection, found that although the vessel was not thick, its diseased segment extended nearly 3cm with deformation and sclerosis.

After excising it, and following Zhou Can’s suggestion, he ligated the terminal segment of the vessel.

“Alright, we can now release the forceps,” Dr. Ou said to Zhou Can.

Zhou Can slowly released the forceps, and the bleeding did not resume.

Everyone’s face broke into smiles of relief.

“By the way, what’s your name? You handled the bleeding impressively,” Dr. Ou asked while suturing the dura.

Had Zhou Can not performed so outstandingly, Dr. Ou might not have even bothered to remember his name during his two-month training.

But now, he felt that Zhou Can deserved recognition.

“I’m Zhou Can! I just finished my rotation in General Surgery, so please look after me for the next two months,” Zhou Can replied.

Not long ago, he had a falling out with the First Assistant.

By successfully stopping the bleeding, he had essentially put the First Assistant in his place.

Now, by keeping a low profile, he smoothed over the tension between them.

But make no mistake—he’d seize every chance to step into the spotlight again.

Only by demonstrating true skill can one earn the respect of the higher-ups and get a chance to take charge.

Take Jiang Xiaohua, for example—the difference between being noticed and remaining unnoticed is clear.

“Hmm, your performance was impressive earlier. Keep it up,” Dr. Ou remarked, clearly not having heard much of Zhou Can before.

After a couple of compliments, he returned his full attention to the surgery.

“Zhou, you haven’t had much practice suturing the incision, have you? Soon, you’ll stand by and watch how Chen Yue sews. Once you learn, and if conditions allow, I’ll give you a chance to operate,” Dr. Ou said in a gentle tone.

Superior doctors tend to nurture the trainee who stands out the most.

“Thank you!”

Zhou Can quickly expressed his gratitude.

His suturing skills had already reached an excellent level for a resident—just a thousand experience points shy of becoming a deputy chief.

Yet he remained modest as he followed Dr. Ou’s advice.

“Watch carefully: suturing requires strict attention to thread alignment and needle size. The correct grip on the needle holder and coordination with the forceps demand intricate techniques. I’ve honed these skills over many years,” he explained confidently.

Dr. Chen Yue, who had lost face earlier during the bleeding crisis, finally got a chance to redeem himself.

He confidently explained the basics of suturing while steadily stitching the skin incision.

Though his suturing wasn’t outstanding, it was on par with that of an average resident, albeit still short of an excellent level.

Zhou Can silently observed.

Jiang Xiaohua merely glanced before diverting his gaze. He seemed already well-versed in suturing.

For trainees, suturing is a rare chance for real practice—something even many residents compete for.

After closely observing, Zhou Can realized that different departments had their own suturing styles.

Much like martial arts sects, even when wielding the same sword, the styles differ widely.

Zhou Can’s suturing technique was shaped in General Surgery, later infused with elements from Dr. Xu’s style, and after three months in Orthopedics, he had incorporated some of their strengths as well.

Overall, he had absorbed the best from every style, constantly improving his technique.

He noted that both Dr. Ou and Dr. Chen’s suturing were notably delicate.

Their movements were measured and gentle, striving for neatness in every stitch.

This likely reflected the precision required in their respective fields.

Neurosurgery operations are high-precision endeavors, unlike the rougher techniques in Orthopedics. A slight misstep in force during suturing can jeopardize the anastomosis of vessels or nerves.

Operations on the brain or spine are akin to dancing on a razor’s edge, demanding utmost caution.

The Peak Scalpel wielded by Director Wu Baihe was renowned for its precise and meticulous technique.

After roughly twenty minutes, Dr. Chen Yue finished the suturing.

Zhou Can watched and absorbed every detail, pondering how he would handle the task if it were his turn to stitch.

He felt he had gained invaluable insights.

Dr. Chen Yue had once criticized Zhou Can, but during the suturing, Zhou Can’s earnest observation pleasantly impressed him.

“Got it? Suturing is simple in theory yet challenging in practice. Higher suturing skill means faster healing and fewer unsightly scars. I’ve heard some chief-level surgeons can even perform invisible suturing. So, learn well—you have a long road ahead!”

Dr. Chen Yue spoke with the tone of an experienced veteran, yet his gaze toward Zhou Can carried newfound warmth.

“Thank you for the guidance!”

A smile tugged at Zhou Can’s lips. Was invisible suturing really that amazing?

He had practiced and even applied it on patients several times.

Though he hadn’t reached Dr. Xu’s level, his stitches were neat and presentable.

“How are the patient’s vital signs?”

Dr. Ou looked toward the Anesthesiologist.

This operation, although risky, was classified as a Level 2 surgery.

It was of moderate difficulty.

“Vitals stable. Can we lighten the anesthesia now?” the Anesthesiologist inquired.

“Wait, let’s move him to the recovery room for observation for about half an hour. We need to closely monitor his breathing and consciousness. The first 24 hours post-op are critical, as secondary hematomas can occur,” Dr. Ou instructed.

After issuing the instructions, he and the two residents left one after the other.

Neurosurgery doesn’t have a high volume of operations.

Unlike General or Orthopedic Surgery, which are busier, their department performed only about eight surgeries a day on average.

…

After over forty minutes, Zhou Can and Jiang Xiaohua together wheeled the patient back to Bed 24.

The housekeeper, who was hired to earn her keep, wasn’t even waiting outside the operating room but was leisurely lying on the patient’s bed.

Frankly speaking, even if the patient died, it wouldn’t affect her.

If she were a relative, she’d be anxiously waiting outside; as soon as the patient exited the OR, relatives would huddle to ask about the outcome.

The housekeeper was sound asleep.

Zhou Can had no choice but to tap her on the shoulder and wake her up.

“Aunt, Mr. Hao’s surgery is finished and went smoothly.”

“Oh? Surgery went well? I’ll call his son right away,” she replied, moving off with her phone.

Zhou Can and Jiang Xiaohua then transferred the patient to the bed. After the housekeeper finished her call and received further instructions, they left.

They needed to notify the nurse to set up an IV for the patient.

The head nurse, Hu Shuiling, was seated at the nurse station.

With plenty of subordinate staff, she rarely had to work, unless a critical patient required her personal attention to avoid mistakes.

“The patient in Bed 24 has been moved back to his original bed. Have the medical orders been updated?” Zhou Can asked.

“Yes, I’ll go set up the IV, check his blood pressure and pulse immediately,” came the reply from a rather haughty nurse.

At the sight of Zhou Can, her usually stern face softened a bit.

It seemed she finally knew her place.

Earlier, she had quarreled with the female housekeeper. Had it not been for Zhou Can stepping in, she would have surely been complained about—if not worse.

Thus, she felt grateful toward Zhou Can.

“You two, one go check on Bed 31—the nurse reports severe vomiting. The other with me at Bed 22,” Dr. Cheng hurried out of his office.

“I’m coming with Dr. Cheng to Bed 22!”

Hearing about the vomiting, Jiang Xiaohua furrowed his brows and immediately shifted the task to Zhou Can.