Chapter 335: A Test of Skill and Steadiness

As for the remaining attending doctors and resident physicians, most of them couldn’t understand Zhou Can’s surgical approach. It wasn’t really their fault—when your skills aren’t there yet, high-level surgical plans might as well be written in ancient runes.

They just didn’t have the expertise to follow the reasoning behind many of the surgical steps.

The trainees and interns present? There was no hope for them at all.

“Dr. Zhou, did you really come here to consult us? Why does it feel like you’re just showing off?” One attending doctor who got along well with Zhou Can made the comment with a wry smile.

He spoke what everyone else was secretly thinking.

The surgical plan Zhou Can presented was already brilliant, easily on par with the chief physicians here. He was that good. Quite a few attending doctors felt outclassed.

Some associate chief physicians’ approaches might not even be as sharp as his.

If anything, they should be learning from Zhou Can instead.

“Dr. Long, don’t tease me. With my patchy skills I wouldn’t dare show off in front of all you seniors! I’m honestly here to get your guidance!”

Zhou Can had never been one to seek the spotlight.

Staying low-key was his style.

“I have to say, Zhou’s progress has been incredible. A lot of you younger doctors should take a page from his book. Do any of you feel the same thing? Every time you see him after a while, you’re shocked by how much his skills have grown. It’s like clockwork—never fails. That means he’s always working hard, always looking to improve.”

Dr. Hu Kan echoed what many chief and associate chief physicians felt.

The others agreed wholeheartedly.

Every time they saw Zhou Can in the operating room, they’d be amazed at his latest improvement.

“Zhou, your surgical plan was excellent, but there are still some areas that can be tweaked or perfected. For example, your planned interval before the second surgery—twenty-four hours—is actually a bit too long. From my experience, after the first operation, if the patient develops low cardiac output and gets the right medication quickly, you only need to wait about sixteen hours before doing the second surgery.”

Dr. Hu Kan truly deserved his reputation as the top expert in cardiothoracic surgery.

He could give such spot-on advice because he understood Zhou Can’s plan inside and out.

It was a clear sign he was on an entirely different level.

Only someone at that height could accurately point out shortcomings.

As for the attending and resident doctors present, it was hard enough for them just to grasp Zhou Can’s logic, let alone critique it. Honestly, they didn’t fully comprehend some of the surgical steps.

They had only the faintest idea why things were done this way.

Anything more advanced was simply beyond their reach.

“Director Hu, if the patient does go into a low cardiac output state, what medications should be used?” Pharmacology was still a weak spot for Zhou Can. He really needed to hit level five before tough cases started to feel manageable.

Low cardiac output often crops up after heart surgery and can be dangerous.

But with timely, proper medication, the outlook was usually pretty good.

“What’s your take?” Dr. Hu Kan answered the question with another question.

Director Xueyan watched Zhou Can closely as well, curious to see if he’d grown stronger in pharmacology.

“If there’s low output after surgery, it suggests weak heart muscle. First, I’d think of using positive inotropic drugs like dopamine, milrinone, and prostaglandin. If needed, I’d consider inhaled nitric oxide.”

That was the extent of Zhou Can’s thoughts on the subject.

“That’s basically correct. But before giving drugs, you have to pin down the cause. Low output syndromes usually occur because of left ventricular development issues or other conditions. Sometimes incomplete pulmonary artery correction during surgery could trigger it too. Your plan to strengthen the heart muscle, relax the blood vessels, lower vascular resistance, and boost the heart’s output—with dopamine and the others—that’s a good start.”

“Adjusting cardiac preload with transfusions and fluids to increase blood volume and ventricular filling pressure also works really well. Lowering afterload on the left ventricle has been proven effective in real cases too.”

Dr. Hu Kan’s expertise was undeniable.

His guidance was not only precise but also filled in many of the gaps in Zhou Can’s plan.

He continued to point out improvements Zhou could make to the rest of his plan.

Zhou listened intently, taking thorough notes as he went.

Whenever he was stumped, he’d ask questions right then and there.

That diligent attitude made Dr. Hu Kan value him even more.

After the discussion, Zhou Can felt over eighty percent confident about handling this congenital heart disease surgery.

At least on the theory side, nothing was holding him back.

A surgery is split into theory and putting it into practice—which, when you get down to it, means technique and hands-on skills.

Of his core surgical abilities, only his incision technique was a bit weak—currently at about average for an attending, maybe nearing the excellent mark.

His other skills were already at the associate chief physician level, more than enough to handle this surgery.

“Director Hu, when I do the surgery, could you be there for me? Just stand by and watch over things. With you around, I’ll feel so much more secure.”

Zhou Can was nothing if not thorough. He always liked to plan for the worst.

If Dr. Hu Kan was on standby, should anything go wrong, he could jump in right away.

If they waited for him to be called in from the department, the child probably wouldn’t make it.

“Just let me know ahead of time. I’ll be there, no problem.”

Dr. Hu Kan didn’t turn him down.

After all, Zhou Can had once saved his life. A small favor like this was the least he could do.

With his goal achieved, Zhou Can got ready to leave.

“Zhou, come with me to the office. We need to talk.” Dr. Hu Kan stood up with the help of the table.

Clearly, he wanted to speak to Zhou Can in private.

“Let me help you!”

Zhou Can rushed over to support him.

He could feel Director Hu’s body trembling slightly as they walked.

In that state, even the steadiest hand was gone. He couldn’t even attempt the simplest surgery anymore.

Zhou Can sighed inwardly. After all those years practicing his steady hand, who could have foreseen it all undone by failing health, to the point not even the simplest procedure was possible anymore.

Life was unpredictable—no one knows which comes first, tomorrow or disaster.

Once in the office, he helped Dr. Hu Kan settle into his chair.

“Close the door, would you?”

Dr. Hu Kan said it quietly.

Once Zhou Can closed the door, he invited him to sit as well.

“You’ve seen me. I can’t pick up a scalpel anymore. I never thought it would happen this soon—didn’t get a chance to prepare. Right now, what Cardiothoracic Surgery needs most is a strong leader. Don’t let those chief physicians fool you—they’re good, but they can only handle moderately difficult surgeries. The really tough ones are off the table for us now.”

Dr. Hu Kan laid out the department’s crisis with total honesty.

It was his sudden illness and the fact that there was no one trained to step up that brought things to this point.

Building up a solid pool of talent was the core of every department.

But finding a thousand soldiers was easy—true leaders were nearly impossible to come by.

It was rare to find someone who could truly carry the flag.

Worse still, it took at least a dozen years to train up a capable surgeon in cardiothoracics. That shortage was only growing more serious.

“Don’t worry, Director. I’m sure the cardiothoracic team will step up as fast as they can. Once you’ve recovered, you’ll be able to take the lead again.”

Zhou Can tried his best to comfort him.

“Eh, I doubt this body will recover. I’ve been a doctor my whole life, and you know what they say, doctors can’t heal themselves. But I know my own health. With good care, I’ll last another eight or ten years, but my hands won’t ever stop shaking. There’s no fixing that.”

Dr. Hu Kan shook his head, his face clouded by regret and frustration.

It’s pretty normal for people over eighty or ninety to develop shaking hands and feet. Age brings problems—calcium deficiency, muscle imbalance, nerve issues, and the like.

The usual culprits are Parkinson’s, overactive thyroid, or hypoglycemia.

But at sixty, those should be off the table.

Mainly it was his heart, with some lingering effects from two major operations.

“Zhou, how about joining Cardiothoracic Surgery as my protégé? With your talent, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle major surgeries in one or two years.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d made the offer.

But this time, things were different.

Before, Director Hu was still on his feet. Now the pillar had fallen, and the department faced a talent gap.

A shortage like this in a key department meant the whole hospital would suffer.

In the short run, they could get by on past glory.

But eventually, the department would dwindle.

Patients would toss Tuyu Hospital aside like an old rag.

People always gravitate to the hospital with the best reputation for skill.

“You know I’m Dr. Xu’s chosen successor in Rapid Surgical Technique. I can’t just switch mentors now.” Zhou Can could only steel himself and say no.

Facing the hopeful gaze of a once-great department head brought him some guilt.

“But I can recommend someone for you. He’s got real talent when it comes to Steady Technique.”

At that instant, Zhou Can thought of his roommate, Jin Mingxi.

When it came to Rapid Surgical Technique, Jin Mingxi had no talent at all, but in Steady Technique, he’d shown remarkable skill.

“Are you just trying to brush me off?”

Dr. Hu Kan sounded a bit annoyed.

“I wouldn’t dare! You’ve always been one of the people I respect most. I’d never lie to you. I’ll call him over right now so you can judge for yourself.”

Zhou Can was very confident about this.

Jin Mingxi had been practicing Steady Technique for almost two years and should be pretty accomplished by now.

“There really is such a person?”

Seeing that Zhou Can seemed sincere, Dr. Hu Kan couldn’t help getting his hopes up.

“Can you bring him over now so I can meet him?”

“I’ll call him right away!”

Without another word, Zhou Can pulled out his phone and dialed Jin Mingxi.

“Old Jin, I’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. Get over to the head office in Cardiothoracic Surgery, now.”

“I’m still working overtime here!”

Jin Mingxi had no idea what the big opportunity was.

He was still in his training period, putting in endless overtime and rotating through different surgical departments. Anesthesiology and Imaging were required too.

Most surgery doctors would spend the fourth-to-last month of training in Imaging, then finish the last three months in their chosen department, preparing for their residency.

Compared to all the perks and opportunities Zhou Can enjoyed, Jin Mingxi’s treatment was a world away.

Overnight shifts were a regular thing for him.

“Can’t you just take a quick break? Don’t drag your feet—this is the kind of chance you never get twice!”

Zhou Can was exasperated. Becoming Director Hu’s protégé? The competition would be cut-throat.

“You’re being all mysterious—what’s the opportunity? All right, all right, I’m coming right now!”

It wasn’t long before Jin Mingxi, out of breath, arrived at the door.

He knocked, and to his surprise, it was Zhou Can who answered.

Inside sat the man he’d always admired most—Director Hu.

“Di-Director Hu, hello!”

Jin Mingxi looked extremely nervous. He was stumbling over his words, his hands with no idea where to go.

“So, he’s the one?”

Dr. Hu Kan frowned deeply, scrutinizing him.

Not only was he a bit old for this, compared to Zhou Can’s calm presence, Jin Mingxi fell short.

“That’s right. He’s just never been in a situation like this and sees you as a hero, so his nerves are getting the better of him.”

Zhou Can jumped in, trying to help Jin Mingxi save face.

After explaining, he turned to Jin Mingxi.

“Quit being so jittery!”

He shot him a look and scolded him under his breath.

“Put on your best performance. If you pass Director Hu’s test, your biggest dream could come true!”

Though nearly thirty-seven years old, Jin Mingxi understood the hint, pinched himself sharply to rein in his nerves.

“Sorry, Director Hu! After seeing you present at a morning meeting, I’d always seen you as my idol. I just didn’t expect to meet you in person like this, and got flustered.”

Once Jin Mingxi pulled himself together, he started acting more like his usual self.

His explanation was genuinely solid.

He spoke with sincerity, his eyes steady.

“We’re all human; there’s no need to get worked up. Take a seat!”

Seeing this, Dr. Hu Kan’s face softened. He invited him to sit.

It was a solid start.

Honestly, when he’d first walked in, Dr. Hu looked like he was ready to toss Jin Mingxi right back out.

“Zhou says you’ve got a real knack for Steady Technique.”

“I wouldn’t say that—I’m just very passionate about learning your Steady Technique.” Jin Mingxi answered with honest humility.

“Oh? You’ve been practicing it?” Dr. Hu Kan’s eyes flashed.

“Almost two years now. It all started after seeing you demonstrate at that morning meeting. Afterward, I begged Dr. Xu to teach me, and eventually I picked it up.”

Originally, Jin Mingxi planned to master Rapid Surgical Technique, but it just didn’t suit him.

Once he switched to Steady Technique, he seemed to find his true calling.

Everyone has their own path—a door closes, a window opens.

There’s always a way forward if you keep looking.

“Come here, try to draw a line exactly like the one I’m about to draw.”

Dr. Hu Kan took a pen and, with a trembling hand, scrawled a long squiggly line on a blank sheet.

Given his shaking, the line was a perfect natural wave.

Mimicking a line like that was no small challenge.

In art training, people often practice by copying lines. Now, Dr. Hu Kan was using it to test hand steadiness.

Jin Mingxi stepped up, grabbed the pen, took a deep breath, and began tracing a line just like Dr. Hu Kan’s.

There were some minor differences, but his hand was impressively steady.

One look, and you could tell he was no amateur.

Dr. Hu Kan had spent his life practicing Steady Technique—he could recognize genuine skill immediately.

“Not bad! Judging by your touch, there’s no way you only practiced a year or two—there’s at least seven or eight years of foundation there.” For once, a rare smile appeared on Dr. Hu Kan’s face.