Chapter 411: Late-Night Reflections in the Emergency Department

“Professor, could you please check if I’ve done enough debridement for today?”

Zhou Can had just finished the debridement procedure and already earned 100 experience points in Debridement Technique. He’d picked up a lot of practical skills from this case.

In surgery, practice is everything.

A lot of surgical techniques sound simple in theory but are tough to execute in reality.

Most surgeons can recite the steps of a procedure, but very few can actually carry it out smoothly when it matters.

Those who can truly excel are rare as phoenix feathers.

That’s exactly why skilled surgeons are held in such high esteem in every hospital.

At least among clinical staff, their status is unrivaled.

“Your debridement skills are genuinely impressive. Like the perfect figure—one bit more and it’s too much, one bit less and it’s not enough. Absolutely just right.”

Dr. Xu, who’s usually a stickler for rules and keeps a straight face, actually compared the technique to a young woman’s figure.

It was such an unfamiliar side of him that Zhou Can and the others felt thrown off.

Two words popped into Zhou Can’s mind he’d never dare say aloud—closet flirt.

A lot of men, especially the ones who always act upright, actually have a hidden playful side.

But manners, morals and reputation force them to keep that side tucked away to avoid embarrassment.

“Let’s send him back to his ward. Watch his condition closely for a day or two, then we’ll decide if he’s ready for a second debridement.”

Dr. Xu finished the checkup and personally wrote up the medical orders.

The focus was on two main points: infection control and nutritional support. Plus, keeping the wound drainage open.

Once the first debridement is done, it only takes another two or three days to see which tissues might turn necrotic.

Then they’ll go in for the next round.

Right now, his biggest danger isn’t the pain or worsening wounds. It’s whether his sepsis risk improves after this surgery.

If things take a turn for the worse, not even Zhou Can or Dr. Xu will be able to save his limb.

At that point, amputation would be the only way to save his life.

When they finally wheeled the patient out, it was already past nine at night. That’s surgery for you—until it’s done, you just have to grit your teeth and push through.

No breaks for the bathroom, for water, or even meals. If you’ve got a big operating team, you can rotate for breaks, but here, that wasn’t an option.

This surgery took Zhou Can over four hours.

It was easily the least cost-effective operation he’d ever done.

He’d sometimes finish a level-three procedure in less time than this.

“You’ve all worked hard. Time to clock out!”

Dr. Xu told them.

“I asked Xiaolan to order takeout for everyone. It’s so late, all the restaurants are closed. Professor, have your meal before you leave—otherwise it’ll just go to waste!”

Zhou Can called Dr. Xu over.

“So, you’re letting the big spender treat us?”

Dr. Xu didn’t refuse.

“I wouldn’t call myself a big spender, but I’m more than happy to treat everyone to dinner now and then. My father always taught me, ‘You’ll never go broke from eating or dressing well. It’s the bad habits—gambling, womanizing, drugs—that ruin lives.’”

Zhou Can said with a grin.

“Impressive upbringing! If there’s ever a chance, I’d love to meet your parents—see what kind of people raise such an outstanding son.”

Dr. Xu said as he peeled off his gloves, tossed them in the trash, and headed to the changing room.

Honestly, the Emergency Department gets the short end—the OR is basic and there’s not even a place to eat.

Other heavyweight departments get fancy operating rooms with all the amenities.

Sterile rooms, image-reading rooms—they all double as break rooms for staff during overtime.

Once the Emergency gets a proper new OR, they’ll finally have a decent spot to call their own.

They crowded together around their takeout dinners.

“Dr. Zhou, can I ask why we don’t go all the way with debridement in gangrene patients?”

Luo Shishen had clearly been holding this question in for a while.

He’d wanted to ask for some time.

He was worried Zhou Can might scold him, so he waited until the operation was over.

“If you clear out all the dead tissue and even remove tissue that still has a shot at recovery, the wound might look perfectly clean and thorough. But have you considered the cost? You’d make the wound even larger and healing becomes far more difficult. That slows recovery considerably.”

Zhou Can explained.

Sometimes, more speed means less progress.

Every gangrene case needs its own debridement plan.

The patient’s wound was both wide and deep—going all-in at once would’ve resulted in a massive wound.

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Keep in mind, the wound’s had weeks to recover. Even though it still got infected, the surface actually developed some healing tissue.

Stripping it away is like tearing off a fresh scab—it’d hurt the patient’s body badly.

So you can’t just judge by appearances.

“Got it!”

Luo Shishen nodded.

Earlier, snipping the suture lines during surgery had made him queasy—he could barely eat.

No one could help with that; it’s something he’d need to adjust to himself.

Ma Xiaolan wasn’t doing any better—after just a couple bites, she set her food aside.

Zhou Can, still busy at this late hour, pulled out his phone to text Su Qianqian so she wouldn’t worry.

Tuyu Hospital actually had humane rules about phone use.

Staff were allowed to carry phones and even bring them into the OR, as long as they stayed on silent. But if you got caught on your phone during work, that was a fifty-yuan fine and two points off the department.

Get caught three times, and you’d be publicly criticized across the entire hospital.

Honestly, even two times was enough for the department director to blow up.

Departments only start with twelve points total.

That’s only enough for five strikes before you’re in deep trouble.

If your score drops to zero, the director might be out of a job. Best case, you lose the team bonus and face public criticism and a deep-dive self-critique.

That’s why doctors and nurses almost never play with their phones at work.

More and more family members sneak photos of medical staff, especially when patients are being resuscitated.

Some families are masters at playing mind games.

They might chit-chat with you politely, but all along, their phones are secretly recording. If things go to court, those recordings become evidence.

These days, lawsuits against medical staff are a dime a dozen.

Sometimes doctors do everything right, yet a patient dies during treatment. Then the family causes a huge scene. To calm things down, the hospital often just agrees to a payout.

Even paying just fifty or sixty thousand yuan for burial expenses is far more than doctors can bear.

Don’t think the hospital foots the bill. After negotiating with the family, the Medical Department tells the doctor to pay up.

Of course doctors feel wronged.

They did everything right and still have to fork over money.

But the hospital’s only looking out for its own interests.

Whether the doctor is ruined isn’t their concern.

The Medical Department leaders might even snap back, ‘Why’d the family sue you and not someone else?’

Lots of doctors just quit after going through that kind of heartbreak.

And honestly, who could blame them?

Some hospitals automatically dock a doctor’s or nurse’s pay the moment a complaint is filed.

Guilt or innocence doesn’t matter. Hospitals always side with families—and this isn’t just rare, it’s the norm.

So, after going numb from being burned a few times, staff naturally adopt a cold, by-the-book attitude.

Zhou Can ate while pulling out his phone to send a text.

He spotted several unread private messages.

Su Qianqian had texted around five-thirty: “Honey, will you be home for dinner? I’m making your favorite sweet and sour ribs!” followed by a string of finger-hook emojis.

“Since you haven’t replied, I bet you’re stuck at work! I’ll wait for you at home. Drive safe!”

Thoughts of home brought a warmth that filled Zhou Can’s heart.

Countless people working far from home long to return during the holidays because there’s someone waiting and worrying for them.

Having someone who loves you waiting at home is a happiness Zhou Can couldn’t resist.

So no matter how late he worked, he’d head home every night—even if it meant walking under the stars.

“Just finished work. Having dinner with my colleagues, then heading home.”

He snapped a quick photo and sent it to her.

“You’re working late tonight! Drive safe, okay? Take it slow!”

Su Qianqian replied instantly.

She was probably glued to her phone, waiting for his message.

So late and still not home, no wonder she was worried.

He sent her a flying kiss emoji.

With a good wife at home, a man’s headaches are few.

He checked his other private messages.

His mother had sent him two voice notes. Since his colleagues were around, he didn’t dare play them out loud.

Lately, his mom had been on his case about getting married.

She’d already heard about his big promotion at Tuyu Hospital, and she was so proud.

But seeing men his age getting hitched and having kids, his mom couldn’t help herself—she wanted him to settle down soon.

His parents liked Su Qianqian a lot.

They loved the idea of their son marrying a star—they couldn’t have been happier.

He muted his phone and converted the voice notes to text.

“Son, have you eaten?”

“You and Miss Qianqian have been dating for so long—shouldn’t you arrange a meeting with her family to discuss marriage?”

Exactly as expected, another push to get married.

“Work’s really busy lately! Honestly, it’s my peak career period right now—let’s put the wedding plans on hold a bit longer.”

He could only use work as an excuse.

He hadn’t dared tell his parents about Su Qianqian’s kidney failure. He was afraid they’d object to the marriage, or just worry themselves sick.

If only he could find the last two key ingredients, cure her, and marry her just like any other couple.

Life rarely goes as planned. But those with real determination never bow to fate.

Even with the worst hand dealt, true fighters play a winning game.

But those who give up at the first stumble will lose before they start—even if they’re given the best cards.

The truth for most successful people: the life you envy is backed by hardships you can’t imagine.

No one’s success or happiness happens by chance.

Zhou Can texted back, then opened a message from Director Le of Cardiothoracic Surgery.

“Dr. Zhou, can you talk to Director Xue? She wants to take on a level-four cardiac surgery—it’s so risky, and I’m afraid something will go wrong.”

Director Le didn’t usually message him privately.

Maybe a simple New Year greeting here and there, but nothing more.

“I just finished surgery—am I too late to talk her out of it?”

The message came in after two that afternoon, but Zhou Can had been in the OR and couldn’t check his phone. Now it was past nine—by now, everything was probably over.

“Surgery failed. Reported to the Medical Department for follow-up.”

He ended the message with a crying emoji.

Usually upbeat, Director Le had to be feeling crushed—the Cardiothoracic Surgery Department was already on the decline.

Now, Director Xueyan had gone ahead with a major level-four surgery, failed, and now who knew what would happen next?

Some families would just accept it.

After all, before big surgeries, families always sign consent forms.

For a major operation, top-level relatives have to sign. Doctors are required to spell out all the risks.

Even if things go wrong and the patient dies, so long as rules were followed, the doctors aren’t at fault legally.

The real trouble starts with families who make a scene.

Moving the body to the clinic entrance, placing funeral wreaths, burning paper money, hanging banners—once that happens, the hospital’s hands are tied.

And it’s not what people think—the police don’t swoop in and arrest ‘troublemakers’ for causing a disturbance.

If the patient dies in the hospital’s care, the police can’t really intervene.

At most, they’ll advise both sides to negotiate or let the family take legal action.

But families aren’t dumb—lawsuits cost money and time, and rarely go their way. Big hospitals have legal teams and aren’t afraid of court.

So, the smart families just make a scene and demand answers.

As long as they don’t block patient access, like barricading the doors, they usually won’t get arrested.

That’s the least expensive way to pursue their rights.

It hits the hospital right where it hurts.

Hospitals are most afraid of medical disputes.

Good news spreads slow, but bad news travels far.

Once there’s a scene, what will other patients think? It trashes the hospital’s reputation.

Hospital leaders will do anything to keep the problem under wraps.

“Did someone die?”

Zhou Can texted back.

“Yes. Didn’t make it off the table.”

He ended with sobbing and mourning emojis.

Reading Director Le’s reply, Zhou Can felt his heart sink.

The patient was gone. Nothing more to be done—everything now hinged on how the family reacted.

Tuyu Hospital’s Medical Department, Dispute Office and Publicity Department would get involved, but they weren’t just for show.

They’d do everything they could to mediate.

Still, whatever the outcome, this would haunt Director Xueyan.

She’d just taken up her post and gone beyond her limits. The leadership would no doubt form a bad impression.

If a department head is deemed unqualified, dismissal is all but certain.

No hospital will let an unqualified doctor lead a top clinical department—especially not one like Cardiothoracic Surgery.

The Cardiothoracic Surgery group chat was dead silent—nobody dared discuss what happened.

This was just the calm before the storm.

It wouldn’t be long before gossip and controversy exploded. When it did, Director Xueyan was in real trouble.

“Sister Yan, you should’ve asked me to help for such a major surgery!” Zhou Can fumed inwardly at her recklessness.

If she’d called him, he’d have tried everything to stop her from going through with the operation. If she insisted, he’d have brought Dr. Xu in to back her up.

Even with restrictions, Dr. Xu couldn’t perform a level-four surgery, but he could at least advise from the sidelines.

After dinner, Zhou Can didn’t rush home. Instead, he went to check on the gangrene patient in the ward.

Director Xueyan’s surgical accident was a harsh wake-up call.

He couldn’t let any mistakes happen on his side.

If both of Dr. Hu Kan’s protégés messed up, his mentor’s legacy would be ruined forever—even after death.