Chapter 439: A Doctor’s Dilemma and Hopes for Home

“I’m not married yet.”

Zhou Can was more than ready to settle down with Su Qianqian after so many years together.

But she worried her kidney disease wouldn’t improve and flatly refused to get a marriage certificate.

“So, do you have a girlfriend?”

The anesthesiologist got along with him pretty well. Maybe it was because Zhou Can was Director Feng’s protégé, basically half a member of the anesthesiology department, so he got treated extra warmly.

“Yeah! We’ve been together for almost four years now!”

Zhou Can hadn’t realized it had been nearly four years already. Time sure flew.

He couldn’t believe how quickly the years had slipped by.

“Judging by your financial situation, you’re doing alright! Why aren’t you married yet?” she asked, her eyes flickering.

After all, men who won’t commit after years of dating are often just playing around.

“Uh… there’s still a little problem I haven’t figured out. Let me ask you, is having a child a good thing or not?”

He deftly shifted the conversation.

“That depends on how you see it. Having a child means more financial pressure, more time spent with them and on their education. But kids bring life and hope to a family. Take it from me—sometimes I get home late, totally exhausted from work. But when I see my daughter, I think it’s all worth it. And when couples argue, a child can bring you back together. All in all, having kids is definitely a good thing. A life without children just feels incomplete.”

She spoke as someone who’s been there—passing on her heartfelt experience to Zhou Can.

“Alright, I need to check on the patient with alveolar air leak for Associate Director He. Gotta run—see you soon!”

Zhou Can waved back and left the operating room.

The anesthesiologist’s words echoed in his mind.

He began to understand Su Qianqian’s concerns. If her kidney disease didn’t improve and his parents found out, they’d likely object to their marriage. After the honeymoon phase, arguments might erupt over not being able to have children.

Their marriage would be constantly under threat.

“Where on earth can I buy Purple-backed Mayapple?”

He’d already found the Rainbow Toad—just one last ingredient left, but he hadn’t made any progress.

Maybe it was time to tap into the power of his social circle.

Zhou Can had plenty of friends and colleagues in the medical field.

With his mind made up, he posted a status in his social feed.

“If anyone has leads on this Purple-backed Mayapple, please let me know. Thanks!”

He’d found a picture online to go with it.

After posting, he stopped thinking about it for the time being.

He headed to Director He’s office and, sure enough, found him sleeping on a simple fold-up cot.

These kinds of cots were often used in hospitals for giving patients an extra bed temporarily.

Sometimes when doctors worked late, they’d just borrow one from the supply closet to crash for the night. The supply room here was just a small storage space in the department—not the hospital’s central supply office.

Applying for things from the main supply office was a pain.

Doctors would rather sleep on the floor than haul a cot all the way from central supply. Just carrying it over was exhausting enough.

“Director He!”

At his call, Director He woke up.

Middle-aged folks like him slept lightly—it didn’t take much to wake them.

“You finished the surgery? Sorry to trouble you so late for another patient eval.”

Director He had slept in his clothes, covered by just a thin blanket.

He was selfish in some ways, but always took patient care seriously. Whenever a serious post-op complication hit, he’d pull out all the stops for help, even working through the night.

He might be getting older and slowing down, but his commitment to putting patients first was something you had to respect.

“Don’t mention it, Director. Which bed’s the patient in?”

“Bed 3, monitoring room.”

Here, the monitoring room meant the department’s small observation area—not the hospital’s full critical care unit.

The two of them got changed and entered the ward. The night doctor and nurses were already busy inside.

Compared to the ICU, patients here weren’t in quite as severe shape. Still, a lapse in attention could mean the difference between life and death.

Suctioning airways, changing dressings, constantly monitoring vitals—blood pressure, oxygen, heart rate, respiration—those were the basics.

They’d also record urine output, color, or temperature and blood pressure every fifteen or thirty minutes.

Pumping meds, feeding through a nasal tube—these were routine here too.

Patients here usually fell into two groups: those who needed post-op monitoring in a sterile environment or those too ill for surgery and needing close observation.

Like car crashes, high falls, or sudden puncture injuries.

Doctors would only consider surgery after making sure the patient could survive it or if bleeding had stabilized. Otherwise, they’d have to treat and monitor first, hoping to eventually create a chance for surgery.

“It’s this patient—had some problems after surgery two days ago.”

Associate Director He led Zhou Can to bed 3.

The patient’s oxygen levels were still dangerously low and each breath was a struggle. Bubbles kept spilling into the drainage tube.

Especially when the patient coughed, things got much worse.

“Today’s just the second day after surgery, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Did the drainage start right after the operation?”

“That’s right!”

“Any signs of emphysema or pulmonary fibrosis?”

“There’s mild emphysema.”

Director He answered honestly.

“Come on, let’s discuss outside.”

After checking the patient, Zhou Can and Associate Director He retreated to the consultation room adjacent to the monitoring ward.

“Let me take a look at the patient’s records—ideally together with the surgery notes. This case feels tricky. Normally, with patients like this, air leaks stop on their own within two or three days of drainage. But judging from what I just saw when the patient coughed, that leak’s pretty severe. In my experience, I doubt it’ll close up even if he stays in here for a week.”

Zhou Can was especially thankful for his time working in critical care.

And for all those days learning from Dr. Hu Kan.

He’d built up a wealth of experience treating critical cases.

“I feel the same way. I’ve been getting anxious seeing the leak isn’t fading at all—I just want to get to retirement without a disaster.” Associate Director He said, clearly worried.

He’d already prepared the patient’s full chart and printed the surgical record, just in case.

Zhou Can browsed through each paper carefully, analyzing the details.

Sometimes, other ICU doctors would pop in for a quick snack or to discuss challenging cases.

But with Associate Director He’s status, no one dared interrupt them.

These days, Zhou Can was basically the ‘Buddha’ of cardiothoracic surgery.

Whenever trouble arose, the attending surgeons would call on him for help. Only after he struck out would they think about consulting another department.

Time ticked by slowly.

Zhou Can stayed deep in thought, his brow tightly knit—the patient’s case was a real puzzle.

Director He sat nearby, ready to answer questions, and the two of them dug into the diagnosis together.

“If we can rule out pulmonary hypoplasia, no significant pleural adhesions, and no pleural tears during surgery, then there’s just one possibility left.” After weighing and discussing all the details, Zhou Can finally settled on the cause of the leak.

Director He was so anxious, seeing Zhou Can hesitate like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

“Dr. Zhou, don’t hold back. Just say it. My feelings don’t matter.”

He’d read Zhou Can’s expression—it was likely a surgical misstep had caused the complication.

Zhou Can was hesitating only because he didn’t want to offend him.

“Alright then, but you have to promise not to take it personally.”

“No offense taken—honestly! I’m grateful for your help tracking down the problem, not upset.”

Director He quickly reassured him.

“The patient had lung cancer, so they did a left lower lobectomy and lymph node dissection. I’ve seen you perform these before, so I have no doubt about the lobectomy itself. That only leaves the lymph node removal—it’s possible the cleaning was too aggressive.”

His thinking was focused and clear.

“You think maybe we missed a lymph node? That can’t be. My assistant and I checked twice at the time—we made sure nothing slipped through, even went broader just to be safe.”

Associate Director He dismissed that theory.

“It’s not that you missed one… more like, in the quest for thoroughness, you might have gone too far and damaged the lung tissue itself, causing the leak.”

Zhou Can’s hesitation all along had been because, in a way, he was criticizing Director He’s surgical technique.

No one likes to be called out on their mistakes.

Associate Director He was a respected senior, a department chief, and had decades of experience in thoracic surgery—lung cancer resection was his specialty. Questioning a master’s skill in this field was bound to sting.

“Well… I suppose it’s possible. During the lymph node dissection, I did go deeper than usual, just to prevent recurrence.”

Director He’s face flickered through several emotions, but he had to face facts.

He’d never actually run into this problem before.

At least, not that he was aware of. Maybe in the past it healed gradually, just with a longer drainage time.

“So what’s the best treatment now?”

Director He felt embarrassed.

Luckily, this wasn’t the first time he’d had to ask Zhou Can for help—his skin was a bit thicker these days.

No one gets to his age with a fragile ego.

“My guess is the patient’s emphysema is making it hard for the remaining lung to inflate. We can try low negative pressure closed thoracic drainage, which should help the pleural layers stick together. After that, either subcutaneous puncture or a small skin incision to let out trapped air. It should take about a week. If you go the puncture route, I can do it myself.”

He didn’t want Director He making another mistake out of worry or carelessness.

Subcutaneous puncture isn’t tough, but Director He tended to rush—and with how flustered he was, one slip could make things even worse.

“Sure, let’s do what Dr. Zhou suggested. I’ll leave the puncture up to you.”

Director He agreed without hesitation.

His pride was long gone—keeping the patient safe was his only concern now. If they didn’t act fast, a respiratory failure could turn deadly.

…

It was close to 1 a.m. when Zhou Can finally dragged himself home.

With the hospital so far from Baying Lake, Zhou Can knew things couldn’t go on like this.

He talked with Su Qianqian about maybe buying a place near the hospital.

The main Tuyu Hospital was right in the city center, where every inch cost a fortune. Villas were almost impossible to come by.

Even when you found one, almost nobody was willing to sell.

But owning a villa would definitely beat living in a high-rise.

Plus, even though Su Qianqian had scaled back her career, her fame still made her a target. Her safety was always top of Zhou Can’s mind.

Their caution over the years had kept them out of trouble.

After discussing it, Su Qianqian agreed. They’d start searching for a standalone villa near the hospital.

When it comes to these things, leave it to the pros.

House-hunting through an agency was their best bet.

Buying a new villa in the old part of town? Not a chance.

No developer would be that foolish—the cost of demolition and buying the land would make it unprofitable.

Securing a villa near the hospital wouldn’t just solve their wedding housing, it would also save Zhou Can hours of commuting.

The next day at work, Zhou Can started with his rounds in the Emergency Department, then headed to pediatrics for his clinic shift.

Word was his pediatrics clinic appointments were even harder to get than those with the old professors.

Usually, special expert appointments started at three hundred yuan, but Zhou Can’s only cost twelve.

More importantly, his cure and improvement rates were way above average. After nearly two years, his reputation in pediatrics was no surprise.

Children with tough cases from major hospitals would sometimes find a cure or real progress under his care.

Or at the very least, stable and improved symptoms.

Many chronic illnesses needed lifetime medication, so just controlling the disease was considered a win.

For instance, kids who’d had cardiovascular surgery would need lifelong anticoagulants—no doctor could change that.

No expert could treat them and make those drugs unnecessary.

On his way to pediatrics, Director Xueyan called.

“Sis Yan, you’re not calling me in to resuscitate another dying patient, are you?”

“Haha! Every time you see my name pop up, your heart must race! It’s always surgery, a consult, or emergency care.” She laughed heartily.

“Not so bad! But you sound so cheerful, there must be good news today—not a medical emergency.”

Zhou Can had never minded pitching in for the cardiothoracic team.

He was, after all, Dr. Hu Kan’s protégé, and was entrusted by him, even after his death, to help Director Xueyan with the department.

Plus, every time he helped out, he learned a ton and gained valuable surgical experience.

He was always happy to help.

“You really are sharp! You guessed it. Here’s the good news—the child with Tetralogy of Fallot from last night made it through the critical period after surgery and is now stable on all fronts. That’s proof the surgery was a complete success. If things keep going well for the next week, there’ll be no further worries! It means our cardiothoracic team can finally perform these surgeries again after more than a year.”

She couldn’t hide her excitement.