Chapter 524: Sparks in the Operating Room

“Isn’t this like being the away team?”

Zhou Can forced a sheepish smile, about to scratch his head, but caught himself. With gloves on, he had to keep everything sterile, so he quickly dropped his hand.

Besides, with that surgical cap hugging his head, there was no way he could scratch it anyway.

The anesthesiologist held considerable authority, and Director Ming Xin was Director Xiang Fei’s mentor—which meant her status was even higher. Zhou Can wouldn’t dare get on her wrong side.

Thanks to the opportunity to help save Deputy Director Lu, Zhou Can had gotten to know several heavyweights from the Provincial People’s Hospital and treasured it immensely.

Anyone willing to lead their team into that operating room today was clearly driven by the same mission as he was. To save lives, they’d take huge risks without hesitation.

That kind of dedication took medical ethics to another level.

Zhou Can was always eager to befriend medical staff like this.

After all, tiny streams merge into mighty rivers. Only by banding together with more like-minded doctors and nurses could he truly achieve something great down the line. This, too, was a building of connections.

“Away team or not, asking you to join the surgery meant we already saw you as one of us. Everyone here is rowing the same boat, especially in a crisis. Whatever the danger, everyone’s got to step up and take responsibility.”

Director Ming Xin, still on edge, gave Zhou Can quite the lecture before finally dropping it.

Not that she meant any harm.

“Being scolded by a senior or the Attending Nurse in the operating room? In this line of work, that’s about as normal as it gets. Sometimes tensions even flare up so much, the chief surgeon and anesthesiologist go at each other, loud and red-faced right there in the OR.”

In the end, everyone just wanted the best possible outcome for their patient. Plans might differ, but the goal always stays the same.

“You said it yourself! So, would it be too bold of me to ask Director Gou to let me handle the rest of the procedure?” Zhou Can glanced at Director Gou Qiong.

For this laparoscopic surgery, Director Gou was actually the chief surgeon. His say carried the most weight.

“No problem. I’ll assist you. If anything seems off, I’ll call a stop immediately. If you find the risk too high while operating, talk to me first.” Director Gou had just watched Zhou Can perform incredible hemostasis and anastomosis. His trust in Zhou Can went way up.

Even so, as he handed over authority, Gou Qiong still left a little warning, just in case—to keep Zhou Can from making any reckless moves.

He still wasn’t fully reassured and looked to Director Wu Yongming from Neurosurgery.

“Old Wu, keep an eye on things for me, will you? Double-check everything—let’s not let anything slip. We couldn’t bear the consequences if something went wrong.”

“Got it!”

Director Wu gave a crisp reply, not wasting a word.

He even moved to stand right beside Zhou Can.

With those two shields in place, Director Gou felt much more at ease.

The surgery continued.

Zhou Can worked the endoscope, patching up the ruptured spleen with swift, precise motions.

If you asked which organ in the human body was most fragile—

Brain tissue isn’t really an organ, but it’s certainly among the most delicate tissues. The spleen, though, is considered the weakest among the organs, even more so than the kidneys.

Contrary to popular belief, the eyes are actually tough in comparison to many body parts.

Sure, the vitreous and eye membranes are tender and usually exposed just beneath the surface—but that’s mostly why people think eyes are delicate.

In reality, eyes are far tougher than most of us imagine—they hold up surprisingly well.

Fixing the spleen is a real test of a surgeon’s suturing and ligature technique.

Luckily, Zhou Can’s ligature skill had reached level six. Otherwise, repairing this spleen would have been a serious challenge.

Endoscope arm in hand, Zhou Can cleaned the wound, stitched, and tied knots in one seamless flow—fast enough to make every observer inwardly applaud.

In under ten minutes, he’d already finished repairing the spleen.

It looked just like a piece of shattered porcelain restored to perfection, flawless and whole before everyone’s eyes.

Truth be told, surgical repairs make fixing porcelain seem like child’s play.

You can always piece porcelain shards back together with patience and care, but living organs have to stay alive, recover full—or at least most—of their function after repair.

It’s a technical minefield few can cross.

“The spleen repair is basically done. Make sure the patient’s spleen gets special care for at least the next week. Let it recover well—not too much rest, but don’t overwork it either.”

After finishing with the spleen, Zhou Can issued instructions to the Attending Nurse.

That counted as a form of verbal medical order, too.

No matter how beautiful the surgery, if the aftercare or nutrition didn’t keep up, the effort was wasted.

Having monitored post-op patients so many times in the Emergency Department, Zhou Can knew just how crucial nursing and nutrition really were.

Botched care or poor nutrition—either one could spike the odds of post-operative complications.

It could also drag out the recovery period by a mile.

“Nurse Lian, make sure Dr. Zhou’s instructions go in the record and are followed to the letter.” Director Gou noticed the Attending Nurse was taking Zhou Can lightly and quickly stepped in.

When it came to post-op care and nutritional support, Tuyu Hospital actually set the standard within the province.

Probably only the Provincial Children’s Hospital could even compete on that level.

Every top-tier hospital in the province still had its strengths—and weaknesses.

For instance, Tuyu’s strong nursing department dated back to the very founding, when it was called the Women’s Hospital, mainly serving officials’ wives, daughters, and postnatal women.

Those skilled nursing techniques were passed down and continually improved, attracting more similar patients. Over time, the snowball effect led to today’s standards.

Same deal for Tuyu’s Internal Medicine Department. Years ago, a brilliant doctor returned from overseas and established the department, starting with Pulmonary Medicine and gradually expanding. These days, they covered every sub-specialty.

Even now, Tuyu’s Pulmonary Medicine Department remained a leader.

There’s also a tradition: most of Tuyu’s department heads in Internal Medicine liked to dabble in traditional Chinese medicine, often mixing it into their diagnoses and treatments.

That was a kind of professional inheritance, too.

All top hospitals survived and thrived thanks to generations passing down and expanding their expertise.

If a hospital could only pass down one or two specialties, it was left vulnerable—easily outmatched by the competition.

Look at Xinxiang Maternity and Child Hospital: it’s been around for over seventy years.

But with its sole focus on obstetrics, pediatrics and gynecology never took off. One incident nearly drove it to bankruptcy.

Tuyu Hospital, meanwhile, had Cardiothoracic Surgery as a signature department. Even when Director Hu Kan passed and the department fell on hard times—

It nearly dropped from top tier to third-rate.

But the hospital itself didn’t actually take a major hit.

That’s because Tuyu had several other powerhouse departments backing it up.

That’s the kind of foundation a historic, elite hospital is built upon.

You can’t just import a Japanese expert, buy fancy machines, and leapfrog up to that. Even Xinxiang Hospital might look strong right now—

But beneath the surface, it’s just puffed up and hollow.

Without decades—better yet, centuries—of substance, it’s like a tree with no roots.

One gust and it could topple over.

“Understood.”

The Attending Nurse straightened up at Director Gou’s words and diligently recorded everything for follow-through after surgery.

Zhou Can, for his part, didn’t care about a nurse’s cold shoulder.

Respect was something you earned with real skill.

Some circulating nurses saw themselves as seasoned veterans, having watched countless surgeries led by every big shot. They’d witnessed enough high-level and difficult operations to become jaded.

Whatever Zhou Can had just pulled off didn’t even make them bat an eye.

Really, that attitude was a bit too shallow.

Maybe Zhou Can wasn’t the absolute best of the best, but his spleen repair just now was nothing to sneeze at.

There might be a handful of doctors nationwide with that ability—within the province, though, it was rare as a phoenix feather.

And to top it off, laparoscopic surgery was already harder than any traditional operation.

Once Zhou Can finished with the spleen, Deputy Director Lu’s vitals got dramatically better.

“The patient’s blood pressure drop has nearly stopped. If it holds, we can extend the surgery a lot longer. His heart rate’s coming down too—great signs all around.”

It was amazing—such a tiny organ could make or break the whole system.

At the end of the day, it was mainly the splenic vessel rupture causing all that internal bleeding. That alone had put Lu’s life in immediate danger.

Director Ming Xin’s words were like a jolt of confidence for Director Gou and the others.

Seeing the patient steadily turn a corner had the whole team feeling reinvigorated.

This was the first real achievement since the surgery began.

Zhou Can didn’t say much, staying focused on guiding the endoscope to check suspected injuries in the pancreas.

When the scope reached the pancreas, he spotted some fluid pooling—another sign of bleeding, though thankfully it looked minor and was self-limiting.

“Director Gou, could you help lift the pancreas just a bit? I suspect the source is on the lower left. Go carefully—not too much or you might open the wound wider.”

He gave a careful reminder to Director Gou.

Moving the pancreas at all ran a risk—it was all too easy to tear open a wound that had already stopped bleeding.

Considering Deputy Director Lu’s vessel condition, it was bad news even if there weren’t already injuries; his blood vessels could tear anyway.

Director Gou handled the endoscopic technique well, lifting the pancreas with steady hands.

“Whoa, what the heck is that?”

“Looks like a tumor!”

“But it’s an odd-looking one, with blurry edges. We’d better get a rapid pathology exam during the surgery.”

As Director Gou lifted the pancreas on the monitor, a flurry of soft exclamations rang out among the crowd.

Eyes everywhere were wide with surprise.

Nobody expected to find a tumor lurking behind the pancreas, looking anything but benign.

Just like how a person’s character matches their looks—someone with a kind soul tends to look gentle and warm, while people with a dark heart can seem downright scary.

Even those with little life experience instinctively shy away from certain people, sensing something off about them.

A person’s vibe and appearance always tie back to what’s inside.

Books make men cultured, women insightful.

Scheming types, though, usually have muddy, shifty eyes. They’ve got no presence at all.

Zhou Can stared at the monitor a little longer, then shifted the endoscope angle, carefully observing.

“Never would have thought it was a pancreatic tumor—and it doesn’t look friendly. Director Gou, could you take a sample for rapid pathology? Then we can decide what to do next.”

This was the beauty of operating with friends—they’d always put the patient first.

With them, there was never a moment’s hesitation to do what was right.

Pancreatic cancer: the king of cancers. One of the most terrifying diagnosis anyone can get. The prognosis is abysmal, with the three-year survival rate shockingly low.

Early detection and surgical removal is the best shot anyone has.

If the tumor’s diameter is under 2 centimeters, it’s likely still at an early stage. Cut it out clean, and there’s real hope for a cure.

Based on a careful look and his own experience, Zhou Can figured Deputy Director Lu was lucky—this seemed like an early-stage case.

To the naked eye, no signs of spread.

Nearby lymph nodes and blood vessels also looked unaffected.

All of that was good news.

“Let’s talk to the family right away. Once they sign, we can take a sample for biopsy!”

Director Gou relented, agreeing—albeit reluctantly.

At this point, the top priority was still saving the patient’s life. Treating the pancreatic tumor hadn’t even been on the original surgical plan.

But since the tumor wasn’t small anymore and the pancreas itself was already injured, leaving it could prompt wild growth or rapid spread after the trauma.

If that happened, Deputy Director Lu would still meet the same tragic end—

Just with a slightly longer leash.

While the family was being briefed and signatures gathered, Zhou Can didn’t sit idle—he kept searching.

In the end, he found a spot where the pancreas had ruptured and bled, closely linked to the tumor. Everything else seemed fine.

He also checked the left kidney.

That injury was mild, potentially self-healing, but they’d need to watch out for nephritis.

Before long, word came from outside—the family had agreed and signed for surgery.

With that in the bag, nothing was holding them back.

Zhou Can quickly separated the entire tumor from the surrounding tissue and removed it.

His finesse especially in handling the blood vessels left every chief surgeon watching in awe.

None of them could claim they’d ever removed a tumor that cleanly.

“Who knew Dr. Zhou wasn’t just a master at vascular anastomosis and ligature, but could separate lesions so flawlessly? Incredibly impressive.”

“You’re too kind!”

With a deep breath, Zhou Can cleaned, stitched, and stopped the bleeding on the surgical wound. He checked all the nearby lymph and tissue again to be sure there was no trace of spreading, then finally wrapped things up.

Just like that, the laparoscopic surgery was essentially done.

The intraoperative pathology soon came back: over 90% chance it was a malignant tumor. Seeing that result, nearly everyone found themselves worrying for the patient.