Chapter 82: Crisis on the Metro

The youngest one was a female nurse. It was hard to tell if she was still in training or had already become a full nurse—she clearly hadn’t been working long.

The other woman, around thirty, appeared to be a resident doctor.

She seemed to be pushing for an attending position.

As for the man, his identity was unclear, but he was known to be a doctor of high rank.

Both the nurse and the doctor were busy flattering him.

The metro whizzed along.

Compared to buses or taxis, it was faster, unburdened by traffic, and took more direct routes.

And so, one station after another passed by.

Passengers kept boarding and alighting.

Suddenly, a call for help rang out from a crew member over the intercom.

“Dear passengers, a child has suddenly collapsed and is convulsing in Carriage 3. Immediate assistance is required. Medical personnel or anyone trained in first aid, please head to Carriage 3 at once. All other passengers, please clear the way. Thank you!”

Accidents on trains, planes, and metros were nothing new.

Zhou Can hadn’t expected to run into one today.

The three medical staff ahead of him, upon hearing the announcement, leaped up and dashed toward Carriage 3.

Zhou Can deeply admired their prompt action.

Being just a junior trainee doctor himself, he decided not to rush but followed them into Carriage 3.

Before they could even enter, a tearful cry rang out.

“Please save my grandson! I beg you, save him!”

An elderly woman was distraught, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m a doctor from Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2. Let me see your grandson!”

That male doctor was, in fact, from Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2.

This revelation left Zhou Can greatly surprised.

No wonder the three seemed to have just finished their shift together.

The establishment of Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2 was meant not only to ease the load at Tuyu Hospital but also to serve other interests.

For instance, it provided positions for veteran doctors whose skills were no longer at their peak.

Only by moving those who occupied positions without contributing much in skills or academia could fresh talent be introduced to keep Tuyu competitive.

Moreover, creating Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2 boosted Tuyu’s reputation.

Some experimental projects that struggled at the main hospital could now be piloted there.

If things went wrong, it wouldn’t severely impact the main hospital’s reputation.

In recent years, the oncology department at Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2 had made remarkable progress.

In the carriage, a child, barely four or five years old, lay on the floor with a bluish tint, nearly comatose. Despite calls and shoulder taps, there was no response.

“Everyone, please step back. Let the air circulate around the child.”

The female nurse quickly dispersed the gawking onlookers.

She looked very professional.

Noticing Zhou Can standing still, she frowned slightly.

It seemed she recognized that he was from the same carriage.

“Sir, please step back. It’s best if you return to your original carriage rather than just watching,” she instructed.

Zhou Can opened his mouth to explain but swallowed his words.

He quietly moved to the side.

After all, the nurse clearly wasn’t interested in hearing his explanation.

At that moment, a crew member arrived to help maintain order.

After examining the child, the male doctor’s expression turned grave.

“Ma’am, please stop crying. Tell me—how did your grandson lose consciousness?”

“I…I don’t really know. He was playing fine, then suddenly clutched below his neck and collapsed. I rushed over to ask him, but he just kept shaking his head in pain, looking terrified.”

The elderly woman recounted what had happened.

Isn’t the area just below the neck where the heart is?

The symptoms could indicate food choking, heart disease, or even epilepsy.

“Does he have a history of heart disease, like a congenital condition?”

The male doctor re-examined the child, even checking his mouth.

He was essentially ruling out a food obstruction.

Yet, nothing significant was found.

He began to suspect a cardiac issue.

“The child’s grandfather has heart disease, but he’s so young—shouldn’t he be fine? Doctor, please, I beg you, save my grandson… I beg you…”

Desperate, the elderly woman knelt and kowtowed before the doctor.

“Ma’am, please calm down. Dr. Shangguan is asking the right questions to diagnose the issue quickly so we can save your grandson,” reassured the female doctor as she supported the woman.

“Does the child’s father have heart disease?”

The male doctor asked again.

“Would coronary heart disease count?”

The old woman, now slumped on the floor, thought for a moment before replying.

“Yes!”

The male doctor’s eyes lit up as his expression grew determined.

Both the grandfather and father had a history of heart disease.

Such a family history was a crucial clue in the diagnosis.

“I found almost no heartbeat or breathing when I examined the child. I immediately started CPR. I suspect your grandson has an inherited heart condition. Sun Qian, call 120 and get the nearest emergency department ready.”

After his instructions, the male doctor laid the child down and began CPR.

This was the most common resuscitation technique.

It was typically used when a patient suddenly loses consciousness and both heartbeat and breathing cease.

Successful resuscitation is optimal within four minutes—beyond thirty minutes, recovery is nearly impossible.

Generally, after more than four minutes without heartbeat and breathing, the brain suffers irreversible damage from lack of oxygen.

The longer the delay, the worse the prognosis.

Even if resuscitation succeeds, survivors might face intellectual disabilities or even become vegetative.

Medically, those four minutes are considered golden.

Dr. Shangguan’s CPR technique was exceptionally professional.

He alternated thirty chest compressions with rescue breaths.

However, after two cycles, the child still showed no sign of recovery.

The child’s grandmother began to wail uncontrollably.

Dr. Shangguan’s expression grew even tenser as he pressed harder.

Zhou Can watched intently from a short distance.

The child’s face, once bluish, had turned a dark, ominous purple.

He stepped forward again, wanting a closer look.

He inspected the child’s fingertips, toes, tongue, and more.

“What’s your problem? Can’t you see we’re trying to save the child? Stop gawking!”

The female nurse, now truly angry at Zhou Can’s repeated approach, snapped.

The resuscitation wasn’t progressing, and his interference was only making matters worse.

“I’m a doctor too. I thought that since the rescue wasn’t moving forward, maybe I could help—that’s all,” Zhou Can explained.

“Which hospital are you from?”

The female nurse asked, puffing out her chest.

Not to show off, but because she was genuinely proud to be a nurse at Tuyu Affiliated Hospital No.2.

Tuyu was currently the leading medical institution in the province.

Those at the affiliated hospital never saw themselves as merely an offshoot of Tuyu—they considered themselves integral to it.

Pride and confidence were deeply embedded in their very bones.

“Tuyu Hospital,” Zhou Can replied coolly.

Yet his eyes stayed fixed on the child’s fingers, examining them closely.

The fingertips were turning blue, with the nails especially discolored.

“Are you a doctor from Tuyu Hospital too?” the female nurse exclaimed in surprise.

Even Dr. Shangguan, who was in the midst of resuscitating the child, and the female doctor Sun Qian all turned to look at Zhou Can.

After all, the name ‘Tuyu’ was a golden guarantee in the province’s medical field.