The Godfather of Surgery

It was Zhang Lin's turn to work the night shift.

"Tonight, we're on night duty. Get here early, eat well! The emergency cases pile up at night," Zhang Lin, with a tone of authority, instructed.

"Got it! You said early, so it's early. Now you're the big shot, guess we have no choice but to follow you," the younger doctors replied.

The shift change was at 5:30 PM.

Yang Ping arrived at 4:00 PM, had a bowl of Lanzhou beef noodles with beef and a fried egg, which was enough to fill him up. He also brought a bucket of instant noodles just in case.

"Dr. Zhang, you brought a new intern again?" The duty nurse greeted, as she leaned on the marble counter of the nurse's station, chatting with Zhang Lin playfully.

Yang Ping looked young and had been working for a few years, yet people still often mistook him for a recent graduate.

"Not an intern, he's a new doctor. The director asked me to mentor him for a while," Zhang Lin said proudly, his voice rising in pitch.

"Dr. Zhang, you're so impressive, even taking on doctors to mentor," the nurse complimented.

"Then treat us! We're on shift tonight!" Zhang Lin replied.

"How about some Heytea? How many cups?" the nurse asked with a smile.

"Four of us—two doctors on duty, two intern nurses," the nurse added cheerfully.

It was an old tradition: during the shift, the doctors would treat the nurses to a drink to keep them from ringing the bell every time a patient sneezed.

"Hey, Yang—Yang Ping! Come here!" Zhang Lin waved his hand.

Yang Ping thought Zhang Lin was about to introduce a nurse to him, but instead, Zhang Lin said, "Five cups of Heytea. Will you have one? No? Then make it six."

"I don't drink, I'll just watch you guys," Yang Ping muttered to himself. Well, if I'm treating, I'm treating. I'm not stingy.

Yang Ping quickly took out his phone to order, but when he saw that the cheapest Heytea was over ten yuan a cup, he thought it would be a few bucks per cup. It didn't matter; it wasn't a big deal. Not like I'm short on cash.

Seeing Yang Ping so generous, Zhang Lin, who often bullied him, suddenly felt a little guilty. He said, "Take a break. Don't rush on the patient's files. You can fill them in slowly."

This was the most normal thing Yang Ping had heard from Zhang Lin in a while. A few days ago, he had acted like Yang Ping owed him millions, his face contorted like a liver.

Doctors in the inpatient department really did work hard. The pressure was high, the pay was low, and they spent nearly twenty-four hours a day circling around the wards, which sometimes made them act a little insane. Yang Ping understood, so he didn't say much.

"Tonight is definitely going to be a peaceful night!" one of the intern nurses laughed as she sipped her Heytea.

"Pi-pi-pi, you jinxed it!" Zhang Lin stomped his feet, pretending to spit on the ground.

There was a rule among doctors: you shouldn't speak too confidently. For example, saying, "I've never had an infection from any of my surgeries," or "I definitely won't admit any patients tonight," or "None of my patients will cause trouble"—legend had it, as soon as you said those things, it would immediately happen.

"How's your mentor teaching you? Didn't they teach you the basic rules?" Zhang Lin shot a side-eye at the senior nurse.

The senior nurse immediately replied, "Fine, fine! Today, I'll give you a few replantations of severed fingers, how's that?"

Severed finger replantation surgery was tiring and time-consuming. Some doctors were a little afraid of it, and if they got a patient like that during their shift, they'd be stuck with it all night.

A few minutes later, the phone at the nurse's station rang, and everyone exchanged glances. Could it be? The senior nurse picked up the phone. "Hello, this is the orthopedics department. Urgent consultation? What kind of patient? Severed finger?"

Damn! Zhang Lin's eyes nearly shot fire.

The nurse gently placed the phone down, shrugged her shoulders, and said, "No choice. You heard it, right? Emergency, urgent consultation—severed finger!"

"Is this for real?" Zhang Lin, barely containing his anger, stood up and gently patted the young nurse on the shoulder. "I'm impressed with you guys."

He then turned to Yang Ping and said, "You stay in the ward. I'll go down and check. Wait for me. Maybe they've misdiagnosed it as a severed finger when it's actually an open fracture."

Zhang Lin fixed his hair and headed for the emergency elevator.

About ten minutes later, Zhang Lin's phone rang.

"It's a real severed finger. Right thumb, cut by a cutting machine—severed into two pieces. Preparing for emergency surgery."

The young nurse looked like she was about to cry.

Her innocent expression seemed to say, "It's not my fault!"

After hanging up, a photo came through on WeChat: the right thumb had been sliced into two pieces, gruesome and painful to look at. The severed pieces lay on a white gauze, making them appear even more glaring.

In the department, three people were capable of performing a severed finger replantation: Director Han, Director Tian, and Song Zimo. The others were just beginners. However, Director Han and Song Zimo were both at a meeting, leaving only Director Tian.

"I just called Director Tian. He said he'll arrange the surgery first. He's on his way," Zhang Lin said. "You go straight to the operating room. The blood test, ECG, and pre-surgery exams have been done. I'm handling the consultation and signatures. I'll join you in the operating room right away."

For urgent surgeries like this, the patient could go through the "green channel" for surgery right away without needing to be admitted first. This saved time. The pre-surgery preparations were done in the emergency department, and after the consultation and signatures, the patient would be sent directly to the operating room for surgery. They'd be admitted to the ward afterward.

Yang Ping instructed the nurse to have the preparation team check the ward, then went to check on a few critically ill patients to ensure they were stable. He took the emergency elevator straight to the operating room, changed into slippers, put on the surgical gown, mask, and cap.

The operating room was brightly lit. There was a cesarean section, an appendectomy, a chest surgery for a pneumothorax, and a neurosurgery for a craniotomy. The sounds were chaotic—screams like a frog croaking—this was the gynecology department performing a C-section.

The automatic doors opened, but the patient hadn't arrived yet. Yang Ping waited in the operating room while the circulating nurse began preparing the instruments.

About ten minutes later, the nurse pushed the patient in, and Zhang Lin entered, dressed in his surgical attire.

A small freezer for preserving the severed fingers was placed on an instrument cart. Yang Ping opened it and saw that the cut wasn't even.

"Where's Director Tian? Is he not here yet?" The circulating nurse asked anxiously.

Zhang Lin, feeling embarrassed by the nurse's tone, snapped, "Just start the irrigation!"

As a senior doctor, Zhang Lin didn't do the basic tasks of disinfection and draping for first-line shifts. The younger doctors handled those tasks while he prepared the conversation and signatures. This was the usual procedure.

Yang Ping helped lift the patient's hand while Zhang Lin put on gloves and began irrigating the wound and the severed fingers. Saline solution, hydrogen peroxide, saline solution, and iodine antiseptic—two rounds of irrigation.

"Hold the hand steady! I'm going to wash up," Zhang Lin instructed.

The instrument nurse was already scrubbed and dressed. The sterile instrument table was set up, with the tools neatly arranged in specific areas, the frequently used ones within easy reach.

Once Zhang Lin finished scrubbing, he sanitized his hands again and, with the instrument nurse, laid the sterile drapes. After another round of disinfection, they put on surgical gowns. He instructed Yang Ping to wash up and help out in the operating room.

Everything was ready. The two of them, dressed in surgical gowns, sat face to face and waited. Director Tian still hadn't arrived.

"Let's start with debridement," Zhang Lin said, his face a bit stiff, the earlier confidence he'd put on starting to waver.

Irrigation—debridement—irrigation again!

A 1.0 K-wire, electric drill!

The sound of the miniature electric drill filled the air as the two ends of the severed bone were fixed together with cross K-wires.

The microscope was rolled in, adjusted, and once it was set up, the field of vision finally cleared.

The patient's hand was secured to prevent it from moving and interfering with the surgery. The preparation work was done, and the critical part—finding and anastomosing the blood vessels—was next.

Zhang Lin could only perform basic tasks under the microscope. He wasn't skilled enough to handle the delicate vascular suturing. At this point, he stopped and said, "Let's wait for Director Tian."

"Been over an hour. Where is he?" The circulating nurse whispered in Zhang Lin's ear. The other surgeries could wait