Chapter 185: Thoracic-Abdominal Surgery

A doctor came over with a mercury sphygmomanometer. “Young man, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Zheng Ren opened his eyes. They were clear and focused.

The doctor relaxed, as Zheng Ren could still speak coherently, but he measured his blood pressure anyways.

It was slightly below average.

“Come, we’ll go to the other operating room. The orthopedic surgeon and hand surgeon will have a look at the wound,” a young nurse said. “Lean on me so you don’t fall.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Zheng Ren shut his eyes and forced a smile.

Zheng Ren knew he had to leave the sterile room as soon as possible. He had already violated standard operating procedure due to the emergency nature of the situation.

Once the surgery was done, Fang Lin would have to battle bouts of infection.

A bottle of iodophor was not equivalent to a sterile surgical setting.

After he left, the surgical team would have to perform another round of sterilization to prevent contamination.

It was vital for a successful emergency trauma surgery.

He had done all he could.

He would leave the rest to fate.

Leaning against the wall for support, Zheng Ren stood and felt a wave of nausea hit him. The rush during the emergency rescue had resulted in elevated hormone levels.

Once he was no longer required to be in a state of heightened awareness, the pain and soreness made themselves felt. His injured shoulder was especially bad. The slightest movement sent jolts of pain up his arm.

‘Hopefully it’s nothing major,’ Zheng Ren thought.

At this point, he realized the System display at the upper right corner of his vision showed nothing about his status.

Zheng Ren’s thoughts raced like a wild horse. Could this System not evaluate his own body?

His frustration lasted only a second before his body fell limp and he lost the strength to even stand.

He leaned hard against the operating door and breathed heavily.

The young nurse helped Zheng Ren out of the room.

“Over there.” She guided Zheng Ren to the operating room next door. They went in and she switched on the surgical light.

The nurse helped him lay down on the operating table. A pained smile graced his face.

He had never imagined a day would come where he would be the one lying on the operating table under the surgical light.

“Which hospital are you from? Your emergency rescue techniques are amazing!” The young nurse gave him a thumbs up.

Most people would be frightened at the bloody scene but this was an operating room in one of the best Class Three Grade A Hospitals nationwide. Its employees were used to gore.

From the rate of blood flow and Zheng Ren’s mental state, the young nurse determined that it was not a fatal injury.

Out of habit, she chatted to relieve the patient’s tension.

She was incredibly impressed by the man’s quick decision that saved Fang Lin.

“Sea City.”

The nurse stared blankly at him, as if she had never heard of the city. “I saw the 50ml syringe. Did he have a tension pneumothorax?”

“Yes.” Zheng Ren had to force his eyes shut as the surgical light was blinding. He said slowly, “Ruptured liver, penetration trauma. Ruptured diaphragm, trauma right lower lobe of the lung, ruptured bronchial artery, tension pneumothorax. He needs a large-volume transfusion. If possible, the thoracic surgery should go hand in hand.”

Hearing the familiar instructions, the nurse stared at the stranger from an unknown city hospital.

“Tell them the closed chest drainage system is insufficient,” Zheng Ren mumbled. “Now!”

His voice was low but demanding.

It was the voice of a department chief, the kind that did not like to repeat themselves. A lenient department chief would never say such things in an operating room[1].

Zheng Ren’s tone reminded the nurse of old and virtuous professors. She nodded without hesitation and left the operating room.

Entering the operating room next door, she quickly repeated Zheng Ren’s words verbatim, worried that any delay on her part might affect the surgery’s success.

Zheng Ren laid still on the operating table. It was a bit chilly and the surgical light was truly a pain in his eyes.

He waited in silence, hoping for an update from next door.

A few minutes passed and the young nurse returned. “When I went in, the thoracic surgeon was laying down surgical drapes to start his operation. I’ve told them what you told me.”

A soft mumble of affirmation left Zheng Ren’s mouth as he closed his eyes. Finally, he could relax.

Not long after, two doctors entered his operating room and started to give him medical attention.

Silence filled the chamber. It seemed that was the norm here.

Zheng Ren did not like it.

He liked Xie Yiren’s quirky eyebrows and the synchrony they had when working at the operating table.

He liked Chu Yanzhi’s fiery spirit that cheered them on.

He liked Chu Yanran’s quiet attentiveness at the head of the operating table, recording patients’ vital signs and medication dosage.

He liked Chang Yue’s genuine conversations with patients.

He liked… Even that sharp-tongued nancy boy, Su Yun, was more familiar than this.

They were a beacon of hope amidst a bloody battlefield.

“How’s the surgery going?” Zheng Ren asked suddenly.

“No harm to the bone. Just some damage beneath the skin,” answered one of the doctors who were treating him.

However, the doctor knew Zheng Ren was actually asking about the surgery next door.

Had it been any other patient, the doctor would have ignored the question. However, he knew Zheng Ren was the man who had performed the needle thoracostomy on Fang Lin.

“Hey! Someone from outside,” the doctor called out.

“Yes?” one of the patrolling nurses replied.

“How’s the situation next door?” the doctor asked.

“Thoracic and abdominal are ongoing. The bronchial artery has been sealed; they’re now fixing the ruptured lung and diaphragm. The general surgeon is fixing the liver. Systolic blood pressure detectable at 50,” the nurse replied from the door then left.

“They’re doing good,” the doctor said to Zheng Ren.

Zheng Ren nodded.

A detectable blood pressure was the best news they could hope for.

The bleeding was under control. Coupled with blood and fluid transfusion, Fang Lin stood a chance at surviving this ordeal.

Of course, it was just a chance. Postsurgical care was key to full recovery from such a grievous injury.

Zheng Ren trusted the capabilities of the hospital’s personnel. After all, this was the country’s top hospital. If one did not survive here, it was simply fate.

Ten minutes later, Zheng Ren’s shoulder was stitched up.

As he had been dressed for the winter cold, the force behind the attacker’s swing had been dampened by the thick fabric. The damage to his shoulder was mostly external.

With his wound bandaged, the doctor helped Zheng Ren up and brought him out to the hospital corridor.

“Let me take you to the admissions lounge,” the doctor said.

“No. I’ll stay here, by the operating room,” Zheng Ren said curtly.

[1] I am unsure what the author is referring to here, whether it’s giving orders to other surgeons on how to do their jobs or giving orders while being a patient.

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