top student at medical school

Chapter 299 What should we do? (Please subscribe)

This was Fang Ziye's third visit to the emergency department. Although it was a familiar place, it still felt somewhat unfamiliar to him.

The 'comfort' of the period when the master's degree was merged into the standardized training has completely disappeared. Now, every time Fang Ziye comes, he is definitely carrying a task. You can't feel the slightest bit of leisure and ease.

"There are no beds available," Fang Ziye explained loudly to the patient on the trolley.

The patient has already been diagnosed with an intermediate fracture, which, according to current guidelines, falls into the category of cases that can be treated with manual reduction or surgery. Either option is the best choice.

Under such circumstances, Fang Ziye naturally recommended manual reduction therapy as his first choice.

However, whether the other party felt that Fang Ziye was too young or believed that there was a third party responsible for his fracture, they insisted on hospitalization and surgery, and even wanted a professor to examine him.

"How can such a big hospital like yours not have beds? What will the other patients sleep on if there are no beds?" He lay on the trolley, holding onto the guardrails on both sides of the trolley with both hands, his face full of disbelief, spittle flying up and landing on his face in an arc.

He quickly wiped his left hand, his eyes glaring at Fang Ziye like a bull.

"When I said there were no beds, I meant there were no available hospital beds!"

“All the beds in our department are occupied right now, and your condition is not life-threatening, so the hospital certainly won’t go through the emergency room procedure to make room for you,” Fang Ziye explained frankly.

Whether a hospital has beds or not is relative.

For a minor emergency, such as a two-centimeter cut on a finger, you might have to wait up to ten days at Zhongnan Hospital.

But if the King of Hell wants to meet you in two hours, the operating table will be your bed.

"I don't care, I came to the emergency room, so your hospital is responsible for arranging a bed for me. Where can you go to the emergency room and not be given a bed?" The patient's attire suggested he was a migrant worker; his right shoe was still covered in cement dust, indicating he had come from a construction site.

However, this man was the least down-to-earth migrant worker Fang Ziye had ever treated in recent years.

Perhaps not all migrant workers are honest and simple.

"The emergency room you saw was only what you understand as an emergency room; what you experienced was a sub-emergency."

"In a real emergency, there isn't even time to register you."

"Uncle, I won't waste any more time with you. Given your current situation, you only have two choices."

"First, you go to the outpatient clinic. If the professor there thinks you need surgery, he will give you an inpatient admission certificate. You will then wait in line for admission, which may take about a month before you can be admitted to our department."

“Second, go to another hospital,” Fang Ziye said, halfway through his sentence.

"I'm not going to any other hospital, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Your hospital is clearly better, so why should I go to other hospitals? Did other hospitals pay you money?" the uncle interrupted Fang Ziye.

"You'd better take a good look at this. I fractured my bone in the accident. If my treatment is delayed because of your negligence, I will make trouble for you."

Fang Ziye knew that he had encountered the difficult emergency patient that his teacher often told him about.

Although Fang Ziye knew that he would encounter similar patients sooner or later, he never expected to encounter one on the very first day.

However, there are many similar people, certainly more than one, but when they arrive and when they appear is completely beyond their control.

"Then there's nothing you can do but go to the outpatient clinic, see a professor, and then wait patiently."

"I've written down all the corresponding options in your medical record." After Fang Ziye finished writing, he planned to sign his name and leave.

But as soon as he turned around, the middle-aged man grabbed him: "You're not allowed to leave."

"You haven't arranged hospitalization and a bed for me, nor have you arranged surgery. You can't leave. What are you doing? In such a big hospital, is this the kind of doctor you are? You're just ignoring your patients?"

"Everyone, come and see..."

Of course, the middle-aged man's shouts first attracted the security guards.

When two uniformed security guards appeared, the one in the lead simply said, "If you make any more noise, I'll call the police. We'll bring you back after the police have finished dealing with this," and only then did he behave.

Fang Ziye pulled the uncle's hand away, looked at the driver next to him who had bumped into him and looked helpless, and could only say: "First of all, moral blackmail is not applicable."

“The more suitable disease should be treated in the more suitable hospital. This is the national policy, not me deliberately making things difficult for you.”

"The task assigned to our hospital by the policy is to perform major surgeries, high-difficulty and high-risk surgeries. Now that our hospital has admitted surgical patients with these diseases, we have to be responsible for them."

“For minor fractures like yours, our hospital doesn’t have enough spare medical resources to allocate to you. It would be a waste of time and resources for other patients who need our hospital and department’s resources more.”

"So, it's no use reporting it to the Health Commission."

"Secondly, I did not misdiagnose you or give you any wrong advice, and I am not afraid of you reporting me."

"Finally, the hospital's medical resources are public resources, not your exclusive resources, nor mine. We cannot accept patients like you for surgery on such a minor fracture."

"Go to the orthopedics department of a nearby Grade II Class A or Grade III hospital, have the surgery done directly, why do you insist that I handle the hospitalization procedures for you?"

Fang Ziye's attitude was extremely firm and his reasoning was clear.

After hearing this, the uncle's emotions and attitude softened a bit, and he prepared to take the emotional approach: "Doctor, I trust your hospital more. Your hospital is bigger and has better medical skills. You can't send me away."

"Right? Who wouldn't want to be treated in a good hospital when they're sick? Who wouldn't want to be treated by a better professor if they have a broken bone?"

"It's not that I'm not willing to pay, and I'm not asking you for money. I came here for treatment because I hope to get my illness cured. Is that wrong?" The uncle spoke frankly and sadly, with tears streaming down his face.

Actually, Fang Ziye can understand his psychology and his choices from a personal perspective.

Who wouldn't want to go to a better hospital and receive better resources?

However, Fang Ziye certainly couldn't consider this issue at the same level as him.

Or rather, anyone who is not involved in the matter is perfectly objective and saintly.

"Uncle, please don't make things difficult for me. This has nothing to do with whether you pay or not."

"Let me give you an analogy. Let's say your job pays you two thousand yuan a day. That's just an analogy."

"But then, another company has taken a liking to you and insists that you come work for them, offering you two thousand yuan a month. Will you go?"

Fang Ziye's analogy is far too inaccurate.

The middle-aged man answered without hesitation, "Of course I'm not going. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Right? Then let me ask you again, would you give up your job that pays two thousand yuan a day to someone who is richer than you?"

“You quit this job and switch with him. You can take the job that pays two thousand a month, and he can take the job that pays two thousand a day,” Fang Ziye asked.

"Why? He's so rich." The man's reply sounded as if he'd lost millions. "That's right, sir, can't we try to see things from his perspective?"

"Why don't you go and see what kind of people are staying in our wards, and what kind of people are those patients waiting in line? Then you can reconsider whether you want to continue staying at our hospital and occupying these beds?"

"I think you're a reasonable person too?" Since direct explanations didn't work, Fang Ziye simply called him to the trauma surgery ward and let him take a look at the conditions of some other patients.

"Okay, sir," Fang Ziye said to the driver who was pushing him, seeing that the man was hesitating.

"Please take this uncle to our ward first, let him see the patients in our ward, let him see if I'm lying to him, and whether our department has enough beds..."

The driver who was originally driving was now in despair, turning into a pusher, like a walking corpse.

He regretted it; he shouldn't have come to the hospital with him, he should have handed everything over to the insurance company, he shouldn't have been so kind. Now he was in trouble, and he couldn't even run away...

……

After Fang Ziye finished explaining, he gently wiped the fine sweat from his forehead.

Fang Ziye wasn't sure if his roundabout approach would be effective. But at this point, it was the only thing he could do.

Naturally, just as Fang Ziye was about to take a break, a doctor on duty in the emergency surgery clinic came over to the emergency department.

Upon seeing Fang Ziye, his eyes narrowed slightly: "Are you the head of orthopedics?"

"Yes, Professor Fang! Another emergency?" Fang Ziye quickly turned around and answered.

The teacher on duty in the emergency surgery clinic is a senior attending physician in the gastrointestinal surgery department who is about to be promoted to associate chief physician.

He and Fang Ziye are from the same clan and share the same surname, Fang.

Of course, the other party was not from the Fang family of Enshi, and his ancestors had no relation to Fang Ziye. He was from Chishi, Hubei Province.

"Well, it's considered an emergency, but not quite."

"They were two students from our department. They bumped into each other while playing basketball. One of them had a weak left arm, and the other had a weak right arm."

"After I got an emergency room test from someone in the department, I was originally supposed to go to the outpatient clinic."

"Then it would be more convenient for them to find you through the emergency room after they came out of the outpatient department. They went to your ward, and finally found me from the ward."

"I was thinking, Mr. Fang, if it's convenient for you, could you do me a favor? One of them has a dislocation, and the other doesn't, but they also need a forearm sling."

Dr. Fang Songlin explained the cause and effect of the matter very clearly.

"Oh, okay, okay, okay, Teacher Fang!"

Fang Ziye quickly responded, but emphasized, "Teacher Fang, you can call me Xiao Fang or Ziye, but calling me President Fang is a bit outrageous."

"We, the Fang family, are not going to be stingy with each other!"

Fang Songlin is the same age as his master Yuan Weihong, so Fang Ziye wouldn't lose out by recognizing a nephew.

"You're really trying to intimidate me with your family tree, huh?"

"Alright, Xiao Fang, then come with me." Fang Songlin has a round face and a square head, with a low hairline but very thin hair.

As they walked, Fang Songlin took a special look at Fang Ziye's hair and asked him if he had any hair care secrets.

Fang Ziye joked that he should stay up late more often and work more shifts...

Fang Songlin, having served as chief resident, naturally knew that Fang Ziye was joking. He simply flicked Fang Ziye's head, thinking he was being mischievous.

We arrived at the emergency surgery clinic, which was relatively quiet at the moment. There were no other emergency patients inside, except for two young men with their shoulders slumped in opposite directions.

"Du Daixin?" Fang Ziye had sharp eyes and immediately recognized one of the people after entering the emergency room.

Du Daixin is a second-year professional master's student in the Department of Thoracic Surgery, under the guidance of Associate Professor Hong Zili. Oh no, he was in his second year of master's studies last year, and he should be graduating in his third year this year.

It's estimated that he will directly pursue his doctorate under Associate Professor Hong Zili.

"Fang, Senior Brother Fang?!" Du Daixin was even more surprised than Fang Ziye.

After all, Du Daixin came to see Fang Songlin with his classmate to ask the superior of the gastrointestinal surgery department to call the chief resident of the trauma surgery department.

Such a chief resident is not a doctoral student like a junior chief resident, but someone who has basically graduated and stayed on as a hospital staff member.

Since Professor Deng Yong left the laboratory last year, the collaborative relationship between Associate Professor Hong Zili and Professor Deng Yong has come to an end.

Associate Professor Hong Zili got his own laboratory, while Professor Deng Yong went elsewhere.

I just didn't expect that Fang Ziye would jump directly from graduating with a master's degree to chief resident in just one year? That's a bit too outrageous.

But considering that Fang Ziye's BMJ article was commissioned by BMJ, Du Daixin felt that such a possibility was not as far-fetched as a fantasy.

"You two... you still know each other?" Fang Songlin asked in surprise.

A graduate student in my department said that this Du Daixin was his classmate, but he was in thoracic surgery.

It's unusual and a bit strange that a regular master's student in thoracic surgery and a resident in orthopedics are quite familiar with each other.

Fang Ziye took the initiative to explain the relationship between the two: "Well, Professor Fang, we were in the same laboratory before. This is Professor Hong Zili's student in thoracic surgery, and my teacher is Professor Deng Yong."

Although Fang Ziye explained, Fang Songlin still didn't know what the relationship was between Deng Yong and Hong Zili.

Just kidding. With so many professors and associate professors in the entire hospital, no one can fully understand who collaborates with whom, unless Deng Yong was once the administrative director of the Department of Trauma Surgery.

Fang Songlin might not even know who Deng Yong is. As for the associate professor who is a research expert in general surgery, before he became the administrative leader, no one except those in the department and those of the same level knew him.

Fang Songlin didn't say much, only indicating to Fang Ziye that he should do as he pleased.

After reviewing the images for a while, Fang Ziye, accompanied by his two junior colleagues, became troubled: "Du Daixin, which trauma surgeon did you see?"

"He said you don't have a shoulder dislocation?" Fang Ziye's tone became unusually strange.

"what?"

"I'm seeing Dr. Yuan Weihong at his clinic," Du Daixin said, his face full of worry.

Fang Ziye: "..."

What should we do? How should we say it?
(End of this chapter)