top student at medical school

Chapter 379 Tough Guy and Soft Guy (First Update, Please Subscribe)
When Fang Ziye arrived outside the hand surgery room, he heard a series of piercing groans coming from inside: "Ugh... Hmph! ~ Ah... Ugh...! ~"

"It's okay, I can handle it, just a small dose of local anesthesia!"

After Fang Ziye stepped open the foot-operated automatic sensor door, he found the operating room crowded with people, some familiar and some unfamiliar to him.

Seeing that someone had stepped into the operating room, an older professor turned around and saw that Fang Ziye was very young. He immediately sneered, "Which department are you from? You have nothing better to do than watch the show?"

"If you don't have anything urgent to do, then go out."

It's obvious that not many associate professors and professors knew Fang Ziye, and they treated him, who arrived at the operating room late, as just a bystander.

Fang Ziye, upon hearing this, remained neither annoyed nor angry: "Teacher, I'm in orthopedics. Fang Ziye!"

When Fang Ziye explained the word "orthopedics," the professor, who was not an orthopedic specialist, was slightly embarrassed. In fact, Mi Qi's hand injury was an orthopedic condition, so he was just there to watch the show.

Upon hearing Fang Ziye announce his name, a voice immediately rang out from the operating table, penetrating the crowd: "Ziye, wash your hands and come up to the operating table!"

"Other teachers, would you please wait outside? There are too many people in the operating room. Dr. Mi's vital signs are now stable."

"Regarding the wound on my hand, Dr. Yimi means he will need to stitch it up under repeated light local anesthesia, and this process will take a very long time..."

"If necessary, we will request that you professors come for a consultation as soon as possible!"

Judging from the tone of his voice, it comes from Professor Ni Yaoping, a hand surgeon.

Professor Ni Yaoping's words were proper and courteous, and upon hearing them, many people slowly left the operating room.

The professor who had caused the awkward situation earlier saw Fang Ziye washing his hands and made a point of explaining to him, "Young man, I'm sorry about earlier. I thought you were just another bystander from another department."

"Before you arrived, I had already driven away twenty junior doctors and nurses..."

Faced with the other party's boasting of their achievements, Fang Ziye felt a chill run down his spine. He continued washing his hands and turned his head, saying, "It's alright, teacher. I understand. Having a lot of people in the operating room isn't a good thing."

"Fang Ziye from the orthopedics department, good young man, I'll remember you..." The professor wasn't particularly old, in his forties. He gave Fang Ziye a thumbs up and left without introducing himself or his name.

As a professor, standing in the operating room, he could easily dismiss one or two junior doctors and nurses who were just watching the show. Even if he made a mistake and caused a misunderstanding, he wouldn't need to explain further.

There are established rules and regulations in the operating room.

Fang Ziye washed his hands, clasped them together, and then walked into the hand surgery operating room. A number of people came out of the door one after another. Fang Ziye knew that these people were at least professors or associate professors, so he stepped aside to let them pass.

However, upon seeing Fang Ziye's hands clasped together in prayer before his chest, the crowd made way for him, with the leader directing Fang Ziye: "Go in, go in, you surgeons go ahead."

"Everything else is fine. The rest is up to your hand surgery department..."

Fang Ziye didn't stand on ceremony; he walked through the crowd and began washing his hands and getting dressed.

After Fang Ziye put on his clothes and gloves, an attending physician whom Fang Ziye didn't know very well was asked to leave the operating table and give Fang Ziye his place.

After quickly taking over the position from the previous attending physician, Fang Ziye took a look at the scene on the operating table.

Professor Ni Yaoping was the chief surgeon, with Professor Liu Huanglong as the first assistant and Professor Wen Dongfang as the second assistant, who were responsible for providing guidance on the underlying principles.

Associate Professor Guan Qiquan was the third assistant. There was another person, also wearing a sterile surgical gown, but only guarding a tray, similar to the drug tray in the anesthesiology department, who should be from the anesthesiology department.

Fang Ziye didn't know why the configuration was like this, and now was not the time to ask about his doubts.

Looking at Michi, Michi's injuries were very simple: two vertical cuts on his left palm, and a cut on the upper part of his left hand, which had been stitched up.

Therefore, it can be concluded that this definitely does not mean that he did not intend to cut down; rather, it was Mitch who grabbed it with his hand.

In addition, someone had a head injury, which was also stitched up and bandaged.

But at this moment, the anesthesia method chosen by Mickey was neither general anesthesia nor nerve block anesthesia. In fact, because he was a medical worker, he was not completely covered with a large sheet!

Miki wore a mask that covered her mouth and nose, but her brows were furrowed, her forehead was deeply wrinkled, and her upper and lower eyelids were tightly closed as she held her breath and endured the excruciating pain.

This continued for a full seven seconds before Mi Qi finally took two deep breaths, tears welling up in his eyes once again, his eyes moist: "I'm fine, you guys continue, thank you teacher, thank you brothers."

Mickey's voice carried a pleading tone.

Liu Huanglong asked, "How are you feeling, Dr. Mi? If you can't hold on, let's do nerve block anesthesia, low dose, light anesthesia. The anesthesia duration is too short, although it can restore your senses and allow you to give us feedback..."

"But such anesthesia duration is too difficult to control. Once our suturing begins, it cannot be stopped halfway."

“Dr. Mi, I know you want to preserve more of your hand function and hope to interact with us during the surgery so that we can adjust and modify the sutures at any time.”

"But as the lead surgeon, from my personal perspective, this was actually a very inhumane operation, worse than torture..."

Mitchell was under general anesthesia and fell asleep. When she woke up, the surgery was over.

After the nerve block, Mitchie lost all sensation in that hand, with both motor and sensory functions completely absent. Therefore, the surgery was a one-off event, a complete loss regardless of the outcome. However, in reality, with better tendon sutures, if the patient can tolerate the pain, and sensory and motor functions are not lost during the procedure...

After the local anesthesia wears off, if the patient can tolerate the pain, then...

However, medical professionals will not inform patients of this surgical option. This is because such a procedure can cause significant surgical stress and trauma, and may even leave patients with psychological scars.

If it's only to salvage a tiny bit of functionality, the disadvantages outweigh the advantages!

Miki shook his head: "No, no, no, no!"

Mickey's eyes were slightly puffy, and he no longer had the playful and amiable demeanor he displayed when he was on duty in the vascular surgery emergency room.

"I can endure it, teachers, brothers, don't worry. Even if I develop mental illness because of this, I won't blame you. If I lose my hand, my mental illness will be more severe than any other stressful event."

“I can still do it…” Miqi said, then asked, “Teacher, what do you need me to do next? Should I move my middle and ring fingers, or my index finger?”

"No, I still can't quite tell how many fingers I have..."

Mickey's tone was calm, devoid of any emotion or sentimentality.

But for everyone on the operating table right now, who isn't a surgeon? A surgeon's first life in their career is these hands. Without these hands, or if they're not dexterous enough, then no matter how you talk about their career, it's like a second life.

Even veteran professors may gradually withdraw from the front lines of clinical practice and the operating table due to various issues, let alone...

Liu Huanglong said, "Then move around a bit more. You have a lot of soft tissue injuries, including blood vessels, nerves, and tendons."

"Fortunately, the active contraction function of the extensor and flexor tendons of the fingers does not occur in the palmar plane..."

Upon hearing this, Mi Qi's left hand trembled and clenched into a slight fist!
The familiar voice came again.

"Mmm... Ah! ~ Ah... Mmm! ~ Hmph! ~"

"Ah! Ha!~" After one round, Mi Qi was panting heavily.

This is happening without anesthesia, and the person is forcing themselves to move around in the pain. This movement actually exacerbates the pain, making it several times more intense than the original knife wound!
The tendon has only been stitched up; it's not yet healed.

The blood vessels had just been sutured back together, and the severed nerve ends had only recently been treated.

Fang Ziye understood this suturing pattern, and he didn't even know that during the previous nerve suturing, Liu Huanglong and others had "inhumanely" used a needle to poke the distal end of Mi Qi's fingertip after the suturing was completed to see if there was passive or active contraction, in order to verify the quality of the nerve suturing.

If it's not good, then it needs to be corrected.

But now, Liu Huanglong and his group are acting inhumanely, testing Mizi's tendon movement function little by little.

Fang Ziye remembers that six or seven hours have passed since Mi Qi was injured.

Liu Huanglong said, "Some tendons are still functioning well, and the other tendons also have room for flexion and extension..."

Miqi asked, "Teacher, is there still room for improvement? I've endured this for so long, I can endure it any longer. Just according to your standards, by the end of the surgery, passive movement should reach its optimal value, and active movement should also reach a certain level."

"The earlier you start functional training, the better. I have faith in your techniques."

Upon hearing this, the anesthesiologist could no longer bear it and directly used his right hand to smash a needleless syringe from the tray onto the operating room floor.

He choked back tears and cursed, "Even if you want to do it again, I don't want to numb you anymore."

"I just can't bear it anymore!"

"I'm not numb anymore!"

Clearly, this scene lasted more than once, and for more than an hour.

The anesthesiology professor suddenly lost his temper and threw things, which startled the circulating and scrub nurses in the operating room.

However, after hearing the anesthesiologist's words, the circulating nurse didn't utter a single curse. She silently got up, picked up the syringe that the anesthesiology professor had thrown away, and quietly tossed it into the yellow medical waste bin.

Soon, the professor of anesthesiology made a decision, looked at Mickey, and said in a cold and ruthless tone: "Now you only have two choices, one is general anesthesia, and the other is nerve block!"

“I can’t bring myself to do it. With this kind of local low-dose light anesthesia, the timing and rhythm of the anesthesia are too difficult to control.”

Upon hearing this, Mi Qi became excited: "No, Teacher Du, Teacher Du, don't be afraid, I can handle it, I promise I won't make a sound, I promise it won't hurt!"

"I won't make a sound." After saying that, Mi Qi obediently pursed her lips.

A surgeon's hands are the second life of a surgeon's career. Mitch started studying clinical medicine at the age of eighteen and is now thirty-seven years old. He has studied for a full nineteen years before becoming an associate professor. He is about to grow into a professional and will be able to stand on his own in the future.

Mickey was unwilling to let his career end like this, and he was willing to endure any hardship as long as there was a glimmer of hope.

"Holy crap!~~~~" The anesthesiology professor snapped a syringe in half with his bare hands, spilling the anesthetic all over his face!
(End of this chapter)