Surgery Godfather-Chapter 1990 - 1349: Returning Home After Completing My Studies (Part 2)

Chapter 1990: Chapter 1349: Returning Home After Completing My Studies (Part 2)

Five years ago, the Elderly Director made a decision. He sent the only three young key members of the hospital at that time to further their studies in batches: Li Minghui in internal medicine, Wang Zhiqiang in surgery, and Chen Yao in obstetrics and gynecology. Some people opposed it, but the Elderly Director only said one sentence: "If we can’t retain people, it’s not the young people’s fault, it’s that we can’t keep them here."

After Li Minghui completed her training, her family helped find her a job with a doctor in the county seat. After his training, Wang Zhiqiang went to a private hospital. Chen Yao actually came back, but after less than a year and unable to endure her husband’s long-term separation, she also resigned and left for a health clinic in the Provincial City.

The Elderly Director didn’t say anything; he just never mentioned sending anyone for further training again.

Li Min was the fourth one.

On the day of his departure, the Elderly Director said, "Go, come back after you’ve learned well."

Li Min said, "I will come back."

That night, on the high-speed train, Li Min received a text message from the Elderly Director, with only six words:

"I believe in you, you must return."

Li Min read those six words many times and kept them.

At this moment, the Elderly Director was standing in front of him, tears streaming down his face.

Dr. Zhang whispered next to him, "Director, Dr. Li just got off the train and is very tired, let him come in and sit down first."

The Elderly Director seemed to wake from a dream, nodding repeatedly: "Yes, yes, sit, sit." He took Li Min’s hand, pulled him into the office, placed him in that old wicker chair he’d used for thirty-two years, and clumsily went to pour some water.

Li Min stopped him: "Director, don’t worry about it, I’m not thirsty."

The Elderly Director didn’t listen, stubbornly picking up the enamel cup labeled "Model Worker" and, with trembling hands, poured a cup of plain boiled water from the thermos, handing it to Li Min with both hands.

Li Min accepted the cup; the water was very hot, burning his palm through the cup’s wall, but he didn’t let go.

"How is the hospital... now?" Li Min asked.

The Elderly Director sat opposite him, sighing: "Still the same. The outpatient volume is forty to fifty a day, and seven to eight are admitted. Old Zhang and the others are holding on, it’s tough." He paused, seeming to make a big decision before saying, "Have you seen the new hospital over there?"

Li Min nodded: "I have, it’s beautiful, it’s big."

"Beautiful, big," the Elderly Director said, "but I don’t dare to move in."

Li Min was stunned.

The Elderly Director’s gaze turned to the window, looking towards the brand-new white building in the distance. The sunset was hitting its glass facade, reflecting a golden glow.

"I dream of moving in," the Elderly Director said, "but I don’t dare. The new hospital is several times larger than it is now, with the most advanced equipment among township health centers in our province, and there are two hundred-level laminar flow operating rooms. Do you know what laminar flow operating rooms mean? Not even our county hospital has them."

His voice lowered, as if talking to himself: "But where are the doctors? The nurses? Who will use that equipment? Who will stand at that operating table?"

Li Min said nothing.

The Elderly Director turned his head to look at him, his old eyes murky with tears and a kind of vulnerability, a hope Li Min had never seen before.

"Now that you’re back, it’s great." The Elderly Director said happily, "Have you learned things with Professor Yang?"

"Yes, I have learned."

"Is it enough to use?"

"It should be enough!"

Nearby doctors and nurses looked on enviously. It’s rare for a doctor from a township hospital to be able to study in a provincial hospital, let alone under the tutelage of a Nobel Prize-winning Professor Yang himself.

Li Min thought for a moment and recounted his learning experience to the Elderly Director.

The Elderly Director listened attentively, nodding occasionally, sometimes asking a question or two.

The Elderly Director stood up, walked to the window. His back, outlined by the sunset, appeared thin, hunched, yet still upright.

"At the opening ceremony for the new hospital, Chairman Cheng and President Huang were all there." He said, turning his back to Li Min, "Professor Yang didn’t come; he sent Dr. Li Guodong in his place. Dr. Li Guodong said that Professor Yang has a message for you."

Li Min looked up.

The Elderly Director turned around to look at him.

"Professor Yang said: ’Dr. Li, once you return, you won’t be fighting alone, Sanbo Research Institute will always have your back.’"

The Elderly Director’s voice was trembling, but it wasn’t from sadness.

"Li Min," he said, "we are not a forgotten corner anymore."

That night, Li Min didn’t return to his dormitory; instead, he sat in the Elderly Director’s office for a long time, opening the teaching material printed on A4 paper.

Outside, the night in Guandu Town was quiet, without the neon lights and traffic of the city, only occasionally interrupted by a dog’s bark and the sound of the wind rustling through the woods.

He thought of those brightly lit nights at Sanbo Research Institute, the shadows discussing cases in the teaching room, the faces in the operating room with only their eyes visible, and those young faces arguing about academic issues while holding trays in the cafeteria. That was the forefront of the world’s medical field, and everyone working there was participating in changing the map of humanity’s fight against disease.

And the place he was about to return to was the most marginal, the most inconspicuous coordinate on that map. There were no genetic sequencers here, no digital surgical navigation systems. There were only the Elderly Director’s hands, only his own hands, and those lines of folks waiting to be seen, waiting to be told, "This disease can be treated."

This wasn’t a discrepancy; this was a mission. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Early the next morning, Li Min rose early. He donned his freshly washed white gown, carefully fastening every button in front of the mottled mirror in his dormitory.

The outpatient hall was gradually filling with people. Lines formed at the registration window; a young girl at the reception desk, wearing a brand-new uniform, was nervously directing the first patient to the department. A cleaning aunt pushed a cart through the hallway, with the faint sound of wheels on the ground.

Li Min took a deep breath and walked to the director’s office.

The Elderly Director was already there, wearing a new white gown too, his hair meticulously combed. Seeing Li Min enter, he stood up, straightening his back.

"Comrade Li Min," his voice was serious and solemn, "On behalf of the more than 30,000 residents of Nanqiao County’s Guandu Town Health Center, Party Branch Secretary and Director Li Changgeng welcomes you back to work at Guandu Hospital."

Li Min stood at attention and nodded slightly.

"Dr. Li Min, reporting to the director."

The Elderly Director looked at him, his lips moving as if wanting to say something more. But in the end, he just nodded.

"Good." He said, "Let’s begin."

At eight in the morning, Guandu Hospital welcomed the first batch of outpatient patients since the new site’s completion.

The first patient was a woman in her seventies, supported by her son. She shakily sat down in front of Li Min, placed an old rural cooperative card on the table, and spoke in a heavy accent:

"Dr. Li, I heard you came back, so I came all the way from Qingshi Village."

Li Min recognized her. Zhou Guiying, seventy-six, chronic heart failure with renal insufficiency, has been seeing him for eight years.

He didn’t rush to prescribe medication. He asked her about her diet, her sleep, her mood. The elderly woman rambled on, her son impatiently urging her along, mentioning they had to get back to the construction site.

After listening, Li Min wrote a few lines on the prescription pad, then crossed them out and rewrote.

The old woman’s son leaned over: "Dr. Li, what medicine are you prescribing? Is it expensive?"

Li Min handed him the prescription pad: "No, it’s not expensive. Medical insurance covers a lot. First, go to the pharmacy on the first floor to get the medication, and after a week, come back for a follow-up."

There were only two medications on the prescription: a diuretic, with the dosage reduced by one-third, and a metabolic supplement, very inexpensive.

There was also a note for the pharmacist:

"Patient has been consuming homemade pickles for years, advice is to limit daily salt intake under 5 grams, family assistance in supervision suggested."

The old woman couldn’t read, but she trusted Li Min. She folded the prescription carefully and tucked it into her inner pocket.

"Granny, you have to eat less salt, avoid salted pickles, make your meals less salty." Li Min reiterated to her son as well.

Her son nodded, accompanying the old woman to collect the medicine.

"Dr. Li," she turned back again, "you won’t leave this time, will you?"

"I won’t," he said.

The old woman smiled, showing her toothless gums.

"That’s good, that’s good."

She slowly exited the clinic room, her son following behind, still mumbling his complaints.

Li Min opened a medical record book, writing the first outpatient note for the new location of Guandu Hospital.

Outside, on the winding mountain road in the distance, a farm vehicle chugged uphill, with a few folks inside heading to the county market.

The sun climbed over the mountaintop, casting a warm golden glow over the entirety of the brand-new white building.

This was an ordinary day; this was a brand new day.