Surgery Godfather-Chapter 2008 - 1357: The Truth (2)

The young nurse stood in the doorway, watching his back, tears finally rolling down her face.

---

At three in the afternoon, the emergency department received another special patient.

Sixty-seven years old, an elderly lady, brought in for "chest tightness." The triage nurse measured her blood pressure and did an ECG, finding no obvious abnormalities. According to standard procedure, she should have been sent to queue at the internal medicine clinic.

But Xiong Shihai took another look.

The elderly lady was sitting in a wheelchair, her complexion seemed fine, her breathing steady. But her hand was constantly pressed against her left shoulder, not just casually resting, but pressing with her fingers, as if holding something down.

Xiong Shihai walked over and squatted down.

"Auntie, does your shoulder hurt?"

The elderly lady nodded. "A bit sore, an old problem, shoulder periarthritis."

"How long has it been hurting?"

"Started today, along with the chest tightness."

Xiong Shihai felt a jolt inside.

Shoulder periarthritis doesn’t come with chest tightness. Only cardiac referred pain would.

He stood up and said to the nurse, "Send her to the rescue room."

The nurse hesitated for a moment, "Director Xiong, the ECG was fine..."

"Send her to the rescue room."

Five minutes later, the bedside ultrasound showed: ascending aorta dilation, with a flap moving inside.

Aortic Dissection.

In another hour, the aorta could rupture, and even a deity couldn’t save her.

The elderly lady was urgently sent to the surgery center. When Song Zimo received the call, he was reviewing outpatient records. He put down the records and ran.

Thirty-five minutes later, the aorta replacement was completed. From admission to extracorporeal circulation transition, it only took thirty-five minutes.

Shortly after the surgery, the elderly lady woke up.

Her son found Song Zimo and knelt down with a thud.

"Director Song," he cried, "if it weren’t for you, my mom would be gone. The emergency doctor said the ECG was fine and told us to queue at the outpatient department. If we had really queued, we wouldn’t have made it until tomorrow..."

Song Zimo helped him up.

"It wasn’t us," he said, "it was Dr. Xiong, he took another look.

---

A few hours later, there was another call.

"Is this Sanbo emergency department? There’s a patient with sudden chest pain, expected to arrive in ten minutes. The family says the patient had heart surgery before, but the specifics are unknown."

Song Zimo hung up the phone and glanced at the clock on the wall.

Five forty-three in the afternoon, the evening rush had just begun. The roads were jam-packed, leaving the ambulance to move slowly.

He said to Xiong Shihai, "Old heart surgery patient, unknown medical history. Send someone to wait at the entrance, send directly to the surgery center, bypassing the rescue room. Push the bedside ultrasound over and wait at the entrance to the surgery center."

Xiong Shihai nodded and rushed out himself.

Ten minutes later, the patient arrived. In his sixties, his face was as pale as a ghost, drenched in sweat, consciousness blurred, with purpling lips. Xiong Shihai took him off the vehicle, running while pushing the stretcher and asking the family member.

"What surgery? When was it done?"

The family member, too scared to speak clearly, stammered, "Twelve... twelve years ago, valve... valve replacement..."

Xiong Shihai felt another jolt inside.

Post valve replacement, the patient had been on anticoagulants for a long time, and now sudden chest pain — highly suspicious for aortic dissection, paravalvular leak, or coronary artery embolism. Any one of these could be fatal within minutes.

The surface ultrasound confirmed Xiong Sihai’s suspicion.

"Director Song!" he shouted into the surgery center.

Song Zimo was already in surgical gown, waiting in the operating room.

The patient was rushed in, and anesthesia, intubation, disinfection, and thoracotomy were carried out seamlessly.

At the moment the chest cavity was opened, everyone’s breath was taken away.

On the ascending aorta, there was a three-centimeter rupture, oozing blood. The aortic wall was paper-thin, ready to burst at any moment. Blood had seeped into the pericardium, and the heart was compressed, unable to beat.

Song Zimo’s hands were very steady.

"Prepare for extracorporeal circulation," he said.

Intubation, transition, cooling, aorta replacement, coronary artery reconstruction. Three and a half hours, each stitch as precise as a textbook.

When closing the chest, the anesthesiologist called out the numbers: "Blood pressure 115/70, heart rate 82, blood oxygen saturation 99%."

Song Zimo put down the needle holder.

"Send to ICU."

He walked out of the operating room and into the resting room, leaning against the wall. His surgical gown was soaked through.

Xiong Shihai stood next to him, handing him a bottle of water.

"Director Song," he said, "when we opened the chest cavity just now, my heartbeat stopped."

Song Zimo took a sip of water.

"Not that exaggerated," he said.

Xiong Shihai paused for a moment.

Then he said, "What you did was godlike. With such a rupture, another person might not have found it before the patient was gone."

Song Zimo said nothing.

He leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

---

Before getting off work, he went to see the child again.

The ward was very quiet, with only the nurse’s station light on. The young nurse saw him and pointed to Zhang Ke’s ward, whispering, "Still not asleep, he’s been waiting."

Song Zimo pushed the door open and went in.

Zhang Ke wasn’t asleep yet, leaning against the head of the bed, clutching a plush teddy bear. It was a gift from the nurse姐姐, she said all the kids at the hospital had one. He held it so tightly, the bear’s face was deformed.

Seeing Song Zimo come in, his eyes lit up.

"Uncle Song!"

Song Zimo walked over and sat by the bed.

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?"

Zhang Ke lowered his head.

"Can’t sleep."

"What are you thinking about?"

Zhang Ke was silent for a while.

"Thinking about my mom."

Song Zimo said nothing.

Zhang Ke raised his head, looking at him.

"Uncle Song, will my mom really come to see me?"

Song Zimo looked at him.

His eyes were still so bright, but different from a few days ago. They now held not just anticipation, but a hint of doubt and fear. He was observing, testing, searching for answers in his own way.

He had begun to doubt.

A five-year-old child, already knew how to doubt.