Chapter 300

Fang Ziye was visiting the Emergency Department for the third time today; though it was familiar ground, it still felt somewhat strange to him.

The ease of the Master's Student merged into standardized training period had completely vanished; the current Fang Ziye came bearing a task every single time, without a trace of leisure.

"No beds." At this moment, Fang Ziye explained loudly to the patient on the stretcher.

He had already finished diagnosing this patient; the fracture was of the intermediate type, meaning according to current guidelines it fell into the category suitable for either closed reduction or surgical treatment — either first choice would be correct.

In such a situation, Fang Ziye naturally recommended closed reduction treatment first.

But for some reason — perhaps because the other party felt Fang Ziye was too young, or because they believed their fracture involved a third party responsible and insisted on hospitalization and surgery, and moreover demanded a professor handle it.

"You're such a big hospital, how can you possibly have no beds? If there are no beds, what do other patients sleep on?" He lay on the stretcher, both hands gripping the side rails, face full of disbelief; spittle flew up and fell in a parabola back onto his own face.

His left hand hurriedly wiped it away, his eyes glaring at Fang Ziye like a bull's.

"When I say no beds, I mean no spare beds!"

"Right now every bed in our department is occupied, and your current condition is not life-threatening, so the hospital definitely won't process super-emergency procedures to free up a bed for you." Fang Ziye explained quite bluntly.

No matter the hospital, whether there are beds or not is always relative.

For ordinary minor emergencies — say a two-centimeter cut on a finger — at Zhongnan Hospital you might not get seen even after waiting ten days.

But if King Yama wants to see you in two hours, the operating table is your bed.

"I don't care; I came for emergency care, your hospital has to arrange a bed for me — where is there an emergency that doesn't arrange a bed?" The patient's dress suggested a migrant worker; his right foot still wore liberation shoes stained with cement dust — he must have come from a construction site.

But this Big Brother was the least down-to-earth migrant worker Fang Ziye had treated in years.

Perhaps not all migrant workers are honest and unpretentious after all.

"The emergency you're talking about is just your understanding of emergency; yours counts as sub-acute."

"A true emergency actually doesn't even give you time to register."

"Uncle, I won't waste time with you either; your situation now leaves only two choices."

"First, go wait for the Outpatient Clinic; if the professor there thinks you need surgery, they'll issue an admission certificate, and you slowly queue for hospitalization — maybe in about a month you can enter our department."

"Second, go to another hospital." Fang Ziye spoke halfway.

"I'm not going to another hospital; how many times do I have to say it?"

"Your hospital is clearly better; why should I go elsewhere — did the other hospitals pay you off?" That uncle interrupted Fang Ziye.

"You'd better watch out; I was hit and fractured; if your negligence delays my treatment, I'll come after you for trouble."

Fang Ziye knew he had run into the kind of difficult emergency patient his teachers often warned him about.

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

Still, such people are not few — certainly more than one — but when they arrive and when they appear is completely beyond his will.

"Then there's no way; you can only go to the Outpatient Clinic, see the professor's clinic, and wait slowly."

"I've written the corresponding choices in your medical record book." After writing, Fang Ziye prepared to sign his name and leave.

But he had just turned around when the middle-aged uncle grabbed him: "You're not allowed to leave."

"You haven't arranged my hospitalization and bed, haven't arranged surgery — you can't go; what are you doing? Such a big hospital and the doctors have this kind of quality, ignoring patients?"

"Everyone come look..."

Naturally, the middle-aged uncle's shouting first attracted the security guards.

Two uniformed security guards appeared; the lead one merely said, "Make a scene again and I'll call the police; we'll send you over after the police finish handling it," and he quieted down.

Fang Ziye shook off the uncle's hand, looked at the driver beside him who wore a helpless expression, and could only say: "First of all, moral coercion doesn't work on me."

"More suitable disease types go to more suitable hospitals for treatment — this is national policy, not me deliberately making things hard for you."

"The task handed down to our hospital by policy is major surgeries, high-difficulty, high-risk surgeries; right now, our hospital admits surgical patients of these disease types and must be responsible for them."

"For minor fractures like yours, our hospital doesn't have so much idle medical resources to allocate to you; doing so would waste the time and resources of other patients who need our hospital and department more."

"So go ahead and report it, go report to the Health Commission — that's useless too."

"Second, I haven't caused you any misdiagnosis, haven't given wrong advice, so I'm not afraid of you reporting me either."

"Finally, the hospital's medical resources are public resources, not yours alone, not mine alone; for a minor fracture like yours, it's impossible for us to accept you for surgery here."

"Go find a nearby Grade 2 Class A or Grade 3 hospital's Orthopedics Department, get the surgery done directly and be done with it; why insist on me processing your admission?"

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

After hearing this, the uncle's mood and attitude eased slightly, preparing to take the emotional route: "Doctor, I trust your hospital more; your hospital is bigger, the medical skill is better, you can't drive me away."

"Right, who gets sick and doesn't want treatment at a good hospital? Who fractures a bone and doesn't want a better professor to treat them?"

"I'm not refusing to pay, and I'm certainly not asking you to give me money; I came seeking treatment, I hope to cure my illness — is that wrong?" The uncle spoke with snot and tears, bluntly and heartbreakingly.

Actually, his psychology, his choice — from a personal level Fang Ziye could still understand.

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

But Fang Ziye definitely couldn't do it — consider the problem at the same level as him.

Or rather, anyone, as long as it doesn't concern them personally, is extremely objective and saintly.

"Uncle, don't make things hard for me either; this fundamentally isn't about whether you pay or not."

"Let me give you an analogy: suppose your current job pays you two thousand yuan a day — this is just an analogy."

"But then another company's people fancy you, insist you come work for them, offering two thousand yuan a month — would you go?"

Fang Ziye's analogy had too great a gap.

The uncle answered without hesitation: "Definitely not; do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Right, then let me ask you: that job of yours paying two thousand a day — would you give it up to someone richer than you?"

"You quit this job and swap with him; you do the two-thousand-a-month, he does the two-thousand-a-day." Fang Ziye asked.

"Why should I? He's already so rich." The uncle's answer sounded like he'd lost several million.

"That's the point, Uncle; can we try putting ourselves in each other's shoes?"

"How about you go look at our ward — see what kind of people are staying in our ward, what kind of people are queuing — then consider whether you still want to insist on staying in our hospital and occupying these beds?"

"I see you're a reasonable person too?" He spoke directly; when reason failed, Fang Ziye simply had him brought to the Trauma Surgery Ward first, to let him see for himself the condition of the other patients.

"Like this, Big Brother." Seeing the uncle hesitate, Fang Ziye said to the driver pushing him.

"You push this uncle into our ward first, let him see the patients in our ward, let him see if I'm lying to him, if our department has no beds……"

The driver who was driving, at this moment was utterly despairing, transformed into a stretcher-pushing driver, like a walking corpse.

He regretted it; he shouldn't have come to the hospital with him, should have handed everything to the insurance company, shouldn't have been so kind-hearted; now he was entangled in trouble, and couldn't even run off……

……

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

Fang Ziye wasn't sure his roundabout approach would work either. But at this point, it was all he could do.

Naturally, just when Fang Ziye planned to quiet down a bit, outside the Emergency Department, a teacher on duty in an Emergency Surgery Clinic personally ran over.

Seeing Fang Ziye, his eyes narrowed slightly: "Are you the Orthopedics Boss?"

"Eh, yes, Teacher Fang! Another trip to Emergency?" Hearing this, Fang Ziye hurriedly turned and replied.

This teacher on duty in the Emergency Surgery Clinic was a senior Attending Physician from Gastrointestinal Surgery about to be promoted to Deputy Director.

He and Fang Ziye shared the same surname, also surnamed Fang.

Of course, the other party was not from the Enshi Fang Family; his ancestors had no relation to Fang Ziye whatsoever; he was from E City, Hubei Province.

"Mm, counts as Emergency, yet not quite."

"It's two students from our department, they collided playing basketball, two people, one left arm, one right arm, both useless."

"After they got Emergency exams arranged in the department, they originally went to see Outpatient."

"Then coming out of Outpatient, to make it easier for them to go through the Emergency channel to find you, they went to your ward, and finally from the ward found their way here to me."

"I thought if Boss Fang you're free, help out a bit! One of them has a dislocation, the other doesn't have a dislocation but also needs a forearm sling."

Doctor Fang Songlin explained the whole sequence of events very clearly.

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

Fang Ziye hurriedly replied, but emphasized: "Teacher Fang, you can call me Xiao Fang or Ziye, calling me Boss Fang is a bit over the top."

"Our Old Fang Family clansmen don't stand on ceremony with each other!"

Fang Songlin was the same generation as Master Yuan Weihong; Fang Ziye acknowledging him as uncle was no loss.

"You good fellow, pulling out the genealogy to pressure people directly."

"Fine, Xiao Fang, then come with me." Fang Songlin had a round face and square head, hairline not high, but hair thinning-grade.

While walking, Fang Songlin deliberately looked at Fang Ziye's hair, asking if he had any hair-growth secret manual.

Fang Ziye joked: stay up late more, pull more night shifts……

Fang Songlin had been Chief Resident, so naturally knew Fang Ziye was joking, just flicked Fang Ziye's head, thinking him mischievous.

All the way to the Emergency Surgery Clinic, the clinic was relatively quiet at the moment, no other emergency patients inside, except two young men each drooping a shoulder in a different direction.

"Dai Xinxin?" Fang Ziye had sharp eyes; entering the Emergency Clinic, he immediately identified one of them.

Dai Xinxin, Professional Master's Student Year 2 under Associate Professor Hong Zili of Thoracic Surgery — oh no, Year 2 was last year, this year should be Third-year Student, graduating soon.

Estimated he'll directly read for Associate Professor Hong Zili's Doctorate.

"Fang, Senior Brother Fang?!" Dai Xinxin was even more surprised than Fang Ziye.

After all, Dai Xinxin came to find Fang Songlin, following his classmate to ask a Gastrointestinal Surgery superior to call the Trauma Surgery Chief Resident.

And such a Chief Resident wasn't a Follow-up Resident type of Doctor still studying, but basically someone who stayed at the hospital after graduation.

Since Teacher Deng Yong left the Laboratory last year, the cooperative relationship between Associate Professor Hong Zili and Teacher Deng Yong had reached its end.

Associate Professor Hong Zili got his own Laboratory, Teacher Deng Yong sought elsewhere.

Just didn't expect Fang Ziye in merely one year unseen, jumped from Master's graduation straight to Chief Resident? This was a bit too outrageous.

But thinking of Fang Ziye's BMJ being a BMJ commissioned piece, Dai Xinxin felt this possibility wasn't so outrageous as a fantasy either.

"You two, still know each other?" Fang Songlin asked, very surprised.

His department's graduate student said this Dai Xinxin was his classmate, but from Thoracic Surgery.

A Thoracic Surgery ordinary Master's and an Orthopedics Chief Resident being quite familiar was already unusual, slightly bizarre.

Fang Ziye proactively explained the relationship between the two: "Mm, Teacher Fang, before we were in one Laboratory; this is Thoracic Surgery Professor Hong Zili's student, my teacher is Teacher Deng Yong."

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

Joking; the whole hospital has so many Professors and Associate Professors, who cooperates with whom, no one can be completely transparent about it, if not for Deng Yong once being Trauma Surgery's Administrative Director.

Fang Songlin might not even know who Deng Yong is; as for a General Surgery research Expert Associate Professor, before becoming an administrative leader, besides within the department and same-rank peers, others don't know him either.

Fang Songlin didn't say more, just gestured for Fang Ziye to feel free.

Fang Ziye brought the two Fellow Trainees, after reading films for a while, his face turned conflicted: "Dai Xinxin, which Trauma Surgery teacher's Outpatient did you see?"

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

"Ah?"

"I saw Teacher Yuan Weihong's Outpatient." Hearing this, Dai Xinxin's face filled with worry.

Fang Ziye: "……"

What to do? How to say it?

(Chapter End)