Chapter 380

Fang Ziye arrived at the Hand Surgery Operating Room, and from inside came waves of heart-wrenching groans: "Mmm... hmph! ~ Ah... mmm! ~"

"It's fine, I can take it, low-dose local anesthesia!"

Fang Ziye stepped on the foot-operated automatic sensor door and entered, discovering the operating room packed with people, some familiar, some not.

Seeing someone else push into the OR, an older professor turned, saw how young Fang Ziye was, and immediately barked coldly: "Which department? Nothing better to do than come watch the show?"

"If you've no business, get out."

It was obvious — not many associate professors or professors recognized Fang Ziye; they took this latecomer to the OR for a gawker.

Fang Ziye wasn't annoyed or angry: "Teacher, I'm Orthopedics. Fang Ziye! ~"

Hearing Fang Ziye say "Orthopedics," this non-orthopedics professor was slightly embarrassed; Mi Qi's hand trauma was an orthopedics case, so he was the one actually here to watch.

But the moment Fang Ziye gave his three-character name, someone on the operating table spoke up, voice cutting through the crowd: "Ziye, scrub in and get up here! ~"

"As for the rest of you teachers, how about you wait outside? Too many people in here, and Mi Qi's vital signs are already stable."

"For this hand wound, per Mi Qi's wishes, he wants the suturing done under repeated shallow local anesthesia, and this process will take a very, very long time..."

"If needed, we'll summon you professors for consultation at the first moment?! ~"

By the tone, it was Professor Ni Yaoping of Hand Surgery.

Professor Ni Yaoping's words were proper and courteous; hearing them, many people slowly withdrew from the OR.

The professor who'd caused the earlier awkwardness, seeing Fang Ziye scrubbing, even specially explained: "Young brother, sorry just now, I thought you were another department's gawker."

"Before you came, I already chased off twenty young doctors and nurses..."

Facing the other's boasting, Fang Ziye felt a chill inside, kept scrubbing and turned his head: "It's fine, Teacher, I understand, too many people in the OR isn't good."

"Orthopedics' Fang Ziye, good lad, I'll remember..." That professor wasn't especially old, early forties, gave Fang Ziye a thumbs-up and left, never giving his own name or identity.

With a professor's status, standing in the OR, chasing off one or two gawking young doctors and nurses — even if he yelled at the wrong person and made a mistake — no extra explanation needed.

The OR has its own rules to begin with.

Fang Ziye scrubbed, hands clasped together, and as he entered the Hand Surgery OR, a stream of people came out the doorway; Fang Ziye knew they were at least professor or associate professor level, so he stepped aside first.

But seeing Fang Ziye's hands held prayer-like at his chest, the exiting crowd actively cleared a path, the leader guiding him: "Go in, go in, you surgical doctors get busy first."

"Everything else is fine, the rest is your Hand Surgery's main battlefield..."

Fang Ziye didn't stand on ceremony, passed through the human corridor, and began scrubbing and gowning.

After Fang Ziye dressed and gloved, an attending Big Brother he wasn't especially familiar with was chased off the table, yielding the spot to Fang Ziye.

Fang Ziye quickly took over the previous attending Big Brother's position, then surveyed the lineup on the table.

Professor Ni Yaoping lead surgeon, Professor Liu Huanglong first assistant, Old Professor Wen Dongfang second assistant, responsible for theoretical guidance.

Associate Professor Guan Qiquan third assistant, and another person, also in sterile surgical gown, only guarding a tray, similar to an Anesthesiology drug tray — should be Anesthesiology personnel.

Fang Ziye didn't know why the configuration was like this now, and the doubt in his heart wasn't something to ask about at this moment.

Looking at Mi Qi, Mi Qi's injury site was very simple: left palm, two staggered longitudinal lacerations from crossed knives; left hand's thenar area had a knife wound but already sutured.

From this it could be determined: this absolutely wasn't a case of not wanting to cut deeper — Mi Qi caught the blade with his hand.

Also head injuries, also sutured and bandaged.

But right now, Mi Qi's chosen anesthesia was neither general nor nerve block; moreover, because he was medical staff, they didn't even use a large drape to fully cover him!

Mi Qi wore a mask covering mouth and nose, but brows knitted, forehead deeply furrowed, eyelids shut tight, holding his breath enduring the agony.

This lasted a full seven seconds before Mi Qi took two huge gasps, crystal traces sliding again over old tracks at eye corners, eye sockets moist: "I'm fine, you continue, thank you teachers, thank you brothers."

Mi Qi's voice carried pleading.

Liu Huanglong asked now: "How does it feel? Dr. Mi, if you can't take it, nerve block anesthesia, low dose, shallow anesthesia — the anesthesia duration is too short, though that lets your sensation recover sharply, giving us feedback..."

"But such anesthesia duration is too hard to control; once our suturing starts, it can't stop midway."

"Dr. Mi, I know you want to preserve more hand function, hope to complete functional interaction with us intraoperatively, able to adjust and rest suturing results anytime."

"But as lead surgeon, from my personal angle, this is actually a very inhumane surgery, it's even more than torture..."

General anesthesia, Mi Qi just sleeps, wakes up and surgery's over.

Nerve block, Mi Qi's whole arm has zero sensation, motor and sensory function both gone, so surgery finishes in one go, good or bad, done deal.

But actually, with a comparatively good tendon suturing, if the patient can endure the pain, with nerve sensation and motor function not lost, intraoperatively.

After local anesthesia, the patient can endure the pain and can...

But such a surgical method, medical workers would never offer as an option to patients. Because this form brings huge surgical stress trauma, possibly leaving psychological shadows.

If just to save a tiny bit of function, the harm outweighs the benefit!

Mi Qi shook his head: "No, no no no!"

Mi Qi's eyes slightly swollen, none of the playfulness and amiability from when he was on duty at the Vascular Surgery Emergency Clinic.

"I can take it, Teacher, brothers, rest assured, even if this gives me psychological illness, I won't blame you. If my hand is gone, my psychological illness will be more severe than any post-stress."

"I can still do it..." Mi Qi finished, then asked: "Teacher, what cooperation next? Still move middle and ring fingers, or index finger?"

"Wait, I still can't quite tell how many fingers I actually have..."

Mi Qi's tone calm, no emotion, no sentimentality.

But as everyone present on the operating table — who isn't a surgeon? A surgeon's career first commandment is these two hands; lose them, or they're not dexterous enough, and whatever career you talk about is a second life.

Even old professors might, for various reasons, slowly retreat from the clinical frontline, slowly exit this stage of the operating table, let alone...

Liu Huanglong said: "Then keep moving it, your current injured soft tissues are many — vessels, nerves, tendons."

"But fortunately, the active contraction function of both extensor and flexor tendons isn't on the palmar plane..."

Hearing this, Mi Qi's left hand trembled as he slightly clenched a fist! ~

Familiar sounds came again.

"Mmm... ah! ~ Ah... mmm! ~ Hmph! ~"

"Ah! Ha! ~" After a round, Mi Qi gasped in huge breaths.

Damn it, this is moving without anesthesia for the wound, and having to endure the pain while doing so. Moving at this time would stimulate the pain and intensify it; such pain was several times more severe than the original stab wound!

The tendons had just been sutured and were far from healed.

The blood vessels had also just been sutured, and the severed ends of the nerves had only been treated a short while ago.

Fang Ziye understood this suturing method, and he didn't even know if, during the previous nerve sutures, Liu Huanglong and the others had been "acting inhuman" by poking Mi Qi's fingertip with a needle after finishing, to check for passive or active contraction and verify the quality of the nerve suture.

If it wasn't good, it had to be corrected.

But now, Liu Huanglong and the others were indeed acting that inhumanly, bit by bit probing Mi Qi's tendon motor function.

Fang Ziye remembered that six to seven hours had already passed since Mi Qi was injured until now.

Liu Huanglong said: "Some tendon function is not bad, and the flexion and extension of the other tendons also have room..."

Mi Qi asked: "Teacher, is there still room for improvement? I've endured this long already, I can still endure it. Just follow your standards; by the time the surgery ends, let passive movement reach its best value, and active movement reach a certain extent."

"The earlier functional exercise begins, the better; I trust your skills."

Hearing this, the anesthesiologist could no longer bear it, and directly slammed a needleless syringe from the tray onto the operating room floor with his right hand.

He began to scold with a choked voice: "Damn it, if you want to do it again, I won't anesthetize you."

"Damn it, I can't bear it anymore! ~"

"I won't anesthetize him!"

Obviously, such a scene had happened more than once, and it wasn't just for one hour.

A professor from the Anesthesiology Department suddenly threw a tantrum and threw things, which finally made the circulating and instrument nurses in the operating room tremble with fright.

However, after hearing the anesthesiologist's words, the circulating nurse didn't say a word of scolding; she silently stood up, packed up the syringe thrown by the Anesthesiology Department professor, and silently threw it into the medical yellow waste bin.

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

"I can't operate anymore; this kind of local low-dose shallow anesthesia is too difficult to control in terms of time and rhythm."

Hearing this, Mi Qi became agitated: "No, Teacher Du, Teacher Du, don't be afraid, I can hold it in, I promise I won't make a sound, I promise it won't hurt!"

"I won't make a sound." After Mi Qi said this, he obediently pressed his lips together.

A surgeon's hands are the second life of a surgeon's career; Mi Qi started studying clinical medicine at eighteen, and now at thirty-seven, he had studied for a full nineteen years before reaching the position of Associate Professor, and he seemed to be on the verge of growing further, and would soon be able to stand on his own.

Mi Qi was unwilling for his career to end just like that; as long as there was a glimmer of hope, he could endure any suffering.

"Holy crap! ~~~~" The Anesthesiology Department professor used both hands to forcefully snap a syringe in half, snapping it in half, and the anesthetic inside splashed all over his own face!

(Chapter End)