Chapter 1119: 1090 Good News

The thoracic aorta bulged, the dark red hematoma glaringly visible.

Director Ma muttered, "Thoracic aorta… was the stent placed inside?"

"It's in, don't worry." Director Kong also saw the operating field from behind, felt something odd, and softly comforted.

Even though Director Kong personally saw the stent go in, he was still shocked. Without the stent, it would surely rupture, the person would die outright—what's the point of rescuing then?

Fang Lin gently touched the edge of the hematoma with hemostatic forceps, feeling the stent's hardness. Actually, as long as the stent is in place, sealing the breach in the vessel lining, there's no problem.

He gave it a try, but he had some doubts.

Zheng Lao Ban is strong; when rescuing himself, afterward he heard people describe the process. The emergency rescue level is top‑notch. But how did he know there was a thoracic aortic dissection?

Director Miao was injured and brought in; I also found out right away, came running, and by the time I arrived Zheng Lao Ban's surgery was already finished.

Not only abdominal surgery, but even the thoracic aortic stent was placed.

Judging by the hematoma's size, it could rupture at any moment. Once it does, rescue efforts would be over.

Doubt remains doubt, but questioning Zheng Ren's actions—Fang Lin couldn't bring himself to do that.

"Director, the stent is perfect; if I'm uneasy I could cover it with a layer of hemostatic gauze…" Fang Lin whispered, but he couldn't come up with any further measures.

The most critical rescue surgery, Zheng Lao Ban had completed it before anyone else arrived.

What a monster—Fang Lin stood in the assistant's position, glanced up at Zheng Ren sitting beside the sealed lead door, back against the wall.

Is Zheng Lao Ban really that capable? It's hard to imagine.

Director Ma nodded; here we can't do much more. With the stent in place, there's no need to consider aortic replacement. Given Director Miao's condition, he simply couldn't endure the trauma of aortic replacement.

Su Yun stood silently beside Lao He, viewing the field from an anesthesiologist's angle. When the mediastinum was opened, he was the most astonished.

Zheng Ren initially adopted that bizarre surgical method, seemingly proving something.

Femoral artery puncture, with dual guidewires inside, two‑handed operation—one to deploy the aortic stent, the other to embolize bleeding in the left liver lobe.

Looking back, these two maneuvers were meaningful. A little later, Director Miao would have died either from excessive bleeding or from a ruptured thoracic aortic dissection.

At a glance, Su Yun saw the outer layer of the thoracic aorta reduced to an extremely thin sheet—not just prone to rupture, but about to burst imminently.

Only because of hemorrhagic shock, with blood pressure barely detectable, did a balance persist. If we had first removed the spleen and liver to stanch bleeding—such a routine move—a rise in blood pressure would likely kill Director Miao on the operating table.

Phew… but how did this guy make the diagnosis?

Su Yun's mind instantly filled with countless questions—about the present and the past.

Bullshit rich clinical experience—how could Su Yun believe that! In his view, even I don't have that much experience, let alone others.

But diagnosis is one thing, operation another.

Although Su Yun watched Director Ma and Fang Lin perform surgery, what came to mind was a double‑guidewire, double‑action interventional procedure.

His skill is high enough; Su Yun isn't unfamiliar with international interventional experts. Having been close with Professor Rudolf Wagner, he already knew what the global interventional standard looks like.

Su Yun judged that his interventional ability ranks at least among the top fifty worldwide, covering visceral, neurovascular, vascular, and cardiac interventions.

But can he actually do it?

Not even mentioning handling two guidewires with both hands to do two different procedures—just focusing on the simplest thoracic aortic stent— the answer is obvious: he can't do it!

Although he harbored countless doubts, Su Yun didn't voice them; he locked them away.

Speak when you should, stay silent when you shouldn't—that's why Su Yun dares to talk back yet remains safe and has friends everywhere.

"The head injury is mild; inside looks fine now." The neurosurgery department head put away his penlight and exhaled.

Unlike thoracic or general surgery, neurosurgery lacks the craniotomy exploration procedure.

Without CT or nuclear magnetic resonance, nobody dares to go onstage for surgery.

If one really opened the skull and the bleed was elsewhere, that would be fatal. The head has no space; even locating the bleed is extremely difficult, a bloody mess.

All they can do is first examine the body, mainly judging the possibility of intracranial hemorrhage by observing the pupils. If thoracic and general surgery can rescue the patient, control hemorrhagic shock, and get a CT, they can go back up.

"Both pupils are equal and react weakly to light, but they react. Even if there's bleeding inside, the amount is likely small—no big problem." Seeing everyone's eyes on him, the neurosurgery chief finally added, somewhat confidently, a piece of good news.

As long as the pupils don't lose their light reflex, that's the best.

A glance at the monitor told everyone present that the blood pressure seemed to have stabilized!

60/40 mmHg—still low, but there was blood pressure. The time each organ spent ischemic and hypoxic wasn't long; likely no irreversible damage.

Surgery continued; a general surgery department staffer came, glanced at the operation. Seeing the abdomen covered with warm saline gauze, Professor Yang scrubbed in, went up, and examined it thoroughly. The entire abdominal field was clean—spleen removed, left liver lobe resected, no bleeding spots.

Zheng Lao Ban's surgery was excellent—Professor Yang praised it. Without mentioning bowel inspection and repair, just a left liver lobectomy would take him at least forty minutes.

That doesn't even include the time for opening the abdomen and hemostasis.

Looking at the removed left liver lobe in the pathology basin, Professor Yang also felt a lingering fear—torn to shreds, one can imagine how massive the bleeding was.

He carefully examined it for nearly half an hour; Zheng Lao Ban's surgery showed no flaw.

The surgery was perfect—whether resection, hemostasis, or repair of the right liver lobe, all were flawless.

"Professor Zheng Lao Ban, nothing else—I'll close up here?" Professor Yang didn't act on his own but turned to ask Zheng Ren.

"Troublesome." Zheng Ren said softly, eyes slightly shut, lashes trembling; though his face showed no expression, his inner turmoil was hard to hide.

"Professor Yang, can I go up and lend a hand?" Su Yun asked.

"No need, we have someone." Professor Yang smiled, also a bit sorrowful.

He didn't think Zheng Ren was putting on airs; having finished the surgery promptly, he at least spared Director Miao 500–1000 ml of blood. This was a life‑saving operation—likely Zheng Lao Ban was tense all through the rescue, now utterly exhausted.

Rescuing one's own people, then having no one step up—what a huge joke.