The patient quickly replied, "Yes, yes. I got up at five and took it."
He followed the doctor's instructions from last night: fasting and abstaining from fluids, and only took a sip of water for his morning medication.
"Doctor, will the intubation hurt?" the patient asked again.
"Don't worry, it won't hurt. You won't be conscious by then. Your throat might be a little uncomfortable after extubation."
Sensing the patient was overly anxious, which could affect his blood pressure, Xu Qinghe started a conversation to divert his attention: "Is the person accompanying you your daughter?"
"Yes, my daughter." Mentioning his daughter, the patient spoke with satisfaction and pride. "She's a PhD in engineering, already graduated, and has a good job."
Xu Qinghe smiled and praised, "A PhD in engineering—that's impressive."
The patient smiled back, "You doctors are impressive too. Every one of you is a PhD or postdoc. You kids have it hard; getting a doctorate is tough."
As they chatted, the patient visibly relaxed. Although still a bit nervous, his blood pressure didn't fluctuate much.
Xu Qinghe: "Uncle, let's start with some oxygen."
Patient: "Okay, okay."
After administering the medication, the patient gradually lost consciousness.
Zhang Xun helped secure the mask and provided oxygen under pressure.
When muscle relaxation was achieved, Xu Qinghe began intubation.
The surgery was performed by Dean Jiang.
Due to pleural adhesions, the entire procedure lasted two hours and forty minutes.
After the surgery, Dean Jiang stepped down from the table and casually replied to a voice message.
He said warmly into his phone, "Hey, Wenli, I have another surgery this afternoon, probably finishing around four. Come by around four thirty; I should be here."
"If I'm not, just leave the materials in the dean's office."
Shi Wenli was mentioned, and Xu Qinghe listened quietly.
Dean Jiang personally asking about materials probably meant an important project application.
As for her, the only things the dean asked about were complaints and self-criticisms.
After replying to the message, Dean Jiang didn't rush off. He turned to Xu Qinghe beside him: "Shi Wenli is finally back."
Xu Qinghe: "..."
That remark didn't seem to be for no reason.
Dean Jiang was about to say something when his phone rang again—a work call.
He had intended to chat with her after she finished, but now he didn't have time. He walked out of the operating room quickly with his phone.
When it came to Xu Qinghe, all he could do was sigh.
Today, she had been complained about by the surgery department again.
The anesthesiology and surgery departments were naturally at odds, sometimes even "incompatible," with various disputes and complaints almost daily.
And Xu Qinghe was the most stubborn and principled anesthesiologist, leading to constant arguments with various surgical departments during work.
Complaints about her reached him frequently.
But she was also a key talent the hospital was cultivating—a versatile anesthesiologist. Among the younger generation, few had her talent and willingness to work hard.
She was technically excellent, so he couldn't scold or criticize her.
These trivial conflicts within the hospital gave him headaches.
The dean's office staff told him: It'll be better once Shi Wenli is back. They have a good relationship, and Dr. Xu listens to him.
Since then, he had become the person in the hospital most looking forward to Shi Wenli's return from training.
--
Xu Qinghe had seven anesthesia cases today. The last patient woke up at 6:10 PM.
Last Friday, there was a heavy snow that hadn't melted, and this afternoon, snowflakes began to fall again.
She glanced out the window; it had finally stopped.
After changing out of her scrubs and coming out of the locker room, Zhang Xun was still waiting for her.
Zhang Xun rubbed his hands together. He had gone downstairs to get something from the car without wearing a coat, shivering from the cold.
Xu Qinghe put on her white coat and said, "You're off work. Go home quickly."
"Senior sister, it's freezing outside. Let me walk you out."
Xu Qinghe didn't drive; she usually walked to and from work.
She thanked him: "No need. I can manage even at minus ten degrees."
Her home was relatively close to the hospital, and she was used to walking even in rain or wind.
Everyone in the hospital knew she had held a driver's license for years but had never driven even a hundred meters.
She rarely encountered opponents in anesthesia skills competitions but couldn't handle a steering wheel.