Surgery Godfather
Chapter 1271 - 967: Is Being the World’s First That Easy?_2

Chapter 1271: Chapter 967: Is Being the World’s First That Easy?_2

Actually, Director Liao paid extra attention to his health, never skimping on various health products. Cordyceps were a year-round staple, whether stewed in soups or soaked in water. However, social obligations were unavoidable. He wouldn’t be able to quit drinking until retirement; otherwise, the stock price of Maotai wouldn’t be so fierce—Director Liao had also contributed to that.

"Professor Yang, what if the pathological examination reveals something bad?" Director Liao asked cautiously.

Yang Ping could only reassure him, "It’s fine, don’t be nervous. Whatever the examination reveals, we will handle it. If it’s benign, we will observe; if it’s malignant, we will proceed with surgery. Early surgery generally has very good effects."

"Didn’t you say that the chances of it being malignant are slim?"

Hearing Yang Ping’s fifty-fifty statement, Director Liao grew anxious again.

Local anesthesia is usually used for lung nodule biopsies, so the patient remains conscious. The chief surgeon can chat with the patient while performing the surgery. Song Zimo assisted Yang Ping, beginning with disinfection and draping.

With such a small lung nodule, no doctor would choose to biopsy, but Yang Ping was not a normal person. Song Zimo had become accustomed to this; things others couldn’t do, Yang Ping could. It wasn’t the first time such a thing happened; it happened every day.

The alcohol-infused disinfectant smeared on Director Liao’s skin evaporated, causing a chilling sensation on his chest: "Professor Yang, please make sure the biopsy reveals a benign result."

"If I were able to decide on my own and make it benign for you, then right now, I wouldn’t be applying for the Nobel Prize for a complex ’Spatial Orientation Gene Theory’ but rather for the mechanism of ’Making tumors turn benign with a biopsy’."

"Try your best!" Yang Ping replied.

Biopsy requires image equipment monitoring, and such a nodule biopsy must use navigational equipment. Navigation equipment is essentially a CT scanner with special functions. After Song Zimo finished his preparatory work, he said, "Professor, go put on the lead apron."

Yang Ping glanced at Director Liao’s CT images. "No need, just a quick exposure, I don’t need constant monitoring."

Thus, everyone left the room. The navigation operator remotely controlled the machine to scan the lung. After the scan was complete, everyone re-entered the operating room, thereby avoiding prolonged exposure to X-rays.

Yang Ping donned his gown and gloves, and after one look at the CT images on the navigation screen, he raised the biopsy needle, slowly inserted it between the ribs, then instructed everyone to leave for another scan. As expected, the needle had reached the center of the nodule.

He withdrew the biopsy needle and sent the extracted tissue as a specimen to the Pathology Department for examination. Although Song Zimo had been shocked by Yang Ping countless times, he was still astonished now.

As for Yang Ping’s astonishing actions, Song Zimo felt that he would never become immune to them in his lifetime.

A lung nodule less than 0.5 centimeters, pierced to its center in just a few minutes—the needle going in and out once, and the job was done! What level of skill was this.

A tiny nodule of less than 0.5 centimeters, just like that, it was taken care of.

While cleaning up, Song Zimo asked, "How did you do it?"

"Pure proficiency!" Yang Ping replied.

"Professor Yang, is it benign?"

Lying under the sterile drape, Director Liao asked worriedly.

"I hope it’s benign!" Yang Ping replied.

"How could it be so soon? The specimen hasn’t even been sent yet. Pathological examination results take 3 to 5 working days—don’t rush, don’t talk. Talking can cause a pneumothorax." Song Zimo cautioned the anxious director.

---

Ou Lianfeng was wandering around Sanbo Hospital, hoping to find a part-time job. Although he had received some compensation, after calculating, he realized that if he used the compensation for his lungs, there wouldn’t be much left. Later, he also received a subsidy from the Sanbo Hospital fund, so he now had a considerable amount of money in hand.

But this money was earned through life-risking means. Ou Lianfeng dared not relax even a bit. He knew that after a lung transplant, doing physical labor was impossible; he basically couldn’t generate income on his own. Continuous use of immunosuppressive drugs, as well as all sorts of follow-up checks, would cost money. If any complications arose, his million-plus savings would not last long.

In the ICU, a patient who relied on ECMO for survival had family members hesitating outside, debating whether to give up treatment or to continue fighting. A heated argument erupted among the family. The patient’s parents insisted on a rescue attempt, but they had no money. The siblings also wanted to rescue but couldn’t afford it. His wife wanted to continue treatment, yet again, there was no money. The next step would be to sell their house, but then, with nothing left, what would they do if they ended up broke in the end? Moreover, the doctors had said that even if they poured in the money, the chances were slim.

Ou Lianfeng was always waiting for his lung transplant, and whenever he thought about it, he felt extremely unethical for coveting someone else’s lungs, even though he didn’t know who they were. Whenever this thought crossed his mind, he was overcome with a strong sense of guilt.

After several days of searching and not finding a suitable job, he was a man with no diploma, no skills, and no longer had the physical strength to earn money. Where could he find work? Sweeping floors, washing dishes, or working as a security guard—there was no place for him.

He wanted to work as a security guard, the kind that watches the factory gate. So, he asked an old man at a factory, but the security guard, who seemed to be in his fifties, was the factory manager’s relative. Not just anyone could sit there and operate the remote controller for opening and closing the gate—you needed to be related to the factory manager.

Some suggested he drive for Didi, but without a car, how could he? Would he use an electric scooter?

Delivering food, but now, he was a man who became short of breath just by walking. Even if he didn’t collapse on the street, he would still be late and fined for every delivery.