The Surgeon's Studio

Chapter 172: I Want To Contact The Control Tower

The diagnosis was highlighted in bloody red on the System panel at the upper right corner of Zheng Ren’s vision—type I aortic dissection.

An aortic dissection was defined as a tear in the intimal layer of the aorta that resulted in the propagation of dissection, either proximally or distally, secondary to blood entering the intima-media space.

It was an acute, life-threatening condition with its chance of occurrence ranging between one-one-hundred-thousandth and one-two-hundred-thousandth, commonly seen in patients suffering from hypertension or arteriosclerosis.

Despite its extremely low probability, it was actually not uncommon in a hospital.

Millions of people lived in the city, and dozens would suffer this disease each year, a dreadful condition for all clinicians.

In Sea City, this disease was... incurable.

Even if type I aortic dissection was surgically treated in the provincial capital, the chance of survival remained low as well.

Apart from cardiac transplantation, this was one of the most dangerous surgeries in the cardiothoracic surgery department. In fact, transplanting a heart was not as complicated as surgically treating a case of type I aortic dissection.

Zheng Ren’s heart rate instantly skyrocketed to 122 beats per minute. He quickly stood and used the seats to support himself as he moved to Cui Heming’s side.

The anxious Cui Heming was sweating profusely, his face chalk-white as he struggled to breathe like a beached fish.

“Quiet, everyone must be quiet,” Zheng Ren said in a deep voice, “Calm down, I’m here.”

Cui Heming reached out and grabbed Zheng Ren firmly like a drowning man clutching at straws.

“Miss flight attendant, I’m a doctor. Is there a place wide enough for him to lie down?” asked Zheng Ren.

The stewardess became frightened as soon as she saw Cui Heming’s condition.

Her mind went blank as she had never seen anyone with such a horrible appearance. Upon hearing Zheng Ren’s question, she subconsciously pointed at the first-class cabin in the front and said, “The seats over there can be reclined.”

“Can you please prepare an empty chair for him? I’m going to calm him down before transferring him there.”

Zheng Ren knew that any sudden movement could aggravate the symptoms of type I aortic dissection.

Any sudden changes in blood pressure could completely rupture the aorta.

Once the aorta ruptured... the patient would die immediately!

“Cui Heming, do you know who I am?” Zheng Ren stared into Cui Heming’s eyes and asked seriously.

“You’re Doctor Zheng.” Cui Heming’s lips trembled as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and temples.

“You don’t have to speak. My medical skill is very good, so I need you to trust me, alright?” said Zheng Ren.

This was a psychological suggestion, but anyone who said it was considered to have a sense of responsibility.

Despite his intense discomfort, Zheng Ren’s hand seemed to give Cui Heming a sense of security amidst his disorientation.

The helplessness of that night, the compliments the old professor in Imperial Capital had given, the silk banner in his hands, the patients’ sincere gratitude outside the emergency building... These were the cornerstones of his sense of security.

He tried his best to nod.

“Please relax, don’t be nervous. I’ll carry you to the front so that you can lie down.” Zheng Ren clenched Cui Heming’s hand firmly to reassure him. Then, he said, “Miss flight attendant, may I ask for a stretcher?”

“Yes,” the stewardess answered quickly.

There were stretchers on the airplane, but most people had never seen them before.

Nobody hoped to see it, either.

“Su Yun, lend me a hand!” said Zheng Ren, his voice was not loud but determined and commanding.

Su Yun finally removed his earphones and looked to the back.

Puzzled, he still had no clue what was going on, but the authority in Zheng Ren’s voice was obvious and the aura of a superior was on full display.

Su Yun immediately assisted the flight attendants in carrying the stretcher to Cui Heming’s side without wasting any time asking questions.

“Relax, relax. Breathe normally, and don’t take deep breaths,” said Zheng Ren softly like a psychologist hypnotizing a patient.

Zheng Ren had self-learned some basics of psychology, which he was subconsciously using.

He just wished that Cui Heming’s blood pressure would not elevate from anxiety.

Once the aorta ruptured...

He would be doomed!

Cui Heming’s respiratory rate gradually normalized and his contorted face softened slightly, presumably due to Zheng Ren’s successful hypnotism or the unlimited Charm he had obtained as the System reward.

The intermittent severe pain was still gnawing continuously at him.

A minute later, Zheng Ren judged that Cui Heming’s condition had stabilized and carefully transferred him onto the stretcher.

In the first-class cabin, the flight attendants had already reclined an empty seat.

“What happened?” asked a passenger in the first-class cabin.

Zheng Ren glanced at the passenger. He was the middle-aged man who had wheeled the elderly man with advanced lung cancer to the airplane just now.

“High blood pressure with some minor issues. He’s fine,” replied Zheng Ren.

That man immediately came to assist after noticing Cui Heming’s condition.

One’s blood pressure in a supine position was more stable than if one was in a sitting position, which was why Zheng Ren had to move him despite the huge risk.

However, Zheng Ren could only try to make Cui Heming as comfortable as possible due to limited resources on the plane.

“Do you have a sphygmomanometer?” asked Zheng Ren.

The middle-aged woman took out a portable sphygmomanometer from the first-aid kit, which Su Yun immediately took and used to measure Cui Heming’s blood pressure.

After transferring Cui Heming to the flattened empty seat, the middle-aged man pulled Zheng Ren aside and asked softly, “He doesn’t seem fine. What’s your diagnosis?”

“Type I aortic dissection.” The words squeezed through Zheng Ren’s slightly parted lips.

The middle-aged man immediately put on a stern expression.

“And you are?” asked Zheng Ren, staring at the first-aid kit.

“I’m Xia Hua, a cardiothoracic surgeon from Harbin Medical University Affiliated Second Hospital.” Xia Hua extended his hand.

Zheng Ren shook his hand and said, “I’m Zheng Ren from Sea City General Hospital. Do you have medicine?”

“Oral hypertensive drugs only. I don’t have an infusion pump or any drugs for intravenous injection.” Xia Hua looked helpless.

“That’s good enough. Double the dosage for beta-blockers and vasodilators. Do you have any analgesics?” Zheng Ren assumed command of the resuscitation without the slightest hesitation.

Xia Hua was taken aback. Zheng Ren’s tone... he sounded like a chief consultant of his department.

However, Zheng Ren looked like he was only in his twenties. Where did he acquire such confidence?

He was unsure if this patient could be rescued even in the cardiothoracic surgery department at Harbin Medical University Affiliated Second Hospital, let alone on an airplane with limited medical resources.

This confidence... was baffling.

Even so, Xia Hua remained silent and took the medicine—metoprolol, nitroglycerin and an analgesic—out of the first-aid kit. Then, he asked for a bottle of water from the stewardess before giving them to Cui Heming.

Su Yun finished measuring the man’s blood pressure, he approached Zheng Ren and softly reported the result: “Blood pressure at 195/125mmHg,”

No one made a noise out of worry that the sudden racket could aggravate Cui Heming’s condition and elevate his blood pressure.

A chill seeped into Zheng Ren’s heart.

That was an extremely high blood pressure. Without any antihypertensive drug injection, Cui Heming could die in the very next second.

Zheng Ren grabbed the arm of the stewardess, who was about to report the situation to the captain, and said in a calm but demanding voice. “Miss flight attendant, I want to contact the control tower.”