Chapter 18 — Emergency Night Watchman

When Chu Yen Binh sent me an email, it included a line: 【Congratulations. The first round of editing is small, basically equivalent to receiving. After editing, send it back and post it within two weeks.】 I stared at the words "minor edit" for a long time. EHJ. Impact index 39.3. While still in recovery, the first author published in a leading global journal in the field of cardiology. The speed at which this story spread out was much faster than I thought. Because Chu Yen Binh mentioned a sentence in the faculty meeting. Then the whole hospital knew.
"That doctor from the Emergency Department? EHJ?"
“What a joke… our dean is still being rejected by JAMA…”
"Isn't it said that Phuong Chinh Thanh guided? What treasure did Director Phuong pick up?"
The sound of gossip is like willow silk in spring, flying everywhere. I still keep my head down and work as usual. Phuong Chinh Thanh said - work humbly, let achievements silence others. But there are mouths that cannot be covered by achievements. April fourteenth. I'm replacing the central venous catheter for bed number three in the EICU. Outside the door came an unusual commotion. The nurses whispered to each other. Tieu Lam poked her head in: "Doctor Tham... someone is looking for you outside the door."
"Who?"
“Say… your mother.”
My hand stopped. The action of replacing the catheter stopped during the sterilization step.
"...Tell her to sit in the waiting area for her family for a moment. I'll come over after I'm done with this."
"Yes."
Hand movements restart. Antiseptic, toweling, needle insertion, tube placement, fixation, bandaging. A set of mechanically completed processes that flow smoothly. But my heart rate was at least twenty beats faster than usual. My mother. Someone I haven't seen in three years. To be precise—after taking the university entrance exam, I left that house with a full scholarship, and I have never returned. Tet doesn't come back. The phone doesn't answer. WeChat removed one-way a long time ago. How did you find your way here? I took off my gloves, washed my hands, took a deep breath, and walked out of the EICU. On a plastic chair in the family waiting area, there was a woman sitting. Over fifty years old, thin, high cheekbones, wearing a dark red jacket that had been washed until it was ruffled. In his hand, he clutched a black nylon bag, his knuckles were thick and thick, it was a hand that worked hard all year round. Seeing me leave, she immediately stood up.
“Yen…”
I stood three meters away, not coming closer.
“How did you find your way here?”
Her eyes were red: "I went to your school to ask... they said you were returning to this hospital... Yen Yen, I've been looking for you for a long time..."
“Is there something wrong?”
She was choked by my tone. Her trembling lips parted, holding up the nylon bag in her hand.
“Bring me some bacon from home… I liked it the most when I was little…”
“I don't eat.” I said, "There's business to talk about. There's no need for me to go back to work."
She stood there blankly, her arm holding the bag of hard bacon in mid-air. Then slowly lowered, tears falling.
“Yen Yen… I know I was wrong for you before… but your younger brother…”
I closed my eyes for a bit. Here we come. Every time we contact, it's because of her beloved son.
“What does it do?”
"There was a problem with his business... he owed someone three hundred thousand... people came to his house to collect the debt, and my father was pushed down and broke his leg..."
“So you came to me to ask for money?”
"I'm not asking for money! I'm not here to ask for money—I just want to see you..."
“Three years of no contact, I posted EHJ and she didn't know, I saved her the grandmother did not know. She knew that my younger brother owed money.”
Her shoulders shrank, as if she had been slapped. In the hallway, a nurse passed by, her steps were hurried, the afterglow swept over us. I don't want to make a scene in the hospital.
“You go home.” My voice lowered, “I won't give you money. My brother's debt is his business. Dad's leg needs to be examined at the hospital, health insurance can pay for it."
“Yen Yen…”
“I'm done talking.”
I turned around and went home. Behind her came her suppressed crying, carrying the patience and self-pity typical of country women. I don't turn around. The fingernails in the palm of the hand dig into the flesh. I won't turn back. Eighteen years. For eighteen years, they gave their younger brother all the resources, all the attention, all the favors. I pay my own tuition. I pay my own living expenses. The day I passed the seamless bachelor's and master's program at the Provincial Medical University, the first thing my mother said on the phone was: "What if my younger brother doesn't get into college this year? Is there any way I can help him?" Not congratulations. Not proud. It's—“I have a future, so I have to help my brother.” I helped. From first year to fourth year, every year I withdrew half of the scholarship for them. Until my fourth year, I fainted in the lab—overwork combined with malnutrition. I woke up and discovered that my mother's living expenses for that month had been transferred from my card, "to pay for my younger brother's driving lessons." She didn't even ask me a question. That day I canceled that bank card. Change phone number. Cut off all contact. Three years. Today she came, not because she missed me. But because you need me. These two things have different natures. I went back to the EICU and sat in the on-call room calmly for five minutes. Finished cleaning up my emotions. Keep working.