Chapter 19 — Emergency Night Watchman

In the afternoon when Phuong Chinh Thanh went to his room, I wonder if he saw something. He looked at me one more time: "What's wrong?"
"No problem."
“Red eye rim.”
“The wind blows.”
He did not inquire. But after going to the last room, he stood next to the nurse's station and suddenly said something seemingly unrelated:
“Shen Yen, the most difficult thing to deal with in this world is not the critically ill patient coming to the Emergency Department—it's the 'relatives' who come to you with old wounds.”
I looked at him. He looked at the rows of corn plants outside the window.
"Emergency has clear treatment procedures. Stop the bleeding, ventilate, maintain circulation. But the old wound—there were no instructions. She could only stop the bleeding herself."
He turned his head to look at me.
“Can you hold it?”
I opened my mouth.
"I got it. I got it a long time ago."
“That's good.” He patted my shoulder, "Go back and correct the revised table. Chu Yen Binh said there is a problem with the P value in the third table holding decimal numbers."
Seamless scene transitions. As always. 【Chapter 12】 June. All practice assessments passed. The theory exam ranks first among all doctors in the hospital. Test your skills to get a perfect score. When defending the case, after the examiner finished asking questions, they were silent for ten seconds, then said one sentence: "You can go, there are no more questions." The fast track is officially completed. The day my doctor's practice certificate was approved, Phuong Chinh Thanh took the certificate from the Training Department, gave it to me and said one sentence:
"Starting today, you are a doctor with a practicing certificate. The right to prescribe, the right to sign, the right to independently diagnose, you all have."
I received the red certificate. Turn the first page. Photo taken half a year ago, I'm wearing a blouse, with a serious expression. Name: Tham Yen. Type of practice: clinical. Scope of practice: emergency medicine. I stared at those words for a long time. Starting today— I don't need to beg anyone to sign anymore. When I see the countdown, I can take action directly. No need to step up, no need to explain, no need to be blocked outside the door by the question "What does a rebellious doctor like you rely on?"
“How does it feel?” Phuong Chinh Thanh asked.
I closed the certificate.
“It feels like I've finally mastered the surgical knife—in the past I've always used it to save people.”
He laughed. A very short, very faint smile, but I see it.
"Okay. Starting tomorrow, you will be on duty as an official resident doctor. I have registered a place to stay in the Emergency Department for you. If nothing unexpected happens—in August you will be an official resident doctor in the Emergency Department."
“Director Phuong.”
"YES?"
“Thank you for half a year.”
“Don't thank me.” He retracted his smile, restoring his forever unwavering expression, "Starting from today, under each of your signatures is a human life. This weight—is much heavier than a certificate."
"I know."
He nodded.
"Go ahead. Tonight is your first official shift. Do well."
That evening. I wore a blouse and stood behind the emergency triage table. The identity line on the name card before the chest, from "registration doctor" changed to "resident doctor". Just a small line of text different. But when the first patient walked in— I looked up at him. The top of the head is clean. Common cold. I breathed a sigh of relief, smiled and said: "Hello, I'm feeling uncomfortable where?" This is the first patient I have accepted as an official doctor. Normal, normal, normal. But I know— There will always be some deep night. When someone walked in, there were blood-red letters above their heads. At that point, I don't need to call anyone anymore. I will be the one to answer the phone. From today onwards. It's okay if you don't know Tham Yen during the day. Deep in the night, she's on duty—the deans can sleep peacefully. Because what should be left to her to bear, she can already bear it. The lights in the banquet room dimmed one degree, the host went on stage to announce the time for free exchange. The crowd began to move. I stood in the corner, drinking the last sip of orange juice in the glass. I don't know when Chu Yen Binh came to my side.
“What are you thinking?”
“Think about the future.”
“What later?”
“Once the validation model is approved—if it can truly be disseminated to emergency departments nationwide.” I looked at the sign “History of the Development of Chinese Emergency Medicine” on the opposite wall, “How many cases of aortic dissection are missed and misdiagnosed each year in the country? If our model can increase the early recognition rate by even ten percent…”
“So that's several thousand people every year.” Chu Yen Binh finished speaking for me.
“Yes.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Do you know what the biggest difference is between you and other young doctors?”
I looked at him.
“Other people do research for a thesis, a promotion, a grant. You do research because—so that other people can see what you see.”
My heart beat heavily. He didn't know what I really "saw". But he accidentally spoke the deepest thought in my heart. One day, my eyes will finally no longer be able to see those words.