Chapter 3 — From now on, mountains and rivers do not match each other

I found my father's medical practice certificate and my medical school diploma - fortunately, at that time I didn't listen to the Luc family's advice and threw these things away. Van Chau city is not big, but there are quite a few Oriental medicine clinics. I went to each place to ask if they needed a doctor to examine them. Most of them tactfully refused, until I went to "Nhan Hoa Duong" in the west of the city. The examiner was an old man over sixty years old, surnamed Qin, wearing glasses and taking the patient's pulse. Waiting for the patient to leave, I stepped forward to explain my purpose of coming here. Mr. Tan looked over my diploma, then asked me to try writing a few prescriptions.

"Solid foundation," he nodded, "But lack of experience. How about this, you just follow me to see the medical first, try the job for three months, the salary is not high, do you agree?"

“I agree!” I quickly accepted.

Having a place to accept it is already a blessing. From then on, every morning, I cycle to Nhan Hoa Duong. Teacher Tan rarely speaks, but teaches very conscientiously. From looking, listening, asking, checking the pulse) to identifying medicinal herbs, from adding and reducing ancient remedies to acupuncture and massage, he devoted himself to imparting everything. I also studied very seriously, as if I wanted to make up for all five years of wasted youth. Three months passed very quickly. At the end of the month, Mr. Tan gave me an envelope: "It's been officially accepted. From now on, you'll sit for the exam on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, you'll study with me, and have a day off on Sundays." I held the envelope, my eye sockets heated up.

“Thank you, teacher.”

Teacher Tan waved his hand: "It's your own effort. But Vu Vi," he paused, "You have a kind of aura on your body, like holding a breath. To practice medicine, the mind must be calm, the energy must be favorable." I was stunned, then nodded vigorously. That night, I stood in front of the mirror and looked for a long time. The woman in the mirror was still thin, but her cheeks were a little red and her eyes were bright. I smiled at the person in the mirror:

“Khuong Vu Vi, let's start again.”

—

The days passed peacefully like a small stream. When I was examined at Nhan Hoa Duong for half a year, I was able to handle many common diseases on my own. Neighbors knew that I was Dr. Khuong's daughter and were willing to come to me for medical examination. One Wednesday afternoon, it rained heavily. There weren't many patients in the clinic. I was rearranging prescriptions when I suddenly heard rapid footsteps.

“Doctor! Are you here?!”

Jumping in was a wet teenager, holding a baby girl in his arms. The girl was about seven or eight years old, her face was pale, her breathing was rapid.

“What's wrong with her?” I immediately stood up.

“Fall down the stairs, hit my head on the steps, can't wake up now…” The teenager's voice trembled, raindrops followed his hair and fell onto her face.

I laid her flat on the examination bed, checked her pupils, heart rate, and breathing rate.

“How long has it been since you hit your head?”

“About… half an hour.” The teenager wiped his face with his hand, "My house is right next door, I ran here."

I quickly did acupuncture to stop the bleeding, then gave me an An Cung Nguu Hoang Hoan pill.

“Had to be taken to the hospital for a CT scan, possible brain hemorrhage.”

The boy's face turned even whiter: "I don't have money..."

“Save your life first.” I called 120 (emergency), then called Mr. Tan to clarify the situation.

Before When the ambulance arrived, I was always by her side. The teenager stood next to him, his hands clenched into fists.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Lam Da.” He said hoarsely, "This is my sister, Lam Nguyet."

“Where are your parents?”

“No more.” He spit out two words, determined not to say more.

The ambulance arrived, I went with them to the hospital. The test results were immediate — subdural hematoma, requiring immediate surgery. When the red light in the operating room lit up, Lam Da leaned his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the ground.