Chapter 2 — People Who Live in the Middle of the Process

"Surgery has risks, I need to make it clear to you. Including but not limited to massive bleeding during surgery, organ damage, anesthesia complications, post-operative infection —"
"I know I know! Save someone first!"
“Please sign here, here, and here too, then point.”
She signed her name tremblingly. I looked at the clock. From the moment she walked in the door until she finished signing, four minutes. Plus the fourteen minutes of waiting before that. Eighteen minutes total. Blood pressure has dropped to 72/48. Is there still time? Timely. Once I sit here, it means I still have time to evaluate. Just barely missed it. It's really just a little bit of a limit. But — in time. I'm not at the point of losing my mind and my conscience. I'm just stopping all kinds of "it's okay", "just say it out loud", "will add more next time". It's as simple as that. The surgery went very smoothly. Spleen ruptured, half removed. Adjust the ribs and drain the pleura. Three hours later, the patient was transferred to the ICU and his vital signs were stable. I washed my hands, took off my surgical gown, and looked at the clock. Exactly six o'clock in the afternoon. It's time to get off work. I left. Return on time. Because Article 4 of the "Regulations on employee overtime management" stipulates: Overtime must be approved in advance. I haven't asked for approval yet. So I don't do more. When I walked out of the hospital gate, security guard Truong glanced at me, his expression as if he had seen a ghost.
"Doctor Trinh... Are you... already off work?"
“Work is over, Mr. Truong.”
“Oh… oh.”
It's been eight years. This is the first time I left work on time. It feels… pretty good. Seven fifty-five the next morning. When I entered the department, the atmosphere was a bit different. That magical feeling of tension is exactly like the gloomy sky before a storm. Indeed. At half past eight, the announcement was sent - an unexpected meeting, the entire faculty participated, and the Director presided. Director Luu Duc Thang. To be honest, I don't have any special feelings for this person, just a typical middle-level official in the institution, neither good nor bad, the best thing is to be gentle and noble, three musts. But today. He's not right anymore. There were more than twenty people sitting in the meeting room. When I walked in, everyone's eyes swept over at once. I found a place in the last row to sit down. Luu Duc Thang sat at the head of a long row of tables, his face pale. In his hand was a stack of documents. There is also a complaint. Another complaint.
"The patient had a traffic accident yesterday afternoon, the family has filed a complaint."
He slammed that piece of paper on the table with a "pop".
"The doctor said he couldn't save him. He was clearly about to die but he was still waiting to sign! Waiting for eighteen minutes!"
The entire meeting room was as quiet as paper. Everyone's eyes were focused on me. I have no expression at all.
“Trinh Lam.”
When Luu Duc Thang called my name, his voice was trying to suppress his anger.
“Please explain.”
I stood up. Don't rush, don't panic. Take the notebook out of your pocket and open it to yesterday's page.
“Dear Director, I followed the correct procedure.”
"What process? When human life is more important than heaven, why are you standing there waiting to sign?!"
“Clause 2, Section 3, Chapter 4 of ‘Emergency Diagnosis and Treatment Regulations’.”
I read it. Every sentence, every word.
“For the cases other than cardiac arrest, suffocation, etc. It is necessary to immediately resuscitate, and operations related to invasive surgery must be prioritized to obtain the consent of family members after a clear explanation."
Luu Duc Thang moved his lips. I didn't give him a chance to open his mouth.
"The family's phone rang through. They clearly said they were rushing over and were expected to arrive in twenty minutes."
"The patient at that time, although his vital signs were unstable, had not yet reached the critical criteria for cardiac arrest."
“I have initiated the emergency communication process, and in the meantime, I am continuously monitoring, always ready to initiate emergency treatment.”
I closed the notebook.
"The entire process was monitored by cameras, recorded, and signed by a nurse."
“Did not violate any regulations.”
The last sentence, I intentionally emphasized. The meeting room is so quiet that you can even hear the hum of the air conditioner. Luu Duc Thang's temples twitched. He opened his mouth, wanted to say something, then closed it again. Because what can he say? Saying “You should have acted against the rules”? Three months ago, what punished me was this system. Three months later, the thing that questions me is still this system. It turns out that regulations are just a lump of clay, leaders can mold them however they want? Okay. So I definitely won't let you squeeze it. I harden each regulation one by one, leaving no elasticity. He squeezed it and tried it. If you have the courage, just do it. The silence lasted about ten seconds. The person who broke it was Tien Duy Minh. He sat next to Luu Duc Thang, cleared his throat, and the "mediator" expression appeared again.
“Doctor Trinh, what you said is not wrong, in terms of procedure, there really is no problem. But —”
“But what?”
I looked at him.