Chapter 6 — People Who Live in the Middle of the Process

Ton Le opened her mouth and smiled bitterly.
“You really intend to drive everyone crazy, right?”
“Not forced to go crazy.” I raised the bowl of instant noodles again, "But let them know, the rules are not springs. You can't stretch them when you want them, then pull them, and if you want them to relax, then let them go."
She looked at me for a long time, then nodded.
“Okay, I will convey the message for you.”
Walking to the door, she turned around again: "Trinh Lam."
"Yes?"
“You… are sicker than you were three months ago.”
“Probably because I ate too much instant noodles.”
She didn't say anything more and left. I really got sick. It's not because of the instant noodle problem. It's three months at home, insomnia, anxiety, constantly wondering — what did I do wrong? The final conclusion when thinking back and forth is: I didn't do anything wrong. But this conclusion doesn't make me feel any better. Because a person who “did no wrong” was punished for three months, this in itself is the greatest irony. So I chose another path. No objections. No denunciation. Don't complain. It's just — whatever you teach, I'll do it the same way. Not an inch wrong. Not a single word missing. Do you guys feel uncomfortable? So that's right. Next month's on-call schedule is available. My night shift has not decreased one day. Tran Kien Quan probably considered it and felt that having to tell me the reason in writing was too troublesome. Smart person. One night of duty in the second week. Two forty minutes in the morning. The emergency department radio rang. Dispatch Center 120 announced: A private car crashed into the back of a truck, two people in the car were trapped, demolition has been completed, two injured people are being transported. Estimated time of arrival (ETA) is eight minutes. I sat up from the folding bed in the on-call room, put on my shoes, and washed my face. When I walked to the emergency room, intern Tieu Chu had already prepared all the equipment.
"Miss Trinh, 120 said there was one case with minor injuries and one case with serious injuries. The seriously injured person had a traumatic brain injury and open fractures."
“Where are the family members?”
“There is no information yet.”
“Um.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours and forty-six minutes. Eight minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Pushed in two stretchers. The first person, male, about thirty years old, had a scratch on his face and a broken bone in his right forearm. He was conscious and in pain to the point of grimacing, but his spirit was still quite good. The second person — I saw that face clearly. Half of his face was covered in blood, and the first aid bandage on his head was soaked. But I'm familiar with that half of my face that isn't obscured by blood. Tien Duy Minh. Head of Medical Department. It was the same person who three months ago patted me on the shoulder and said “the procedure is to protect you”. I was stunned for about 0.3 seconds. Then restore calm. Step forward, take a look at the pupil - the left pupil is dilated. Open the bandage to examine the wound - the temple area has a broken bone, and there are signs of herniated brain tissue. Epidural hematoma. Urgent need for decompressive craniotomy. I turned my head and glanced at the monitor. Blood pressure is skyrocketing — a typical compensatory response to increased intracranial pressure. Consciousness assessment — GCS about 6 points. Deep coma. Cannot sign by yourself.
“Where are the family members?”
Tieu Chu shook his head: "The emergency worker following the car said he contacted him but couldn't call." I nodded. Pull up a chair. Sit down. Take out the shift notebook. Start writing. Tieu Chu looked My actions, my face changed.
“Miss… Miss Trinh…”
“What?”
“This is… Head of Money Department.”
"I know." I didn't bother to raise my head, "Continue to contact my family."
“But his condition… if the intracranial pressure continues to increase…”
“Continue to contact family members.”
I put down my pen and looked at him.
“You understand the process, right?”
Tieu Chu's lips trembled.
“Invasive surgery is not a case of cardiac arrest and requires informed consent from family members.”
“It was the Head of Money who taught me.”
“I won't forget.”
Two fifty-three in the morning. In the emergency room, there was only the beeping sound of the monitor. Tien Duy Minh lay on a stretcher, breathing heavily. He doesn't know where he is. I also don't know who the person sitting next to me is taking notes. But I know. I watched the numbers dance on the monitor. Blood pressure 178/102. Heart rate 56. Cushing reflex. Intracranial pressure is increasing. His remaining golden time was roughly… thirty to forty minutes. Beyond this time, brain herniation will occur; Even if he had a craniotomy, he could still become a vegetable. I remember clearly — I met his wife once at the faculty's year-end party, a woman in her forties, curly hair, looking very gentle. Phone calls don't go through. Three o'clock in the morning. Normal people are sleeping. Maybe the phone is on silent mode.
“Miss Trinh… should we prepare the operating room first?” Tieu Chu cautiously probed.
“Have you contacted your family yet?”
“Still calling… but no one answers the phone…”
“Then keep calling.”
“But —”
“Do you want to sign for him?” I looked at Tieu Chu, "You sign, I will operate."
Tieu Chu swallowed saliva.