Chapter 4 — The Patient I Saved Twice

No one responded. But he didn't care. He put his arm around Tran Phuong's shoulder and walked towards the elevator. When you reach the elevator door. Maybe he felt he was far enough away from the nurse's station. You should take out your phone and make a call. The volume is not small. In the enclosed space of the elevator, the echo echoed clearly.

"Mr. Phuong, the money has been received."

“200,000 yuan, not a penny missing.”

“I'll invite you out to eat another day.”

The elevator door opens. He walked in. Right before the door closes. I also heard him laugh and say one more sentence:

“That doctor girl is very cowardly.”

“The hospital just put a little pressure on it and they accepted it.”

"I don't dare even protest a word."

The elevator door closed. The nurse's station was silent for a few seconds. Ms. Trieu put down the pen. Turn to look at me. And I still bowed my head and wrote the medical records. Hands don't shake at all. The handwriting is still neat as usual. The tip of the pen punctured the medical record. Leave a small hole through the page. The third day after Chu Chi Minh was discharged from the hospital, my surgery schedule was finally restored. But not major surgeries of the Department of Surgery. It's the minor surgery room of the medical examination department. Every day's work revolves around cutting stitches, changing bandages, and treating wounds. One day, anesthesiologist Lao Ngo - who had collaborated with me many times in the operating room - happened to meet me in the hallway. He stood smoking for a long time. Half the cigarette burned out but still didn't say anything. At the end, I choked out one sentence:

“Tieu To, don't take that to heart.”

I smiled faintly.

"It's OK."

He stubbed out his cigarette. There was clear displeasure in his eyes.

“I followed that surgery from start to finish.”

“Eight hours.”

“For eight hours, she never left the operating table once.”

“That kind of person is really not a nice person.”

I interrupted softly.

“Stop talking.”

“I just feel angry for you.”

He shook his head and left. And I stood in front of the minor surgery room door, quietly looking at the duty roster. My name has been moved from operating room number one to the last room. In the past, I always wrote two words behind my name: Master knife owner. Now it has turned into: Outpatient treatment. A doctor used to be able to stand in for major surgeries that lasted eight hours. Currently, every day I only have to do the work of changing bandages and cutting stitches. I don't blame anyone. That's the rule of this industry. Once an incident occurs. Regardless of right or wrong. Those involved must temporarily give up their seats. Waiting for public opinion to calm down. No one told me. How long do we have to wait? During that time, I still went to work on time. Get off work on time. Do not compete for the opportunity to have surgery. Don't look for leaders to complain. Also don't complain to your colleagues. It's like it never happened. But there are things that cannot be hidden. Get paid at the end of the month. The amount of money actually received has decreased by a large amount. Physician performance bonuses are calculated based on the number of surgeries. But I can no longer have surgery. Which means... Performance money is zero. After deducting insurance and mandatory fees. The actual salary received is just over 3,000 yuan. Meanwhile, I still have to pay 50,000 yuan in compensation in installments. The first month has just been deducted. There is only more than 800 yuan left in the account. Mom called. Ask why this month the amount of money I sent back is less than usual often. I lied:

“The hospital has just adjusted its salary and bonus structure.”

“Next month will be fine.”

Mom believed it right away. After hanging up. I opened the food ordering app. Choose the cheapest meal. Look at the price for a few seconds. Then quietly exited. Finally, just mix one packet of instant noodles. That one month... I lived like that. One afternoon. While eating in the hospital cafeteria, I scrolled through my phone as usual. Accidentally saw a post on Chu Chi Minh's circle of friends. It's not like I actively watch. It was Ms. Trieu who took the screenshot and sent it to the faculty chat group. In the photo is a photo of the bank account balance. More than 200,000 yuan. Below is also a status line:

"Finally, I can reclaim justice for myself. Justice may come late, but it will never be absent. Thank you to the law for giving ordinary people a voice."

There are many likes below. Many people commented asking what happened. Chu Chi Minh responded very enthusiastically. The idea is roughly: He once had his surgery botched by the doctor. The arm was almost disabled. Luckily, I found a professional lawyer to help me. In the end, the hospital had to pay 200,000 yuan in compensation. Someone in the comments asked for lawyer information. He immediately left an electronic business card. It's lawyer Phuong's business card. Ms. Trieu texted in the group:

"Everyone look, this is the person we risked our lives to save."

No one in the group answered. A while later. The head nurse sent a message:

"The work group does not discuss content unrelated to work. Everyone pay attention."

Right after that.