Chapter 2 — The White Coat Oath

The interdisciplinary consultation room is located on the third floor of the administrative area, a small room with a long table and a large screen to show X-ray and CT films. Yen walked in on time and saw Khoa already sitting there, in front of him was a stack of files neatly arranged in order, each sheet had notes in different colored pencils.

"You're here so early," Yen said, unable to hide her surprise as she pulled out a chair and sat down opposite.

"I like to prepare thoroughly before going into any meeting," Khoa replied, without raising his head, still reviewing a file. "Especially when having to work with someone with a different... style like you."

"Are you saying I'm reckless?" Yen raised her eyebrows, her voice somewhat challenging.

"I meant to say you're assertive," Khoa corrected, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers, "in a way that makes others rack their brains to keep up."

Yen laughed softly at that clever answer, the tension from the first meeting somewhat eased. "So do we have any cases to discuss today?"

Head of Emergency Department, Dr. Hoang Anh Dung, entering with several other resident doctors, opened the consultation by presenting three complicated cases from the past week, each of which involved a coordination decision between the two departments. Yen and Khoa take turns giving their perspectives for each case — Yen focuses on the speed of initial treatment, Khoa emphasizes accurate diagnosis before intervention.

The surprising thing is that, despite their different views, the two complement each other in a strangely harmonious way. When Yen proposes a quick solution, Khoa will point out specific risks that need attention; When Khoa wants to add a checking step, Yen will suggest ways to shorten the time to perform that step without affecting accuracy.

By the third case - a case of acute abdominal pain in an elderly person with a history of heart disease, easily confused between many different diagnoses - the whole meeting room debated passionately about the optimal treatment. Yen proposed a plan of close monitoring combined with rapid testing, while another resident doctor leaned toward ordering immediate exploratory surgery. The department listened to both sides, then made a compromise proposal: perform another specific cardiac enzyme test within thirty minutes to rule out cardiovascular causes before deciding on surgery.

"It's a reasonable solution," Dr. Dung said, nodding as he noted the suggestion. "Combining the speed and precision we need."

Yen looked at Khoa with eyes full of admiration. This is not some kind of half-hearted compromise, but a truly smart solution that takes advantage of the strengths of both distinct schools of thought.

"I have to admit," Dr. Dung commented after the consultation ended, "The way you two cooperated today was much more effective than I expected. Keep it up."

He packed up the documents and turned to talk to Yen privately before leaving the room. "You know, our Emergency Department has long been complained about working too hastily and lacking coordination with other departments. If this consultation model is effective, I will propose expanding it to other departments."

"I will try my best, teacher," Yen replied, feeling a bit proud that her concerted efforts were recognized.

Doctor Nghia, Khoa's close friend, was also present at the consultation, patting Khoa on the shoulder as the two packed up the documents. "You and Ms. Yen have a great chemistry today, different from the first time I heard it."

"Don't talk nonsense," Khoa glared at his friend, but the corners of his mouth were still curled up, making it difficult to hide, his hands unconsciously re-arranging the already neat pile of documents to have something to do, avoiding his best friend's probing eyes.

"I'm telling the truth," Nghia laughed, "the whole Department of Surgery was buzzing about the argument that night. Everyone was curious to see how the two of them would 'fight' each other during their first consultation. Who would have thought they would cooperate so smoothly."

Khoa did not answer, just shook his head, but in his heart thought, perhaps his colleagues' speculations were not completely wrong when describing the change in the way he viewed Yen after just a short consultation.

Leaving the meeting room, Yen and Khoa walked towards the elevator together. The atmosphere between the two was much less tense than in the first days.

"I think," Khoa said, breaking the silence, "maybe I judged you a little too hastily after that shift."

"Me too," Yen admitted, "I thought you were just a bookish, rigid doctor. But looking at the way you prepared your documents today, I realized you really care about every little detail, not just because you like to make things difficult for others."

Khoa smiled slightly, a rare smile that Yen had never seen before. "Maybe we should try to cooperate more, instead of just arguing."

In the following weeks, the two were arranged to work together more often in interdepartmental consultations, gradually building a surprising chemistry. One afternoon, while reviewing patient records preparing to be discharged from the hospital, Yen casually asked about Khoa's family.

"Is your father the medical director of this hospital?" she asked, trying to keep her voice natural. "I heard the nurses talking."

Khoa paused for a moment, his eyes darkened slightly. "That's right. What, do you think I'm supported by that too?"

"No," Yen shook her head immediately, her voice sincere. "I saw you working, I know you're really good, you don't need anyone to help you. I'm just curious."

That straightforward answer surprised Khoa, the defensiveness in his eyes gradually disappeared. "Thank you for saying that. To be honest, I have heard many similar whispers since the day I stepped into this hospital, to the point that sometimes I doubt my own abilities."

"Don't let those rumors affect you," Yen said, her voice determined. "I saw how you handled the surgery the other day. That's not an ability given to you by anyone, but an ability you trained yourself."

Khoa looked at her, something hard to name sparkled in his eyes. "Thank you, Yen. This is probably the first time someone outside the family has told me that so frankly."

"So what about you?" Khoa asked again, wanting to learn more about his new colleague. "What made you choose the Emergency Department? This is not an easy choice. I heard that the burnout rate in this department is the highest in the hospital."

Yen was silent for a moment, her fingers unconsciously twirling the pen in her hand. "My father died because of delayed emergency treatment," she said, her voice low. "He was a fisherman, seriously injured at sea, but the nearest medical station didn't have enough doctors, so he had to wait nearly two hours for an ambulance from the mainland. I was only twelve years old at that time."

Khoa was speechless, not expecting that behind Yen's determination, sometimes to the point of recklessness, was such a deep pain. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I do not know."

"It's okay," Yen shook her head, trying to smile slightly. "That's why I always believe in speed. I don't want anyone to have to wait like my father waited."

Khoa nodded, feeling more clearly than ever the reason behind each of Yen's bold decisions in the emergency room — not a thoughtless impulse, but a belief forged from the pain of loss of the past.

The conversation stopped when there was a call from the hallway, a nurse announcing a new emergency case. Both quickly stood up, each returning to their respective positions, but in their hearts, a new understanding had begun to form between the two, beyond the boundaries of the initial professional debate.

That evening, after the shift ended, Yen sat in the break room of the Emergency Department and told Minh Thu about the afternoon conversation with the Department.

"It sounds like you're starting to have feelings for Dr. Khoa," Minh Thu teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously, leaning back against the chair, waiting to hear the next story.

"No," Yen protested immediately, but her cheeks were slightly red. "I just found him different from what I initially thought. Not the type of person who relies on family background like I thought."

"Well, 'it's just different'," Minh Thu mimicked, giggling. "But I think, a meticulous and careful person like Dr. Khoa is quite suitable for you, someone who always acts before thinking."

Yen threw a small pillow at her friend, and they both laughed in the small break room, temporarily putting aside the stressful pressures of work to enjoy a rare moment of relaxation in the middle of a long shift, unaware that the upcoming regular consultations would bring even more surprises for both of them.