American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

Chapter 100 Xiao Zhu's Date

After buying the gun and having dinner with Sachi, Lynn went home, took a shower, and was drying his hair.

The phone on the table vibrated, and Julian's name flashed on the screen.

I pressed the answer button, and the breathing sounded somewhat hurried on the other end of the line.

"Lin, I'm in trouble."

Lynn walked to the refrigerator, took out a small bottle of milk, and unscrewed it.

"What kind of medical malpractice occurred?"

"Or has old Hudson assigned you some impossible task again?"

"You guessed completely wrong."

Julian remained silent for a moment, probably thinking about how to phrase it.

"Someone invited me to see a movie tomorrow night."

"6

He managed to squeeze out those words.

Lynn stopped drinking her milk.

Julian Cabot is the heir to an old-money family in the medical field.

He graduated from a top medical school with straight A's at the age of 21, and was promoted to attending physician at Metropolitan Hospital at the age of 27.

He devoted all his energy to medicine.

So when it comes to dating, I'm a complete novice and simply don't have the time.

Who is it?

Lynn rested his elbow on the table, his tone a little gossipy.

"Elena."

Julian's voice was very soft, as if someone were eavesdropping.

"That lawyer with bone tuberculosis."

"Tomorrow is the day she is officially discharged from the hospital. She sent me a text message saying she wanted to celebrate and asked if I had time to go see a movie."

""

"That's a good thing!"

Lynn held up the milk bottle to the air, her expression full of mockery.

"Since it's a celebration of being discharged from the hospital, it'll be more lively with more people."

"Everyone, go! I'll call Victoria and Cassie right now, let's all buy popcorn and sit in the front row."

"By the way, what flavor of popcorn do you like? I prefer butter. Victoria likes salt, and Cassie will probably want caramel."

The sound on the other end of the phone disappeared; there wasn't even a sound of breathing.

Lynn could even picture Julian's stiff expression at that moment.

Holding my phone, my brain went completely blank as I tried to calculate the impact of "five people" on the success rate of dating.

A full half minute passed.

Julian let out a sigh of despair.

"good----"

"But I don't know what flavor Elena would like—"

"Just kidding."

Lynn smiled happily; she hadn't been this happy in a long time.

He tossed the empty bottle precisely into the trash can and then punched the air.

"Covering up for me, right? No problem, you covered for me before."

"I'll cover for you in the ER for a day, it's my old job."

"Go pick out a decent set of clothes and change out of that T-shirt with anatomical diagrams printed on it."

"Wearing a formal suit on a first date will scare the girl away."

"Thanks."

Julian on the other end of the phone breathed a sigh of relief.

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Lynn walked into the emergency room of Metropolitan Hospital.

This is his first time back here since he was promoted to acting chief resident.

The smell remained the same: disinfectant mixed with coffee, and a touch of the sour stench of vomit.

Head Nurse Patricia stood behind the nurses' station, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw Lynn.

"Oh, Dr. Lin, what a rare guest!"

"He came on behalf of Julian."

Dr. Smith, the attending physician in the emergency room, happened to be coming from the other end of the corridor.

Holding an empty coffee cup, he walked hurriedly.

"Lin, you've come at the perfect time."

Smith slammed a stack of handover forms onto the nurses' station table.

"You're in charge of the emergency room now."

"I ate two Mexican tacos from the corner store yesterday, and my stomach is protesting badly."

After saying that, he clutched his stomach, turned around, and ran towards the restroom at the end of the corridor.

Head Nurse Patricia watched his retreating figure and pursed her lips.

She picked up three folders from the table and pushed them in front of Lynn.

"I'm going to mentor three new people today."

"Two first-year residents and one fourth-year medical student."

Lynn opened the first folder.

Sofia Delgado, 25 years old, M4.

He looked up and glanced down the corridor.

The sycophantic Sophia was chasing after Smith, who had only run a few steps, holding a stack of medical records in her hands.

"Dr. Smith, I've read your paper on hip revision surgery. When do you have some time?"

Sweating profusely, Smith walked right past her and rushed into the bathroom.

Sofia immediately stopped smiling.

It only lasted for half a second.

The next resident doctor was still a few steps away when she already had that humble yet enthusiastic expression back on her face.

Social radar sensitivity is at its maximum.

Lynn turned to the second one.

Brian Keller, 27 years old, PGY-1, transferred from Tufts.

That curly-haired white man standing in front of the triage desk, sternly negotiating with the triage nurse, is him.

"According to standard operating procedures, this patient's complaint meets the criteria for Level 2 triage and must be assessed by the attending physician within ten minutes."

"You made him wait for fifteen minutes, which is a serious violation of compliance procedures."

The nurse apologized and left quickly, rolling her eyes as she passed the nurses' station.

Curly hair lowered his head and meticulously drew an X on the record board.

the last one.

Cheng Lan, an international student, 26 years old, PGY-1.

(Character illustration)

He completed his rotation at a Veterans Affairs hospital.

A girl with a low ponytail sat alone at the far end of the triage desk, staring at a tablet computer.

The stethoscope hung around his neck.

Her right hand was in the pocket of her white coat, her fingers unconsciously rubbing something, making a faint metallic scraping sound.

The surrounding noise seemed to be on a completely different wavelength from hers.

Lynn closed the folder.

Three new people.

Besides replenishing their fighting force, the illegal clinic should also look for some alternatives for its assistants.

These young people with clean backgrounds might be a better fit than older doctors with better skills.

Anyway, I can leave the technical problems to myself.

"The three of you, come and gather here."

Curly Hair was the first to come over, shaking hands with a strong grip.

Cheng Lan stood up and accidentally pulled off her earphone cord, causing her phone to play a Chinese song briefly for two seconds.

Lynn felt the song sounded familiar, but before she could figure out what it was, she pressed pause, looked around, and blushed deeply.

Curly hair interrupted the awkward silence.

"Brian Keller, transferred from Tufts."

"I've seen the shift schedule; the emergency department is usually headed by an attending physician. Your substituting for someone of a higher level is a complete departure from standard personnel procedures."

"I'm just filling in for Julian today."

Upon hearing Julian's name, Curly's expression softened somewhat.

He only recognizes the system and refuses to accept exceptions.

The sycophant followed closely behind.

"Sofia Delgado".

"Dr. Lin, it is my honor to learn from you. I have read the paper you co-authored with Dr. Julian, and it was very insightful."

Within three sentences, the speaker accurately identified the person in a superior position and quoted their work.

Textbook-level upward social interaction.

Cheng Lan came over last.

She stopped at a relatively far social distance, her gaze sweeping over Lynn's face before quickly looking away.

During her high school and college years in New York, she witnessed too many ABCs (American-born Chinese) displaying arrogance and disdain towards immigrants from mainland China.

She instinctively wanted to distance herself from the situation.

"Cheng Lan. One-year resident physician."

He spoke at a steady pace, with a slight Chinese accent at the end of his sentences.

Lynn was just about to start assigning tasks.

Head Nurse Patricia's walkie-talkie rang.

"Trauma Channel No. 3, three machines to be admitted within ten minutes."

Time, 7:09

"The first case involved a fall from a height at a construction site, resulting in an open fracture of the right lower leg with exposed tibia."

"Second incident: a fight in a bar, a shard of glass pierced the right upper arm, causing pulsating bleeding; tourniquet applied."

"The third incident occurred in the restaurant's kitchen. The right hand was caught in a mixer, resulting in multiple lacerations and possible tendon rupture."

Head Nurse Patricia glanced at Lynn.

Lynn stacked the three folders together and put them back on the nurses' station counter.

Smith was squatting in the bathroom.

He had to oversee three trauma rooms all by himself.

In his previous life, he worked at a top-tier hospital in China, where he triaged six patients by himself on the eve of the Spring Festival.

"Keller, Trauma Room One, open tibial fracture."

"Delgado, number two, stab wound to the upper arm."

"Cheng, number three, hand laceration."

His curly eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes were full of doubt.

"Dr. Lin, if I may be frank, you are merely an acting chief resident."

"According to trauma management guidelines, this level of injury requires an immediate orthopedic consultation and should be performed under the supervision of the attending physician. With three trauma clinics operating simultaneously, you simply cannot manage them all by yourself."

"If someone dies, my license will be gone along with yours."

Sofia stood to the side, her previous ingratiating smile also disappearing.

"Dr. Lin, Brian is right. Should we urge Dr. Smith? Or call another attending physician? Three trauma patients, and you're taking responsibility all by yourself—it's too risky."

Cheng Lan remained silent and walked towards Trauma Room No. 3.

"This is an emergency room."

Lynn interrupted them.

"Your job is to provide initial treatment, assessment, and stabilize vital signs."

"I will come when things get blocked."

He pursed his curly lips, his face full of resentment, and turned to walk towards Room Number One.

The sycophant sighed and strode towards Room Number Two.

Head Nurse Patricia spoke in a very low voice.

"Smith is still in the bathroom. If three machines come at the same time, how can you keep an eye on them all by yourself?"

"Head Nurse."

Lynn looked at her.

"You've seen more chaotic scenes than this in this emergency room."

Head Nurse Patricia assigned two senior nurses to guard trauma rooms number one and number two respectively.

Say less and do more to prepare for the future.

This is her way of working.

Time, 7:11

Three ambulances arrived at the same time.

Lynn stood in the middle of the corridor, the doors of the three trauma rooms open at the same time.

Trauma Room No. 1.

Curly was already wearing gloves and was examining the right leg.

The construction worker, around forty years old, fell from the scaffolding.

The tibia in the middle of his lower leg pierced the skin like a broken chopstick, the surrounding muscles were turned outwards, and blood was still seeping out.

"Open tibial fracture, grade 3A."

Curly-haired man speaks very quickly, with a mechanical, reciting quality.

"I've already called the orthopedics department and requested an expedited X-ray and intravenous antibiotics. Everything is proceeding according to the trauma life support protocol."

"Vitality signs," Lynn interrupted as she walked in.

"Blood pressure 130/85, heart rate 92, airway clear —"

"What about the distal dorsalis pedis artery pulsation?"

-

Curly hair paused for a moment.

He was busy going through procedures, calling for consultations, and completing every checkmark on the initial assessment.

The only thing overlooked was assessing the peripheral blood supply to the affected limb.

He bent down and pressed his fingers on the patient's instep.

A few seconds later, the curly-haired man's expression changed.

"The pulse is weak—almost undetectable."

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