Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1381 - 667

After tidying up the dormitory, Fang Cheng set off, ready to see what good food might be available at the canteen.

He decided to make a detour to Building 3’s physical therapy department, thinking that if Master Sun was still busy, he could lend a hand.

He pushed open the ajar door, but the office was empty.

On the table by the window, an aluminum electric kettle was "bubbling" away, the steam from its spout leaving a patch of water stain on the white wall.

The blue curtain around the therapy bed was half open, and Lin Yue, who said he would come back to rest for a while, was nowhere to be seen.

Fang Cheng glanced up at the wall clock and guessed that the two had probably gone to the canteen for a meal.

So he unplugged the kettle, turned around, closed the door, and went downstairs alone.

The midday sun was somewhat harsh, and the asphalt road was slightly softened by the heat.

The camphor trees on either side of the road had dense canopies like umbrellas, and cicadas chirped incessantly among the branches, rising and falling.

On the road, groups of workers in uniforms could be seen walking in threes and twos towards the canteen.

A stainless steel meal delivery cart pushed past the intersection, spreading the aroma of braised pork in the breeze.

Following the route Lin Yue had previously pointed out, Fang Cheng strolled along the tree-lined path.

As he passed in front of Building 2, his steps suddenly halted.

This building was precisely the critical injury trauma ward of the West Mountain Sanatorium.

At the moment, the glass doors of the first-floor hall were open, and the sound of an uproar came from inside.

Someone was arguing loudly, accompanied by the clattering of tools and hurried footsteps, all mixed together.

Fang Cheng’s hearing was far superior to most, and he instantly discerned two familiar voices among the noisy crowd.

It was Master Sun and Lin Yue.

Judging by the commotion, the two were busy inside, likely urgently attending to a seriously injured person.

Fang Cheng thought for a moment, then immediately changed direction and walked quickly into the hall.

As soon as he stepped into the hall, the pungent smell of disinfectant and the strong scent of blood rushed towards him.

The scene before him made him pause slightly.

In the middle of the emergency treatment area’s corridor, there lay a medical mobile stretcher bed.

On the stretcher lay a sturdy man, his entire body securely fixed to an orange spinal board.

His neck was enclosed in a hard protective collar, broad securing straps were wound around his chest, abdomen, and waist, with only his limbs barely able to move.

The man’s forehead was drenched in cold sweat, his face as pale as paper, his lips colorless, and his whole body tense, clearly enduring excruciating pain.

Two men wearing camouflage uniforms stood vigil on either side of the stretcher.

They were covered in dust and bloodstains, tactical belts around their waists prominently carrying daggers and firearms.

One sturdy man with a fresh knife scar on his face was clutching a doctor’s white coat collar, shouting in a rough voice:

"I don’t care what difficulty you have! Zhao Gang’s blood keeps flowing, if we delay any longer, he’ll be gone! Are you going to save him or not?"

"Calm down first!"

The middle-aged doctor looked utterly helpless, he held onto the other’s wrist, patiently explaining:

"It’s not that we don’t want to save him, it’s that we can’t save him right now. The CT results just came out; his lumbar vertebra L1 has a burst fracture, a piece of bone has displaced backwards into the vertebral canal, compressing the spinal cord."

"Look at his legs; they’re completely numb below the thighs, even poking them doesn’t provoke a twitch, indicating severe spinal cord compression!"

The doctor took a deep breath, his voice urgent:

"Additionally, he has intra-abdominal bleeding from a ruptured spleen, necessitating immediate exploratory laparotomy to stop the bleeding.

"But the issue is, his spine is currently extremely unstable. To perform surgery, we must undo his board and strap fixation, turn him to move him onto the operating table, and during surgery, inevitable positional movement will occur."

"That displaced bone fragment only needs to move a few millimeters more, and it might further slice into the spinal cord. Then we’re talking about permanent paralysis, not just temporary!"

After he finished speaking, the corridor fell silent for a moment.

"Then what should we do?"

The other dirt-faced companion stomped his foot anxiously:

"We risked our lives to get him out of the West Mountain Forbidden Area, couldn’t even dare to breathe much along the way. Now you tell me surgery is impossible, are we supposed to just watch him bleed out and die?"

The attending doctor raised a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his tone helpless:

"At the incident scene, you used a spinal board stretcher to stabilize the injured and transported him here, which was perfectly handled, that’s why it stayed stable en route."

"But opening him up to stop the bleeding is a delicate task; even a few millimeters of error during positioning can cost him his life."

"Our sanatorium mainly handles routine rehabilitation, with limited surgical facilities. For the sake of the wounded, it’s best to quickly request a helicopter transfer to a larger hospital, first performing spinal traction and realignment followed by surgery, ensuring the safety of the injured."

Beside the stretcher, a young nurse was hastily replacing the gauze dressing on Zhao Gang’s abdomen wound, which had already been soaked with blood.

Blood trickled down along the edge of the gauze, pooling into a small dark red puddle on the floor.

The knife-scarred man’s hand trembled, slowly releasing the doctor’s collar, his eyes reddened.

The other companion clenched his fists, lowered his head, breathing heavily.

They certainly knew they were pushing for the impossible, but their comrade was gravely injured.

From here to the city hospital, even if by helicopter, coordination and flying back and forth would take at least half an hour.

Zhao Gang was losing blood rapidly, every second counted, his life was literally ticking away by the second.

The reason they rushed to the sanatorium nearby was to seize this critical time difference for rescue.