Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2104: Chapter 1796: Strict Teachers Produce Outstanding Disciples (Part 3)

A few surgery microscopes were arranged against the wall, each equipped with an adjustable height chair and an instrument table. On the instrument table lay a micro instrument box, containing various micro forceps, micro scissors, micro needle holders, and several boxes of 10-0, 11-0, 12-0 micro sutures. These threads are thinner than a human hair and are almost invisible to the naked eye, requiring operation under a microscope.

Yang Ping was already seated in front of one of the microscopes. He wasn’t wearing a white gown, just a light blue scrub suit. His left hand rested on the focus knob of the microscope, while his right hand held a pair of micro forceps, his posture relaxed as if doing something completely routine.

"Come over!" he said, "First, learn how to use the microscope."

Zhaxi sat down next to him and leaned his eyes closer to the eyepiece. The view was a blurry mix of gray and white. He adjusted the pupil distance, but it wasn’t clear yet. Then he adjusted the focal length, and slowly the image became clear—a simulated blood vessel, about one millimeter in diameter.

"Look with both eyes simultaneously, don’t close one eye," Yang Ping’s voice came from the side, "The essence of microsurgery is binocular coordination. Closing one eye will lose stereopsis, and you won’t be able to judge depth."

Zhaxi tried to open both eyes, striving to merge the images from both eyes into one. At first, it was very uncomfortable, with some double images in his field of view, feeling his eyeballs were in conflict. He blinked a few times, relaxing the muscles around his eyes, and gradually, the two images overlapped into a single, clear, three-dimensional picture. The simulated blood vessel appeared large in his view, with the surface texture clearly visible, like a gigantic pipe magnified countless times.

"Good!" Yang Ping said, "Now pick up the micro forceps."

Zhaxi reached for the instrument box, his fingers paused on the micro forceps. This pair of forceps was several sizes smaller than the tissue forceps he usually used; in his hand, the forceps tips opened and closed again. The tactile sensation was so light that he almost couldn’t feel the presence of the forceps, only feeling his fingertips controlling the hair-thin tips.

"Clamp that thread."

Zhaxi followed Yang Ping’s direction and looked; next to the simulated blood vessel was a black micro suture thread, thin as spider silk, lying on the blue silicone pad. He used the micro forceps to clamp, but the tip touched the thread, and the thread slipped to the side instead of being clamped. He tried again, clamped it this time, but used too much force, deforming the thread with the forceps tip.

"Gentle!" Yang Ping said, "Microsurgery relies on touch, not strength. Your fingertips should feel the moment when the forceps tip touches the thread, with just enough force to hold it without slipping away or deforming."

Zhaxi took a deep breath for the third attempt. This time, he slowed down, the forceps tip gently approached the thread, and at the moment of contact, he felt an extremely slight, almost indescribable resistance. He gently closed the forceps handle, and the thread was clamped steadily, without slipping or deforming.

"Good! Let go."

Zhaxi released the forceps, and the thread fell back onto the silicone pad.

"Do it a hundred more times."

Zhaxi didn’t look up; he knew Yang Ping wasn’t joking. He picked up the micro forceps and repeated the motion: clamp, release, clamp, release. Each time, he tried to make his fingertips more sensitive, the touch of the forceps tip clearer. After fifty times, his hand started to feel a bit sore, but he didn’t stop. After a hundred times, he was able to accurately pick up the thread within a second, with just the right amount of force, so the thread neither deformed nor slipped.

"Tomorrow we’ll practice vascular anastomosis." Yang Ping stood up, pushing the chair back to its original position, "That’s enough for today."

Zhaxi looked up and realized two hours had already passed. His eyes were somewhat sore, his fingers a bit stiff, but he felt a strange sense of fulfillment inside. He knew that in these two hours, he wasn’t just learning a technique, but an attitude, a pursuit of precision, and an almost obsessive focus on detail.

"I want to practice a bit longer." Zhaxi thought he had nothing going on after work, and felt two hours was far from enough.

Yang Ping glanced at the time, "Then practice with the laparoscope. These operations I can teach you, but I won’t be following you every day; you have to train on your own, but I’ll come and check your training progress from time to time."

Laparoscopic training is a different realm. freewebnøvel.com

The laparoscopic simulator consists of a training box, a camera, a monitor, and a set of laparoscopic instruments. The top of the training box has several trocars, through which instruments are inserted into the box, and the camera projects the interior scene onto the monitor. The operator watches the monitor, operating the instruments outside the box, controlling their movements inside through the trocars as pivot points.

When Zhaxi first stood in front of the laparoscopic training station, he felt like he was playing a very awkward game.

On the monitor, he saw his hand, no, not his hand, but the tip of the instrument moving inside the box. However, there was an inverted relationship between the direction seen by his eyes and the actual movement of his hand through this pivot point. If he wanted the instrument to move left, his hand had to push right; if he wanted the instrument to move up, his hand had to press down. This separation between vision and motion left his brain momentarily unable to adapt.

He tried using the laparoscopic forceps to pick up a bean inside the box and place it into another dish. The bean looked large on the monitor, but he couldn’t get a grip on it, the forceps either slid past, flicked the bean away, or dropped it after gripping. He struggled for ten minutes before successfully transferring one bean.