signingbooks Chapter 1382 A Packed Classroom
Chapter 1382 A Packed Classroom
Chapter 1382 A Packed Classroom
In April, the kapok flowers in Nandu were in full bloom.
Yang Ping teaches a class every Friday morning. Sometimes it's a class for doctoral students, sometimes for master's students or undergraduates. Today's class is a professional class for orthopedic doctoral students from Nandu Medical University.
Driver Lao Zhou parked the car at the entrance of the teaching building. As soon as Yang Ping got out of the car, he saw Director Liu of the Academic Affairs Office running up to greet him.
"Professor Yang, you've finally arrived." Director Liu wiped his sweat, his expression a mix of joy and worry. "Today... there are even more people today."
Yang Ping glanced at him: "How many could there be?"
Director Liu smiled wryly: "You'll see when you go and take a look."
Yang Ping walked into the teaching building, and before he even reached the classroom door, he heard a buzzing voice. He turned the corner and stopped.
The corridor was full of people.
The line stretched from the classroom door all the way to the stairwell, a dense, dark mass.
When they saw Yang Ping, the previously noisy corridor suddenly fell silent and automatically parted to make way for him.
"Hello, Professor Yang!"
"Professor Yang is here!"
Yang Ping nodded as he walked inside, but stopped again at the classroom door.
This classroom is the largest lecture hall at Nandu Medical University, with a capacity of three hundred people. But at this moment, all three hundred seats are long gone. The aisles are full of people, the open space on both sides of the podium is full of people, and even the windowsills are occupied by people, literally sitting on the windowsills with their legs dangling out and holding books in their hands.
There was still a crowd of people craning their necks to look inside, but they wouldn't leave even though they couldn't get in.
In the crowd, he saw familiar faces: doctors from the First Affiliated Hospital of Nanjing Medical University, who had come during their break. Several men in suits were directors from several hospitals in the city; the people who usually spoke on stage were now huddled in a corner. There were also several elderly men with gray hair, retired professors from Nanjing Medical University, some of whom were over eighty years old, who had also come to listen to the lecture.
When Yang Ping walked up to the podium through the side door, the classroom suddenly fell silent.
Then, applause broke out.
It wasn't the polite, sporadic applause; it was heartfelt, thunderous applause. More than three hundred people clapped simultaneously, the sound almost lifting the roof off. Those who couldn't get in the corridor joined in the applause.
Yang Ping stood on the stage, already used to this kind of scene. It was the same every week, every week full, every week filled with applause. But each time, he would still wait a while, waiting for the applause to slowly subside.
He waited a few minutes before the applause gradually subsided.
Yang Ping began his lecture, and his teaching style was quite unique.
Without using PowerPoint or reading from a script, he simply stood on the stage and chatted like a conversation, yet every word he uttered was easy to understand.
"Remember, the classification of spinal tumors is not for memorizing, but for guiding surgery. When you see a tumor, the first questions that should pop into your mind are: Where is this tumor located? How is it related to nerves? Is it well-blooded? Can it be completely removed? The classification is just a tool to help you answer these questions."
“Look, this tumor is located in front of the vertebral body. If you approach it from the back, you'll go around in a big circle, causing more bleeding and higher risks. Why not approach it from the front? Some people are afraid that the anterior approach is too complicated and might damage major blood vessels. But have you ever thought that what you fear, the tumor also fears? If you approach it from the front, the most dangerous part of the anatomy is precisely the part closest to the tumor. If you handle the danger properly, the tumor will be exposed to you.”
"When you're cutting a tumor, how far is the tip of your scissors from the nerve? One millimeter? Two millimeters? Let me tell you, under a microscope, one millimeter is like a river. If you can't cross it, you have to find a way around it. How do you do that? Gently part it with a suction device, pad it with cotton, and burn it little by little with bipolar electrocautery. For every action, you have to think clearly: Will this incision damage the nerve? Will it cause bleeding? Will it cause irreversible damage?"
The audience listened intently; some were hunched over taking notes, some were tilting their heads back with unblinking eyes, and some were quietly wiping the corners of their eyes.
Sitting in the third row was a young woman with a ponytail, wearing a white lab coat; she was probably an intern. She was smiling the whole time, a genuine, undisguised smile. The person next to her whispered, "What's wrong?" She replied, "Nothing, I just feel so good to be able to listen to Professor Yang's lecture."
In the corner, several people in surgical gowns stood out. They were from the First Affiliated Hospital of Nanjing Medical University, having just come off the operating table, still in their gowns. One of them looked at Yang Ping and remarked, "We can't even get this many people to our department's academic conferences, but Professor Yang's lectures have brought this much crowd."
Another said, "Nonsense! Professor Yang's lectures are a matter of taking advantage of any opportunity you can. Do you think he can just invite anyone? It's because our school has a good relationship with him. Other front-line hospitals have to schedule appointments for him to give lectures. Here, we can see him in person every week."
The first person nodded and said nothing more.
Everyone listened attentively to the lecture. Different people could learn different things. Some undergraduates were still learning basic knowledge and had no knowledge about spinal tumors at all, but they were also engrossed in the lecture because they could learn how to think and how to connect basic knowledge with clinical practice.
During the break between classes, Yang Ping was surrounded by everyone.
This is a regular program every Friday, a 20-minute break between classes, which is more tiring than attending class, but he never refuses it.
"Professor Yang, I have a question for you!" A middle-aged doctor squeezed forward, holding a stack of films. "This is a patient I admitted last week, with a tumor in his upper cervical spine. Could you please take a look?"
Yang Ping took the film, walked to the window, and looked at it against the light. A circle automatically formed around him; no one dared to push or shove, all craning their necks to look.
“This location is very dangerous,” Yang Ping said, pointing to a spot on the scan. “Both vertebral arteries are surrounded. What are your plans for treatment?”
The middle-aged doctor said, "I plan to perform an embolization first, then approach it from the back..."
As Yang Ping listened, he nodded, occasionally interjecting, "Pay special attention to the course of the vertebral artery in this area." "We can dissect a little more here to leave room for tumor removal." "We must prepare for the worst before the operation, ensure sufficient blood supply, and be prepared to temporarily block blood vessels during the operation."
The people next to them were recording with their phones, afraid of missing a single word.
Another girl squeezed in, carrying a notebook filled with questions. Her face flushed, she asked one after another. Yang Ping answered them one by one, sometimes asking in return, "What do you think?" The girl was so nervous she was incoherent, but after listening, Yang Ping nodded: "Your line of thinking is correct, but there's one thing you haven't considered: the relationship between the tumor and the dura mater. How do you plan to treat that?"
The young female doctor, who had no clinical experience, paused for a moment, then suddenly realized what she meant.
Someone nearby whispered, "You're so lucky, Professor Yang is giving you individual guidance."
The girl said excitedly, "I'll write all of this down when I get back and show it to my advisor."
There was also an elderly doctor with gray hair, standing outside the crowd, not pushing forward. Yang Ping saw him and waved him over. The old doctor came over, shook Yang Ping's hand, and said, "Professor Yang, I've been retired for ten years, and I came here today specifically to listen to your lecture."
Yang Ping said, "You've worked hard."
The old doctor shook his head: "It's not hard work. I just wanted to see what kind of talent our country has produced. After seeing you, I feel relieved."
Yang Ping paused for a moment, then said, "Thank you."
The old doctor held his hand for a long time.
In the second half of the class, Yang Ping talked about the correction of scoliosis.
He showed a scan of a fifteen-year-old girl with 105 degrees of scoliosis, her whole body twisted like a pretzel. A soft gasp filled the classroom.
“I saw this case at Peking Union Medical College Hospital last month,” he said. “At that time, I asked the students, ‘What do you plan to do?’ Some said to use Ponte osteotomy, some said to use PSO osteotomy, some said the fusion segment should be longer, and some said it should be shorter.”
He looked at the audience and asked, "What do you think should be done?"
Many people in the audience raised their hands.
Yang Ping glanced around and pointed to a boy wearing glasses in the last row: "You go ahead."
The boy stood up and said, "I think we should use Yang's osteotomy to truly correct the angle."
Yang Ping asked, "Why?"
The boy said, "Because it's 105 degrees and stiff. Ponte osteotomy shortens the posterior column, which is useless for such a large angle. PSO osteotomy is a three-column cut, and the angle it can correct is also limited. Only Yang's osteotomy, the kind of dispersed deformity osteotomy you proposed, can correct both coronal and sagittal deformities at the same time, and minimize the possibility of spinal cord injury. In this case, only that method can do it."
Yang Ping nodded and asked, "What about the risks?" The boy thought for a moment and said, "Risks... a lot of bleeding and a high risk of nerve damage. Because the osteotomy area is large and the exposed area is wide, the vertebral artery and nerve roots may be damaged."
Yang Ping said, "Yes, so do you dare to do it?"
The boy laughed and said, "I don't dare now, but I definitely will in the future."
Yang Ping looked at him and suddenly laughed.
"What's your name?"
The boy said, "My name is Zhang Lei, I'm a third-year doctoral student, and I'm with Professor Jin."
Yang Ping nodded: "Zhang Lei, remember what you said today. In the future, when you encounter difficult cases, don't just look at the risks, but also the opportunities. Risks can be avoided, but once an opportunity is missed, it will never come again. Missing an opportunity may not be a big deal for us doctors, but it can affect a patient's entire life."
Zhang Lei stood there, his face flushed red, nodding frantically.
The people around him looked at him with envy in their eyes.
The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.
Yang Ping closed his lecture notes and said, "That's all for today's class. See you next week."
The people in the audience didn't move.
Yang Ping paused for a moment: "get out of class is over."
Still no one moved.
Then someone stood up and started clapping. Then a second, a third, and more and more people stood up, the applause growing louder and louder, surging towards the stage like a tide.
Yang Ping stood there, looking at the young faces below the stage, their bright eyes, and their hands clapping enthusiastically.
He suddenly felt a little dazed.
He stood there in the audience, looking at his teacher.
Now he is standing on the stage.
He bowed.
The applause grew louder.
When Yang Ping went out through the side door, he was blocked by a group of people.
"Professor Yang, can we take a photo together?"
"Professor Yang, may I add you on WeChat?"
"Professor Yang, what are you going to talk about in the next class? I want to study in advance!"
Yang Ping dealt with them one by one, a smile on his face.
Director Liu squeezed through the crowd, sweating profusely: "Professor Yang, you should hurry up and leave, or you won't be able to get out."
Yang Ping said, "It's okay, no rush."
He looked at the young people surrounding him and asked, "Are you all from Nandu Medical University?"
Everyone paused for a moment, then started chattering: "I have a master's degree!" "I have a bachelor's degree!" "I have a doctorate!" "I'm in residency training!" "I'm here for further studies!" "I'm from Shanghai!"...
Yang Ping laughed: "So many of you are here today just to audit the class?"
Everyone laughed, and someone shouted, "But sometimes you can't even get a spot in a class you audit!"
Another shouted, "I got up at six o'clock and rode my bike for an hour from the east side of the city!"
Another person shouted, "I asked the director for leave, saying that Professor Yang was giving a lecture, and the director said, 'Go quickly and don't come back!'"
Laughter erupted.
Yang Ping looked at them and suddenly said, "Do you know what I like the most?"
Everyone quieted down.
He said, "What I like most is seeing young people like you. You are willing to learn, willing to squeeze in, and willing to get up early. If you can squeeze into this class today, you can squeeze into the operating room and the front line of scientific research in the future."
He paused for a moment, then said, "I squeezed through like this back then too."
There was a moment of silence, then someone started clapping.
Director Liu finally managed to disperse the crowd, and Yang Ping walked out.
As he reached the entrance of the teaching building, he looked back.
There were still many people gathered at the entrance; some students were taking pictures, some doctors were chatting, and some elderly professors were standing on the steps, looking this way.
He saw the girl with the ponytail standing in the crowd, waving at him; the old doctor who had been retired for ten years slowly walking out; Zhang Lei was still standing in the corridor, holding a notebook as if he was taking notes.
He turned around and got into the car.
Assistant Ershun asked, "Professor Yang, shall we go straight back to the hospital?"
Yang Ping nodded.
As the car drove out of the school gate and turned onto Binjiang Road, the kapok flowers outside the window were still bright red, stretching all the way into the distance.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The voices still echoed in my ears: "Hello, Professor Yang!" "Professor Yang, I came all the way from 200 kilometers away!" "Professor Yang, could you please sign your autograph?"
And then there was the old doctor's words: "I just want to see what kind of talent our country has produced."
He opened his eyes and looked out the window.
Those young faces, those bright eyes, those hands clapping enthusiastically, flashed past me one by one.
He recalled Director Han standing in front of him, looking at the wrongly given interview form, and saying, "Since he's here, let him finish the exam."
It was because of that sentence that he was kept in the orthopedics department of Sanbo Hospital. Later, Director Han, Professor Zhang Zongshun, and Dean Xia were tolerant and caring towards him all the way, allowing him to get to where he is today without any obstacles.
Back then, whenever he performed a high-risk, complex surgery, Director Han and Professor Zhang would be present. Director Han would wash his hands, put on his clothes, and stand on the stage to rest, while Professor Zhang would sit below. They would also instruct the circulating nurse to write their names on the surgical record sheet.
Yang Ping knew that they were silently supporting him, and that they would take full responsibility should any problems arise.
It was precisely because of their silent support that Yang Ping was able to fully utilize his talents.