The day after Suzuki Shinya’s surgery.
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine.
Yamaguchi Kenta, a veteran physical therapist with more than twenty years in the field, was seated at his desk, organizing the evaluation reports from that morning.
After so many years in practice, he had long since grown used to seeing every sort of miserable postoperative orthopedic patient.
“Yamaguchi-senpai, this is a new request from First Surgery.”
A resident who had just joined the medical office walked over and placed a consultation request form on his desk.
Yamaguchi Kenta picked it up and glanced at it.
[Patient: Suzuki Shinya]
[Diagnosis: Postoperative left distal radius C3-type comminuted fracture]
[Rehabilitation requirements: First postoperative day. Early intervention. Evaluate the affected limb and instruct active movement of the fingers, elbow, and shoulder joints.]
[Primary surgeon: Imagawa Ori]
Another one of Dr. Imagawa’s patients.
In Yamaguchi Kenta’s mind, the face of that capable, beautiful female doctor, who always looked as though strangers should keep their distance, immediately surfaced.
He had a deep impression of Imagawa Ori.
Not only because she was the youngest specialist in the medical office, but also because of her surgical style—precise, fast, and minimally traumatic.
Patients operated on by her generally recovered faster after surgery than those of other doctors by a clear margin.
But a C3-type comminuted fracture was still a C3 type, after all.
On the first day after surgery, the patient’s wrist would usually be swollen like a steamed bun, the skin shiny, bruised and purplish-blue, the fingers stiff as carrots. Forget movement—even a light touch would trigger intense pain.
So today’s intervention was basically just going through the motions.
The main task was to remind the patient to elevate the affected limb, then symbolically have the patient try to move his fingers a little to confirm the nerves had not been severed. That would count as mission accomplished.
As for actually getting the fingers moving, that would be something for at least a week, or even two weeks, later.
He picked up the medical chart, pushed a portable evaluation device, and walked at an unhurried pace toward the general ward on the sixth floor.
“Suzuki Shinya, Room 613, Bed 3.”
Yamaguchi Kenta checked the room number, then pushed the door open and entered the ward.
On the bed by the window, a middle-aged man was half-reclining. His wife and daughter sat beside him, speaking softly.
Did this look like someone who had just undergone major surgery?
Yamaguchi Kenta’s gaze fell on the patient’s left arm.
Then he froze.
That hand was securely fixed in a plaster splint and suspended in front of his chest with a triangular sling. The exposed fingers were not severely swollen or bruised as he had expected.
There was only some mild edema, and the color could even be described as somewhat rosy?
Had he entered the wrong ward?
Yamaguchi subconsciously took a step back, exited the ward, and looked up at the room number.
It was indeed 613.
He lowered his head again and looked at the medical chart in his hand.
Could the diagnosis have been wrong?
Or had the operative record been written incorrectly, and this was actually just the simplest kind of bone crack treated with a cast?
Yamaguchi Kenta frowned and walked back into the ward.
“Excuse me, are you Suzuki Shinya-san?”
“Ah, yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Yamaguchi from Rehabilitation. According to Dr. Imagawa’s orders, I’m here to perform your first postoperative evaluation.”
As Yamaguchi Kenta spoke, he carefully checked the name on the cover of the chart against the information on the bedside card.
Name, age, hospitalization number…
Every piece of information matched perfectly.
Was this really a patient on the first day after surgery for a C3-type comminuted fracture?
But Yamaguchi Kenta was not a resident fresh out of school. He quickly composed himself and temporarily suppressed the shock in his heart.
“Suzuki-san, I need to examine the condition of your fingers now.”
“It may be a little uncomfortable. Please try to relax.”
He carefully supported Suzuki Shinya’s hand and gently touched each of his fingers.
Normal temperature, full fingertip pulp, rapid return of blood color after pressure.
Perfect peripheral circulation.
Yamaguchi Kenta asked routinely, “How does it feel? Is the pain severe?”
“It’s all right. It just feels a little swollen, not very painful,” Suzuki Shinya answered honestly.
Huh?
It only felt a little swollen, not very painful?
A C3-type comminuted fracture, on the first day after surgery, and he could actually say something like that?
“Then… Suzuki-san, can you try, very, very slightly, to move your fingers?”
Even as Yamaguchi said the words himself, he felt they were somewhat absurd.
When facing patients with similar cases in the past, as long as they showed an intention to move their fingers, that was already considered acceptable.
“All right, I’ll try.”
Suzuki Shinya himself was actually very surprised.
Dr. Kiryu had told him the surgery had been very successful, but he had still been half-doubtful.
But after the anesthesia had fully worn off, he discovered that his wrist truly did not hurt as much as he had imagined. It even felt a bit more relaxed than before the surgery.
He focused his mind and tried to drive his fingers to move.
Then, under Yamaguchi’s increasingly widening eyes, the five fingers of Suzuki Shinya’s hand actually completed a slow but perfectly accurate flexion and extension.
From making a fist to fully spreading open!
“This…”
Yamaguchi was completely speechless.
Among the patients he had been responsible for, the only ones who could do this much on the first day after surgery were those young people with minor wrist fractures who could bounce around after a few days in a cast!
And the person before him was a C3-type comminuted fracture patient whose radial articular surface had been smashed to pieces!
What did this mean?
It meant the patient had experienced almost no severe tissue trauma or postoperative edema!
It meant the patient’s rehabilitation period would be shortened by at least half compared to the usual situation, and the risks of joint stiffness, pain, and functional impairment would be minimized!
Yamaguchi Kenta opened the medical chart in his hand again.
[Primary surgeon: Imagawa Ori]
Indeed, her patients generally did very well after surgery, and their rehabilitation progress was also very fast.
But… it had never reached such an exaggerated degree before.
Suzuki Shinya’s surgery was simply an ideal case that would only appear in textbooks.
Could it be… that Dr. Imagawa had made another breakthrough in her technique?
“As expected of the youngest specialist in the medical office.”
Yamaguchi Kenta put down the chart and could not help murmuring with emotion.
…
Afternoon.
In the radiology reading room.
Professor Sato, an elderly man nearing sixty with graying hair but hale and vigorous in spirit, was wearing reading glasses as he reviewed all the X-ray reports taken that morning.
As the stabilizing pillar of the radiology department, he was known for being rigorous and exacting.
He picked up a new X-ray film and placed it on the viewing light.
The light came on.
What appeared on the film was an anteroposterior and lateral view of a wrist joint that could be called perfect.
The bony contours were clear, the joint space even, the implanted T-shaped plate positioned exactly where it should be, and the length and direction of every screw were beyond reproach.
“Mm, this one was taken well.”
Professor Sato nodded with satisfaction.
Then he picked up the requisition form and preliminary report beside it.
[Patient: Suzuki Shinya.]
[Preoperative diagnosis: Left distal radius C3-type comminuted fracture.]
The expression on Professor Sato’s face instantly vanished.
He took off his reading glasses, put them back on, leaned closer, and looked over the requisition form and preliminary report again.
C3-type comminuted fracture?
He once again turned his gaze toward the X-ray film on the viewing light.
This perfect anatomical structure, this smooth articular surface, this seamless bone alignment…
A surge of anger shot straight to his head.
“Takahashi!”
He roared toward the corner of the reading room.
A young radiologist immediately scrambled over in a panic. “Professor, did you need me?”
“Did you write this report?” Professor Sato tapped the requisition form heavily with his finger.
The young Dr. Takahashi answered tremblingly, “Y-yes.”
“Are you a pig?!” Professor Sato’s voice suddenly rose.
“Look at this film, then look at this diagnosis!”
“Is this what the postoperative film of a C3-type comminuted fracture looks like?”
“Did you mix up the patient’s films?”
“This is a medical accident, do you understand?”
Takahashi was scolded until his face turned bright red and cold sweat poured down his back.
He argued in grievance, “Professor, I… I checked it three times. The patient’s ID and name both match. There’s no mistake…”