For the sake of the low six-figure gift money Councilor Ogawara had given her, Imagawa Ori decided not to expose Mizutani Mitsumasa.
In any case, as long as the money she was supposed to receive hadn’t been reduced, that was enough.
As for Kiryu Kazusuke, who had been outright ignored, he stood expressionlessly at the very back of the crowd, both hands in the pockets of his white coat.
Credit-snatching at this level was simply routine.
Besides, everyone knew that anything coming out of Associate Professor Mizutani’s mouth had to be taken with a discount.
“Of course, honor belongs to the past. Responsibility lies in the present.”
Mizutani Mitsumasa tapped the thick black marker in his hand heavily against the whiteboard twice, moving on to the next item on the agenda.
“Regarding the emergency duty roster for the year-end and New Year period.”
“Because it’s the holidays, everyone wants to rest. That’s only human nature.”
“But illness doesn’t take holidays, and traffic accidents don’t check the calendar.”
“So we must also have people holding the line.”
“In principle, first-line emergency handling will be the responsibility of the residents on duty.”
“I, several specialists, and senior fellows like Minamura-kun will be on second-line standby.”
“If it’s a mild case the residents can handle, don’t casually call and disturb your senior physicians’ rest. This is also training for your clinical abilities.”
“Of course, if it’s a truly severe case you can’t handle, or if it involves emergency surgery, then you must report it.”
“The specific call procedure will be posted in the duty room by the head nurse later.”
“Understood?”
“Yes!”
Everyone answered in unison.
For senior doctors, being on standby meant waiting at home.
For residents, being on standby meant waiting on the emergency room floor.
That was hierarchy.
After that, Mizutani Mitsumasa arranged the day’s work, and seeing that things were more or less settled, he said,
“One last thing.”
“Tonight’s year-end party will be held at Matsunoya, arranged by Councilor Ogawara.”
“This is the councilor’s special thanks to our First Surgery Department.”
“Except for those on duty, everyone must attend. No absences.”
“Dress properly. Don’t embarrass the department.”
He emphasized that last point, then waved his hand and announced the meeting adjourned.
The crowd in the medical office dispersed.
“Rounds.”
Without wasting words, Imagawa Ori was the first to head out of the medical office.
She was pressed for time; she still had to come back and write her paper.
Following behind her were fellow Takigawa Takuhei, along with Tanaka Kenji and Kiryu Kazusuke.
Compared to a professor’s rounds, this lineup was rather shabby, but in an ordinary ward, it still carried enough deterrent force.
The group arrived at the inpatient department.
With only the last few days left before the New Year, everyone had become noticeably more restless.
The nurses pushed dressing carts, moving much faster than usual. Most likely, they were all thinking of finishing work early so they could clock out on time and have a good New Year.
Imagawa Ori stopped at the door of Room 603.
It was a three-person room.
On the bed closest to the door lay an old woman in her sixties, who had undergone a total hip replacement last week.
Imagawa Ori walked to the bedside. Without even picking up the chart folder, she directly lifted a corner of the blanket and glanced at the amount of blood in the drainage bag.
“How much drainage yesterday?”
She asked without turning her head.
“Yesterday’s twenty-four-hour drainage volume was 120 milliliters, light red in color.”
Tanaka Kenji hurriedly answered. Before coming, he had deliberately memorized the data just to perform a little in front of his senior.
“Temperature?”
“37.5 degrees. A slight low-grade fever.”
“Antibiotics?”
“Cefazolin sodium, twice a day, intravenous infusion.”
Although a layer of sweat had appeared on Tanaka Kenji’s forehead, he did not stumble.
This level of memorization was merely basic skill.
If he couldn’t even answer this, he would be scolded in public until he wanted to stick his head into a trash can.
Kiryu Kazusuke stood to the side, watching his expression of relief.
This kid had probably stayed up all night yesterday, memorizing the data for the handful of patients under his care until he knew it by heart.
“Mm.”
Imagawa Ori merely gave a nasal response. That counted as passing.
She reached out and pressed the old woman’s thigh, checking for signs of deep vein thrombosis.
“The tube can come out. Arrange a follow-up X-ray tomorrow. If there’s no problem, she can be transferred to the rehabilitation department.”
“Yes!”
Tanaka Kenji answered loudly, unable to keep a smile from appearing on his face.
Not getting scolded was victory.
Next were the two patients Kiryu Kazusuke was responsible for.
One was postoperative after a clavicle fracture, the other had a meniscus injury.
“How are they?”
Imagawa Ori walked to the next bed and turned to look at Kiryu Kazusuke.
“Clavicle fracture patient, postoperative day three.”
“The incision is dry, with no redness or swelling. Temperature was normal last night. The fingers of the affected limb move freely, and sensation is normal.”
“The meniscus injury patient underwent arthroscopic debridement yesterday.”
“Today there is mild swelling in the knee joint. The floating patella test is negative. Quadriceps isometric contraction training has already begun.”
Kiryu Kazusuke’s report was comparatively concise and clear.
His speaking pace was steady, without the hurriedness Tanaka Kenji had shown because of nerves.
This was a kind of confidence, an absolute grasp of the patient’s condition.
Imagawa Ori glanced at him and said nothing, merely nodding.
The group continued moving.
Imagawa Ori checked several more postoperative patients, examining wounds, asking about drainage, and adjusting medical orders.
Room 608.
When they reached the third bed by the window, the patient lying there had a bimalleolar fracture.
In other words, it was the surgery where Takigawa Takuhei had been the primary surgeon and Kiryu Kazusuke the first assistant.
Imagawa Ori walked to the foot of the bed, reached into the X-ray film bag hanging at the head of the bed, and pulled out the postoperative follow-up film.
She raised the film and looked at it against the light coming through the window.
On the film, the distal fibula was firmly fixed by a plate. The lines were smooth, and the articular surface was also quite level.
“Hm?”
Imagawa Ori’s brows lifted slightly.
This quality of reduction was rather interesting.
The fracture line was well aligned, the plate fit very closely, and the length and angle of the screws were excellent.
Although it could not be called a stunningly perfect reduction, in the First Surgery Department, even if an ordinary specialist had done it, this would have been about the level expected.
Imagawa Ori turned her head and glanced at Takigawa Takuhei, who stood beside her.
Had the sun risen in the west?
With this guy’s technical level, he could perform this surgery to this degree?
Takigawa Takuhei, sensing the attention from his superior, naturally also knew that this film had come out beautifully.
This was the most presentable surgery he had done in the past several years.
But first, he somewhat guiltily glanced at Kiryu behind him. Seeing that the other man had no reaction at all, he finally gathered his courage and raised his chin a few degrees.
“Nicely done.”
Imagawa Ori nodded and said lightly.
“Thank you for the praise, Dr. Imagawa!”
Hearing praise he had not received in a long time, the sorrowful look that had accumulated on Takigawa Takuhei’s face over the years was swept away.
“I also did a lot of preoperative preparation for this surgery and looked up quite a bit of material.”
“To ensure restoration of the fibular length, I specifically…”
“It’s like a bookshelf that’s crooked on both sides…”
He began explaining the principle Kiryu had told him at the operating table, his voice trembling slightly from excitement.
Imagawa Ori did not interrupt him.
But her gaze passed over Takigawa Takuhei’s shoulder and fell on Kiryu Kazusuke.