Chapter 4

"Dr. Lester, your reason for not performing this surgery is?"

The speaker was Pearson, deputy director of Health and Human Services.

The next morning, the expert committee meeting.

In attendance besides the hospital's department heads were two representatives sent by Health and Human Services.

"I cannot guarantee absolute composure during the operation."

"What do you mean you can't guarantee it?"

Pearson flipped through the materials in front of him.

"Dr. Lester, I've reviewed your record. In the past three years, you've performed forty-seven high-difficulty surgeries with a one hundred percent success rate. How can you not be confident?"

"This one, I'm not."

"Why?"

I didn't answer immediately.

The other representative interjected. "Dr. Lester, we understand every doctor has their own judgment. But this case is rather special. The patient's surgical window is very short. If you don't take it, the patient's survival rate is essentially zero."

"My personal refusal doesn't mean there are no other options. You can contact other teams."

Pearson cleared his throat. "We've contacted them all. Only you have both the capability and the time."

"I can't do it."

"Can't do it and don't want to do it are two different things, Dr. Lester."

The door was pushed open. Chris walked in, followed by Wright and an elderly man with a cane.

The old man appeared to be in his seventies, his face waxy yellow but his back ramrod straight.

"Director Anderson, why did you come?"

Neville stood up. Anderson was his former supervisor.

"It's about Carter. I can't not be involved."

Anderson slowly walked to the table and sat down, glancing at me.

"Dr. Lester," Anderson coughed lightly.

"I worked at this hospital for forty years. Mr. Carter is my old partner, my old friend. His illness can't be delayed."

"Director Anderson, I understand your feelings. But—"

"Let me finish first."

He raised his hand, stopping me.

"I know you're a top expert from New York. Your time is valuable, your skills remarkable. But in this profession, the most important thing isn't just skill."

He stared at me, his eyes cloudy yet sharp.

"The most important thing is conscience."

Chris stood behind her father, her expression still cold and haughty.

Wright sat nearby, his expression pained and earnest.

"I'm refusing the surgery precisely because of my conscience."

"How so?"

"Brainstem surgery has extremely strict requirements for the chief surgeon's psychological state. Any emotional fluctuation could lead to intraoperative errors. I've assessed my own condition. I cannot remain absolutely calm."

"Are you saying you have personal feelings toward my father?"

Wright frowned, his tone somewhat surprised.

"Dr. Lester, to my knowledge, we should have no prior connection."

I looked at him. He looked at me, his gaze frank and without guilt.

No connection. He didn't recognize me, yet I'd remembered him for twenty years.

"Whether there's a connection doesn't matter."

I took a light sip of tea.

"What matters is that once I'm in the operating room, I cannot ensure one hundred percent focus. On that point alone, I shouldn't take this case."

Pearson impatiently tapped the table.

"Dr. Lester, let's speak plainly. There is no regulation that allows a doctor to refuse surgery without reason. If you can't find a clear recusal basis, this is dereliction of duty."

"Director Pearson, the Medical Practitioners Law..."

"Don't quote regulations at me."

He slammed his pen on the table.

"Let me lay out the situation. Tomorrow, every major medical media outlet will follow this story. The top expert flies over a thousand miles to perform surgery, looks at the medical record, and walks away. Do you think that's appropriate?"

I didn't speak. Chris stepped forward.

"Dr. Lester, maybe my words yesterday were too harsh. I apologize. But think about it—if this gets out, that you refused to save a life, how will you live with yourself going forward?"

Wright also stood up and bowed to me.

"Dr. Lester, if my father and I have done anything to make you uncomfortable, I apologize. I also understand your concerns. How about this—we'll double the surgical fee. For your peace of mind, I personally..."

"Dr. Wright," I interrupted him, "can you answer one question for me?"

He froze, then nodded.

"Please, go ahead."

"Your father practiced medicine for forty years. How many surgeries did he perform?"

"Over a thousand. He was the founder of our state's neurosurgery department."

Wright straightened his chest as he said this.

"Of those thousand-plus surgeries, were there many failures?"

The conference room atmosphere froze.

Wright's gaze didn't waver, but he hesitated for a moment.

"All surgeries carry risk. None can be one hundred percent successful."

"What happened to the families of the patients who didn't make it?"

"Dr. Lester, that has nothing to do with the current matter."

"Is that so."

I stood up and picked up my bag.

"Then my refusal also has nothing to do with the current matter. Everyone, excuse me."

Behind me came Chris's shrill voice.

"Go ahead and leave! Once you leave, don't think about coming back. I'll let the entire industry know that New York's Dr. Lester is someone who refuses to save lives!"

I pushed open the door. Carlos still couldn't help leaning close to my ear.

"Dr. Lester, how about... you tell me the truth. Why won't you do this surgery?"

I turned to look at her. Three years ago, fresh out of graduate school, she'd sent out over a hundred resumes with no offers. I was the one who recruited her to the team.

She trusted me and understood me.

But this matter—I'd never told her.

"Carlos."

"Yes."

"Twenty years ago, this hospital's neurosurgery department had a man-made medical accident. The patient was named Charlotte."

Her expression slowly changed.

"Charlotte... was she your...?"

"My mother."

She froze, not knowing what to say.

"The chief surgeon was Carter—the man now lying in a hospital bed waiting for me to save him."

Carlos stood there, unable to speak for a long time.

"Prepare a formal recusal application for me. Tomorrow at the ethics committee meeting, I'll explain it myself."

When I reached the main entrance, Carlos called out softly behind me.

"Dr. Lester, would your hands... really shake?"

I clenched my fist and sighed.

"As long as that face appears in front of me, I can't control it."