My mother died unexpectedly during surgery. During my darkest time, my boyfriend Wright stayed by my side. Later, I discovered that my mother's surgery was performed by Wright's childhood friend Chris. Chris was just an intern with no surgical qualifications. Yet Wright helped Chris hide this from me. I broke up with him and studied hard, becoming the nation's finest neurosurgeon. Twenty years later, I received a surgical case. When I opened the patient file, I discovered the patient was Wright's father. I said to my assistant: "I'm not doing this surgery!" "Dr. Lester, what do you mean?" My assistant Carlos was still frozen in place while I had already started packing up. "Change my flight for me." "But... there's not a second person in the country who can perform brainstem tumor surgery. If you leave, the patient will..." "I know, but I can't take this case." I pulled open the door and walked out of the conference room. Neville from Central Hospital's neurosurgery department hurried over, forcing a smile onto his face. "Dr. Lester, I'm Neville from neurosurgery." He extended his hand. I didn't shake it. He awkwardly withdrew it, rubbing his hands together. "We've been preparing for this surgery for three months. It wasn't easy getting you here from New York, and the patient's family..." "Neville," I cut him off directly, "I'll submit my recusal in writing." He froze for a moment, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Dr. Lester, you may not understand the situation. This patient's son is our associate director Wright, and his daughter-in-law is the former director Anderson's daughter. If you just walk away like this, I won't be able to explain it." "That's your problem." I walked around him and continued toward the exit. Behind me, Neville took two steps forward, his tone becoming urgent. "Dr. Lester, at least give me a reason so I can respond to the family. Is there a problem with the surgical plan? Are you dissatisfied with our surgical conditions? Equipment, team, post-operative care—name your requirements and we'll fully cooperate!" "I'm not dissatisfied with anything. The surgery itself is possible, but someone else needs to do it." "Is it a cost issue then? The family said cost isn't a problem. Name your price!" "It's not about the money." Before he could continue, I cut him off. "Neville, my decision won't change." Just before the elevator doors closed, Neville finally snapped out of it and pulled out his phone to make a call. Carlos followed me downstairs, jogging all the way to the parking lot. "Dr. Lester, what's going on?" He blocked the car door, his forehead covered in sweat. "This isn't like you. What surgery haven't you taken on? You've encountered far more dangerous situations before. Today, just one medical record and..." "Carlos." I looked at him. He stopped talking. "You've been with me for four years. Have you ever seen my hands shake during surgery?" "No." "What if I told you that for this surgery, I'm certain my hands would shake from nerves?" Carlos frowned, hesitating to speak. "Neurosurgery can't tolerate half a millimeter of error." Twenty years. I spent twenty years making my hands absolutely steady. Even after twelve hours of continuous surgery, my margin of error never exceeds three millimeters. My colleagues all think I'm a precision instrument, unnaturally calm in any situation. But today, when I saw that name and that face, my heart still couldn't remain calm. Twenty years ago, because of a half-centimeter error, my mother was left there forever. My phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. "Hello, Dr. Lester. I'm the patient's family member. I heard you refused the surgery. Could we meet in person?" I didn't know who sent this message, but I knew Wright must be among the family members. I didn't reply. Soon, a second text came in: [For a doctor, the worst thing isn't surgical failure—it's refusing to save a life.]
"Dr. Lester, please wait! The former director's daughter insists on meeting you in person no matter what!" Neville was now blocking my car directly, looking like he'd fight to the death to stop me. "Chris?" "You know her?" Of course I did. Wright's wife, Director Anderson's only daughter. Twenty years ago she was still a student, throwing her weight around the hospital because of her father's position. "No, I've just heard the name." Neville sighed. "This patient's son Wright is Chris's husband. He's also our state's neurosurgery... well, associate chief physician." He chose his words carefully, speaking to me with great caution. "Dr. Lester, I know you must have your reasons. But if this blows up, it won't be good for either of us. How about you don't leave yet, and let the family come meet you first?" "I don't need to talk anymore." "Dr. Lester!" Neville was getting desperate now, leaning right up to my car window. "Dr. Lester, please listen. Chris and Director Wright's family has excellent background and resources. Whatever concerns or conditions you have, you can state them. I'm sure they'll do their best to accommodate you. But if I let you leave without a word today, whether it's you or me, we'll both have considerable trouble." "Just consider it helping me out. Even if you just meet with the Anderson family and Director Wright once!" "Neville, I won't take the case. Just report it up the chain. The hospital will coordinate another expert. Wouldn't that be faster?" He gave a bitter smile. "You're the top-ranked expert. If you refuse, the people after you won't dare take it either." I was about to reassure him when my phone rang. "Hello, is this Lester?" An unfamiliar female voice, but I didn't need an introduction to know who it was. "I'm the patient's daughter-in-law, Chris. I heard you refused to perform surgery on my father-in-law. I'd like to speak with you in person. Are you available tomorrow morning?" I struggled to suppress my emotions. When I didn't speak, she continued. "Whatever you're thinking, you looked at the file and left without any explanation. That doesn't exactly follow protocol. Let's meet?" "I'll submit written documentation in a timely manner." "Isn't meeting faster than you submitting documentation? What is it you don't dare discuss in person?" Chris's tone was starting to carry anger. She thought I was just putting on airs. "Fine. I'll come to the hospital again tomorrow." My tone returned to calm. Perhaps it was time to settle certain things. "Good. My husband Director Wright and I will both come tomorrow." "No problem." Neville finally breathed a sigh of relief when I agreed. "Dr. Lester, see you tomorrow then!" He bowed slightly, then turned and left. I sat back down and glanced at Carlos. "Cancel the flight. I'm not leaving."
Early the next morning, I arrived at the conference room to wait. Before long, a woman in a coat strode in purposefully. A man followed behind her, still with that composed demeanor. Even after twenty years, I could recognize him at a glance. I'd imagined countless scenarios of seeing him again, yet I still felt the urge to rush forward and settle things with him. "You're Dr. Lester?" The woman scanned the room, her gaze finally settling on me. Neville quickly stood up. "Ms. Chris, this is Dr. Lester. Dr. Lester, this is..." "You're Dr. Lester?" Chris interrupted him, walking straight up to me. She didn't recognize me. The girl who cried herself unconscious outside the morgue twenty years ago bore little resemblance to the doctor who had published six authoritative neurosurgery papers. "Dr. Lester, what's the meaning of this? You just decide not to do it? We confirmed the schedule with your team three days ago. The equipment is calibrated, the care plan is ready, and now you're backing out?" "Ms. Chris, I already told Neville I'd submit a report." "Submit what report?" She laughed. "You can perform far more difficult surgeries flawlessly, but this one scares you?" Wright saw the atmosphere turning sour and immediately tried to smooth things over. "Dr. Lester, I'm the patient's son, Wright. I understand you may have your own considerations, but my father's condition is truly urgent. If it's about the cost..." "It's not about the cost." "Then what is it?" Chris slammed her bag on the table. Neville quickly stepped forward. "Ms. Chris, calm down. Dr. Lester may really be..." "She may really be what? A top neurosurgeon turns and walks away from a patient waiting to be saved?" She turned to stare at me. "Let me tell you something, Lester. My father may be retired, but he's still an advisory committee member for Health and Human Services. One phone call and I can make you..." "Chris." Wright grabbed her arm and lowered his voice. "Calm down." Then he looked at me with an apologetic smile. I knew that smile well. Twenty years ago at the morgue entrance, he'd comforted me with the same expression: "Lester, you have to be strong." Then he turned around and got engaged to Chris, while my appeal materials were sent back rejected. "Dr. Lester, I don't know your real reason for refusing. But as a colleague, I believe you're a person with medical ethics. My father..." I couldn't listen to his words, so I spoke directly. "Dr. Wright, my decision won't change because of anyone's persuasion." Chris's face darkened completely. "Fine. You're quite something. You're the expert, you're impressive. Well, let me tell you—tomorrow the state expert committee is meeting to discuss this. I hope you maintain this attitude." She picked up her bag and dropped one more line as she turned. "The people I despise most in my life are those who gain a little skill and start putting on airs. Doctors saving lives is a given. It's not your place to pick and choose." Her heels clicked against the floor, the sound fading away. Wright hesitated for a moment, then spoke to me. "Dr. Lester, I apologize. My wife has a quick temper. Please think it over carefully. My number is always available." Neville didn't dare breathe until Wright left. "Dr. Lester, why put yourself through this? Even if you have concerns, you could discuss them properly..." "Neville, I do have my reasons. There's no way I can perform this surgery." "Alright then... You'd better prepare well for tomorrow. I'm afraid she won't let this go." I nodded and called for Carlos to prepare to leave. Whether Chris would let it go, I didn't know. But tomorrow, I wasn't planning to let it go either.
"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."
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