As a doctor employed by the Continental Hotel, Elion naturally has certain skills that make him special.
But Sebastian trusted more in the team that had been specially prepared for this surgery. With no one from the hotel willing to take the risk, he thought that Elion, who had accepted at the last moment, was not aware of all the problems that could arise.
That was also the reason why he did not give him more responsibilities.
"We have time, let's not rush."
"Got it." Having managed to eliminate the pressure of death, César, as the first assistant, performed with great steadiness.
Those steady hands were like the most precise machine. Skin, subcutaneous tissue, muscles, peritoneum: under César's skilled scalpel, they were cut layer by layer, like an onion.
Under his skilled scalpel, even the amount of bleeding was kept within a very small range.
Elion, on the side, also provided timely updates on Albert's current condition.
"Blood pressure 120/70, heart rate 60, condition stable."
At that moment, Sebastian, who was also the chief surgeon, suddenly spoke: "We need to expose the tumor more completely and perform deep retraction!"
Elion quickly handed the deep-entry retraction device to the second assistant.
The second and third assistants worked together to open the incision, exposing more of the surgical field to the surgeon's eyes. But then came a long silence.
Elion noticed that the surgeon's forehead was already sweating.
The condition of the tumor far exceeded their expectations.
César's voice trembled slightly as he spoke: "Can you see the artery? I can't even see the abdominal aorta; the tumor completely covers it!"
The surgeon's voice was no better, and he said hoarsely, "The growth of this tumor exceeds my expectations; it's much larger than what was seen on the CT scan."
"In this situation, we have no chance of performing a resection; the risks are too great!"
A flash of concern appeared in the eyes of the nurse Wendy as she said, "We need to perform a biopsy to clarify the margins, and the only thing we can do now is pray."
Sebastian took a deep breath, shook his trembling hands, and said, "I'll do it. Fourth Assistant, take the sample to the pathology lab on the first floor for a biopsy."
The sample was quickly handed to Elion. What followed was a long wait.
When Elion returned to the operating room with the results, the four doctors were racking their brains, trying to find more possibilities.
"If the tumor hasn't invaded the arterial wall, there's still hope; we can perform a dissection."
"If it's a noninvasive liposarcoma, we can remove it from the outside, peeling it off piece by piece with blunt dissection and tissue forceps…"
At that moment, they noticed Elion's return and immediately focused their attention on this last shred of hope.
What they had just described was an ideal scenario; the real situation would depend on the biopsy results.
Elion walked in, turned on the computer, entered the matching code, and the biopsy report appeared on the screen.
When they saw the report displayed on the computer, everyone wore expressions of despair.
It was a leiomyosarcoma. A leiomyosarcoma this large could only be removed blindly, without a surgical field.
And in the process, it would be very easy to cut the abdominal aorta!
This practically meant that there was no possibility of success!
The moment they saw the report, feelings of despair and pessimism began to spread. The four doctors simultaneously took out their phones and began making calls.
After hearing a few words, Elion confirmed that they were giving their last words.
It seemed that they had no confidence in the success rate of a blind incision and, knowing the consequences of a failed surgery, ultimately had no choice but to make arrangements for their own affairs in advance.
Elion shook his head, speechless at this group of doctors who would rather come up with incredibly imaginative physical solutions than consider other options.
He took the scalpel beside him and prepared to do it himself.
Seeing Elion's actions, everyone quickly put down their phones to stop him. "Hey, Doctor Whitmore! What are you doing? Put that scalpel down!"
"Stop right there! You're going to kill us!"
"Stop! Let's talk about this first!"
"Please, don't be stubborn. This is no longer a surgery you can control!"
Someone even lunged forward and grabbed Elion's calf, making it difficult for him to approach the operating table.
Elion looked at the surgeon clinging to his leg, who was old enough to be his grandfather. "Didn't you give up? I see that you already said your last words, so why not let me try? Maybe my method will work…"
Hearing Elion say that he had a method, César sneered dejectedly. "No, please. Even though the chances are slim, a blind cut still has a chance of success. But if you act recklessly, you'll extinguish our last hope of survival!"
The surgeon on the floor said, "What César says is correct. Blind incision is difficult, but I've done it in my long surgical career. I would definitely have a higher chance of success if I did it!"
Elion smiled, lowered his head, and asked,
"Then how many times have you successfully performed a blind cut?"
An awkward expression appeared on the surgeon's face, and after a long pause, he said, "Successfully, two times out of seven attempts."
Hearing this, everyone held their breath for a moment.
A 70% mortality rate? Are they really going to risk that?
The surgeon, sensing the hidden meaning in the silence, blushed and said, "What's wrong? If any of you have a higher success rate with blind incisions than me, I'll slit my throat right now!"
Upon hearing the surgeon's words, César was the first to object.
Moreover, under the pressure of life and death, he had long wanted to find an outlet to vent his emotions.
So he immediately pointed at the surgeon and cursed, "You grumpy old man, have you wasted your life? If you had a bit more surgical experience, we wouldn't have had to give our last words!"
"Do you think it's luck to have met you? What great luck to get such a huge leiomyosarcoma! And it's even wrapping around the abdominal aorta!"
César grew angrier and angrier, and after berating the surgeon, he turned his gaze toward Elion, who was holding the scalpel. "If we're talking about who brought us bad luck, it has to be you!"
These people were not Continental employees and were not here for pleasure or money. They were all dragged to this place by Albert, who was now hanging by a delicate thread.
"I have a way to resolve the current situation and keep everyone alive, with a much higher probability of success than a blind cut. But I need two things: an apology from César and the help of everyone."
César let out a cold laugh and addressed those around him. "An apology? Has this idiot taken the wrong medicine? Does he even know what he's saying?"
What he did not notice was that, apart from him, the other three people had looks of interest in their eyes.
"What if… what if Doctor Whitmore really has a way? Even a surgery with very low chances of success, like a blind incision, is within reach. Why not listen to this doctor?
If there is a greater chance of survival, they are still willing to take the risk.
Because of that, César soon felt a strange, sharp object pressed against his waist.
At the same time, Wendy's voice sounded behind him: "Apologize to him, immediately, right now!"