Surgery Godfather-Chapter 448 - 409 Houston We Have a Problem
Chapter 448: Chapter 409: Houston, We Have a Problem!
Chapter 448: Chapter 409: Houston, We Have a Problem!
Jim Basa decided—it was time to report to the White House.
This issue had to be reported to the White House. If they were to invite the Chinese to help handle this emergency, it would be beyond his authority. The proper channels for such an invitation would have to be diplomatic, which was the Secretary of State’s job.
Jim Basa couldn’t direct the Secretary of State, but the White House could.
“This has gone beyond our capability. I need to report this to the White House, if everyone would please wait.”
Jim Basa gathered NASA’s scientists and officials for an emergency meeting in the control center’s meeting room. Even those who couldn’t be there in person were required to join via video link.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are encountering the biggest crisis we have faced since the Columbia incident in 2003. You’ve all heard the medical experts’ opinions. They made it very clear that we have to seek the assistance of a Chinese doctor. This is the only way we can resolve the crisis. These experts are the top medical professors in the United States, and their opinion represents the most professional stance. I am preparing to report this to the White House.”
Jim Basa understood the complexity of the situation. If there were any mishandling in how they dealt with this crisis, he would not only be held accountable but could also resign in disgrace.
“The International Space Station has always kept China out, now we are asking—no, begging for help. It’s not going to be easy.” Richard was concerned that under these circumstances, asking for help from China would be hard for the United States to verbalize, and China might not necessarily agree to help.
“Indeed, this is a very sensitive issue. But, under such circumstances, we can only rely on the White House to step in. We are not capable of dealing with this embarrassment. It’s our responsibility to report, but whether they are willing or capable of bringing the Chinese doctor here is their problem,” said aerospace scientist Mercado, hitting the nail on the head.
“Perhaps we’ve been overly sensitive. China doesn’t need to cooperate with us. They have already developed their own space station. We’ve been treating it like some precious secret, but they might not have even been interested,” another scientist, Vincent Bold, responded optimistically.
“This is the White House’s responsibility. All we know now is that we need the help of a Chinese doctor. Otherwise, Steven won’t make it back to Earth alive. The ‘how’ should be left up to the state.”
Most agreed to ask for help from the Chinese. If this were a problem related to aerospace technology, they would have a say on the matter. But given this is a medical emergency, all they could do other than supporting Jim Basa was nothing.
Anyone who obstructed would face criticism afterward. The truth that life is above everything else is something they could not possibly miss.
“Gentlemen, I am about to report this to the White House, does anyone have objections?” Jim Basa was eager to get this reported. If they strayed off the right path and things got turbulent, he didn’t want to become the scapegoat.
“Object? Are we objecting to Steven returning to Earth alive?”
No one dared to object. The intrusive journalists were everywhere, listening. Their opinions might be on the news as soon as the meeting finished.
—
The speed at which news circulated on the internet was faster than a newspaper. In the overhead cabin, Yang Ping was browsing the news online. The checkup results came out: Steven had a small aneurysm in his brainstem.
Yang Ping was quite interested in such complex cases. Treatment for this required interventional technique to perform spring coil embolization. However, this required a very small spring coil and the operation was extremely difficult. The blood vessels in the brain are extremely complex, far more than those in the heart and the liver. Particularly those in the brainstem near or penetrating the cranial nerve nuclei, these blood vessels were beyond the reach of the interventional technique.
Yang Ping read John Ansen’s Wechat message. Luckily, John had learned to use WeChat earlier to stay in touch with Yang Ping, since there was WiFi on the plane but one couldn’t make phone calls or send text messages.
Intervention? Cranial intervention? Even in the brainstem, and John Ansen was in Houston. It turned out it was for Steven’s illness, but Yang Ping didn’t rush to reply.
Intervention wasn’t Yang Ping’s specialty, but it didn’t matter. Yang Ping entered the system space and searched in the surgery training database to see if there was any training for interventional surgery.
In one of the many training packages available, there was indeed comprehensive interventional training available. Internal medicine, surgery, and intervention had become three coequal techniques. To perfect his medical skills, he couldn’t ignore interventional procedures. Yang Ping believed it was time to get the hang of this technique.
Yang Ping purchased a heavyweight interventional training package and underwent grueling training in the system space.
With his strong background in anatomy and surgery, the learning process for the interventional techniques was quite smooth.
The interventional procedures for all systems in the body were repeatedly practiced. Cranial intervention posed the greatest challenge and held the highest risk. Intervention in the brainstem was currently considered a restricted zone. But in the system space, there were no such restrictions.
Having conducted hundreds of operations, Yang Ping lost interest in them. Now he was choosing training packages that started with the thousands.
Regardless of the difficulty of the case or the cutting-edge intervention techniques, Yang Ping could pick anything in the system space.
After he had thoroughly mastered the interventional skills, he pushed through diseases similar to Steven’s using the case push function. He carefully researched these cases and ran through the simulations until he was proficient.
Yang Ping even practiced performing surgery in a microgravity environment on a space station, using a remote robot.
Upon finally feeling that he had completely mastered the interventional techniques, Yang Ping felt a sense of relief. If it was a suitable time, he would duplicate Steven’s case and simulate it hundreds of times. After all, what could be problematic about this operation?
“The spring coil embolization can be conducted via interventional methods. It would be safer if we used drug-eluting bead techniques.”
Yang Ping replied to John Ansen in a simple and to the point fashion.
Drug-eluting bead techniques were the most cutting-edge technology worldwide. Yang Ping wasn’t just posturing. Rather, this was the best method for Steven’s condition.
The common spring coil embolization can successfully neutralize the crisis of an aneurysm. However, it might lead to a new crisis—the spring coil left inside the blood vessel could become a ticking time bomb.
Steven would eventually have to return to Earth. If the spring coil moved during the high-speed descent, the consequences could be unimaginable.
Yang Ping’s analysis of the case was more profound than that of his American counterparts. The powerful analytical capability that he gained after practicing in the system space was something that ordinary people couldn’t compare with.
Old Cheng was sprawled out asleep, snoring while Huang Jiacai was still reading his book.
The flight attendant brought over a glass of juice, and Yang Ping leaned over to accept it.
Outside the window, the vast Pacific Ocean lay beneath. At this time, the plane had already been flying for seven hours.
—
“Houston—” Susan was calling.
“Susan!” John Ansen and Massimo stared at the screen.
The communication signal was not very good, stuttering, Susan’s anxious voice intermittent: “Houston, Houston, requesting Houston.”
It took more than ten minutes for the communication to stabilize. Susan, on the verge of tears, finally managed to say, “Houston, we have a problem!”
“Steven can’t breathe right now!” Susan expressed her fear.
“Oh my God!”
John Ansen shook his head.
Massimo was also breathlessly tense. The arteries in the brainstem were expanding progressively on the space station, 400 kilometers from the earth’s surface.
“The blood pressure can’t drop further, he’ll go into shock if it does,” Susan’s voice shivered.
“Steven? How are you feeling?” Massimo asked.
“He can’t breathe,” Susan, unable to control herself, started crying again.
“Besides giving him oxygen, I can’t do anything. He can’t breathe.” Susan was on the brink of collapse. On the space station, she had never handled such a serious case before. The loneliness and the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her thinning confidence.
“Don’t panic, we’re trying to figure something out. If necessary, we can use telemedicine equipment to assist you,” John Ansen comforted Susan.
“Steven, you’ll be fine, hang in there!” John Ansen encouraged him.
“—” Steven gave the OK sign with his hand.
But Chief Jim Basa hadn’t responded yet, everyone was waiting.
“Has Doctor Yang’s plane been in the air for five hours?” Collins asked.
“It should be close to seven hours now.” John Ansen was more anxious than anyone else.
Everyone was helpless. Even on Earth, Massimo had only a 20 percent success rate. He had performed surgery on two hundred monkeys but never on a human being.
Finally, Jim Basa emerged from the meeting room.
“The White House has been notified and assistance from China has been requested. Whether to bow or kowtow is a matter for the Secretary of State. In any case, I told them that without the help of this Chinese doctor, Steven will never be able to return home,” Jim Basa seemed to have unloaded a burden.
Now, all they could do was wait, or perhaps do something else.
But Jim Basa was still somewhat confident. The President was planning to seek re-election, so it was absolutely crucial not to stumble on this issue.
“Reporters are swarming downstairs, questioning why we rejected the help from the Chinese, why we ignored the safety of astronauts for our own selfish interests?” The secretary hurriedly reported to Jim Basa.
How did they get the information so fast? The meeting had just ended.
Looking around, the director saw people shifting their gazes, pretending to cough, shrugging helplessly. In short, everyone made it clear that there was nothing they could do about it.
The director sat down, looked at his watch, and wondered if the White House was hesitating or if the Secretary of State’s negotiations had hit a snag.
“Why is it taking so long?” Chief Medical Officer Alfa couldn’t wait any longer.
Jim Basa was relatively calm, understanding that politicians had to consider more things than experts, who tended to be straightforward.
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“Let’s wait patiently. The report has been submitted. All we can do is wait,” Jim Basa said. Who could he push? The President?
Everyone was on edge, as if the last glimmer of hope could shatter at any moment.
“Director, look, the reporters have interviewed Steven’s wife.”
The secretary opened the computer, showing Steven’s wife on the screen.
Steven’s wife was being interviewed by reporters. She also knew about the invitation to the Chinese doctor. She made it clear: “Deciding on this matter shouldn’t just be up to NASA. Family members should be involved in the decision too. She strongly demands, if the Chinese can help Steven get home, why can’t the Chinese be the hero? She accepts it, and Steven would too.”
“Now the Internet is saying that we are hesitant to invite the Chinese doctor. We are not willing to let the Chinese be the hero. We lack basic self-confidence. We are afraid of the Chinese. We—” The secretary explained the direction of the public opinion on the Internet.
“Enough!”
Jim Basa angrily said, wondering how these reporters got the news so fast. Even his washroom breaks were probably known to the reporters.
But the reporters were not wrong. What were the big shots in Washington up to? Why was there still no news?
Even Jim Basa was getting impatient.
