UGB Chapter 1402 Director Gao
Chapter 1402 Director Gao
Chapter 1402 Director Gao
Gao Yuan stood in front of the arthroscopy simulator, holding the control handle in his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen. He was like a statue, with only his fingertips moving slightly.
On the screen was a virtual knee joint, its 3D reconstructed anatomy meticulously detailed: a torn meniscus, a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament—typical athlete injuries. He gently rotated his wrist, and the arthroscope moved within the virtual joint cavity like a nimble fish, probing the intercondylar fossa, skimming over the femoral condyle, and precisely reaching the posterior horn of the meniscus. The simulator's feedback of force was realistic and nuanced; he could "feel" the subtle elasticity when the probe touched the cartilage—the feel of healthy tissue. If it became brittle or hard, it indicated cartilage degeneration. This tactile sensation was something he had etched into his neural memory over twenty years.
A line of green data popped up on the screen: operation time 4 minutes and 32 seconds, instrument path efficiency 97.3%, suture tension deviation ±0.2N. This result would be considered perfect in any surgery. But Gao Yuan frowned slightly. He felt he could have been faster. Revision surgery is different from the initial surgery; scar tissue will mess up the normal anatomical layers, leaving him only a few centimeters of field of vision under the arthroscopy. Any unnecessary movement would be an intrusion into the surrounding tissues.
"Director Gao, aren't you leaving yet?" The nurse on duty poked her head in, carrying a bag of takeout food.
"Practice a little longer." Gao Yuan didn't turn around, his gaze remaining fixed on the screen. "There's a complex revision surgery tomorrow, let's rehearse it."
The nurse shook her head and gently closed the door. She was used to it; Director Gao did this almost every day. In his forties, already a top expert in sports medicine in China and the head of the sports medicine department at Sanbo Hospital, he still spent two or three hours a day in front of the simulator like an intern. The younger doctors in the department privately discussed that Director Gao's pursuit of surgery had reached an "obsessive" level. Before every surgery, he would repeatedly rehearse on the simulator, anticipating all possible variations, and even the placement of instruments had to be precise down to the natural curve of the fingers.
She didn't know that Director Gao had always worked this hard. He had been doing so since he was a resident physician twenty years ago.
A few years ago, Gao Yuan was already the director of the Department of Sports Medicine at Sanbo Hospital, holding a doctorate, associate senior professional title, and master's supervisor. Reaching this position at that age would be considered a great achievement in anyone's career. He was in charge of more than a dozen doctors in the department and performed thousands of surgeries every year.
But Gao Yuan did something that no one could understand.
Despite his position as department head, he would go to the research institute whenever he had free time. He helped the doctors change dressings, carried patients to beds, lifted their legs before surgery, and pushed patients to get examinations. When the young doctors at the institute first saw him squatting in the corridor changing dressings for patients, they were so shocked that they almost dropped the instrument tray they were holding.
"Director Gao... what are you doing here?"
"Change the dressing!" Gao Yuan said without looking up, his movements clean and efficient.
In fact, everyone knew that his real purpose in going to the research institute was to visit one person: Yang Ping!
The first time Gao Yuan saw Yang Ping perform surgery, he stood by for hours without moving. After the surgery, his legs were so numb that he could barely walk.
“Professor Yang, I want to learn arthroscopy from you,” he said.
Yang Ping glanced at him: "You're the director now, are you going to learn from me?"
“Technology knows no social status,” Gao Yuan said. “If your technology is better than mine, then I should learn from you.”
Yang Ping didn't say anything, just nodded. From that day on, Gao Yuan became Yang Ping's "unofficial student." He stood beside Yang Ping watching surgeries, sometimes for hours on end, sometimes watching three or four surgeries a day. He watched how Yang Ping established the approach, how he treated the synovium, how he protected blood vessels and nerves, and how he completed complex suturing in a narrow space. He memorized every movement of Yang Ping's and practiced it repeatedly on his simulator after returning home.
The people in the department didn't understand.
"Director Gao, what are you trying to achieve?" the deputy director asked him. "You're already a director, why are you learning from young people in the research institute? It won't sound good if word gets out."
"What's good or bad about it?" Gao Yuan retorted. "There are different levels of skill. Yang Ping's arthroscopy is better than mine. There's nothing shameful about me learning from him."
"But you are the director, and he is..."
“What he is doesn’t matter,” Gao Yuan said. “What matters is that he can teach me things, and that’s enough.”
Some people gossiped behind his back, saying that Gao Yuan had "lowered his standards" and "descended his status." Gao Yuan heard this but simply laughed it off. He even brought it up himself during a departmental meeting.
“I’ve heard some people say that my going to a research institute to study is ‘lowering my standards’.” He glanced around at the doctors in the conference room. “What I want to say is, if a surgeon feels that learning new technologies is ‘lowering his standards’, then that’s the real lowering of his standards. I’m over forty years old and I’m still learning. What about you?”
The meeting room was completely silent.
He knew what he was doing.
During those years, Gao Yuan's skills improved by leaps and bounds. Yang Ping taught him the delicate procedures under arthroscopy, how to precisely suture the meniscus in a confined space, how to protect the fragile cartilage, and how to handle complex revision cases. These were all practical skills that could not be learned from books. More importantly, Yang Ping taught him a way of thinking.
“Surgery is not the goal, but the means,” Yang Ping said. “What you need to think about is how to help patients regain function and how to get them back to sports. The surgical goal of sports medicine is directly related to function; it places more emphasis on function than any other department. For every procedure, you must ask: What are the benefits for the patient?”
Gao Yuan brought this mindset back to the department. He began to implement Yang Ping's surgical approach, which emphasized more precise positioning, greater attention to soft tissue protection, and a stronger focus on early postoperative rehabilitation. He reformed the surgical procedure, optimized the rehabilitation plan, and introduced the holistic concept of sports medicine. The department's surgical quality improved significantly, and the rate of patients returning to sports after surgery increased dramatically.
Just as Gao Yuan was studying with Yang Ping, a foreigner came to the research institute.
Robert, Chief of Sports Medicine at the Hospital for Special Surgery, New York, President of the North American Arthroscopy Society, and one of the most influential figures in the global sports medicine field. In his early forties, blond and blue-eyed, he embodies the typical American elite.
The Hospital for Special Surgery (HSS)—what kind of place is that? It's the world's number one orthopedic hospital, ranked number one in the US for eleven consecutive years, performing over 10,000 arthroscopic surgeries annually. It boasts the world's best equipment, the most abundant funding, and the most comprehensive training system. And yet, the head of a department at such a hospital actually came to China to learn arthroscopy.
The news caused an uproar at the hospital.
But Robert was serious. After witnessing Yang Ping's surgery, he was awestruck by the precision, fluidity, and almost artistic nature of his technique. HSS had the best equipment in the world, but Yang Ping's skill—that almost instinctive "feel" honed under relatively rudimentary conditions—was something HSS couldn't teach. So he moved into the dormitory at Sanbo Hospital with just a suitcase and stayed there for three months.
Gao Yuan came to see Yang Ping as usual that day. Pushing open the door to the training room, he saw a foreigner practicing arthroscopic procedures in the corner, his movements clumsy but focused. Yang Ping introduced him: "This is Robert, the director of HSS, who came to learn the technique from us. This is Gao Yuan, the director of the Department of Sports Medicine."
Robert looked up and extended his hand: "Gao, I've heard Professor Yang mention you. He said you work very hard to learn the technology."
Gao Yuan grasped his hand: "Aren't you one too? The director of HSS, who came all the way to China to stay in a dormitory."
The two looked at each other and smiled.
At that moment, they both knew that the other was like them, the kind of person who would give up everything for technology.
For those three months, Gao Yuan and Robert became "classmates." They stood next to Yang Ping watching surgeries, practiced together in the training room until late at night, discussed cases together, and were both scolded by Yang Ping for being "too clumsy." Yang Ping treated them all equally, showing no special courtesy to Robert just because he was a foreigner, nor any leniency to Gao Yuan just because he was the director.
“Robert, you’re wrong here.” Yang Ping pointed to the anatomical specimen. “The current mainstream methods cannot fully expose the posterior horn of the medial meniscus. You need to use my new method.”
“Director Gao, your tension control is still not good enough.” Yang Ping then turned to Gao Yuan. “If the sutures are too tight, the cartilage will die; if they are too loose, healing will not be good. This balance depends on feel and practice.”
The two directors were being reprimanded like two interns, but they both enjoyed it.
In the evenings, they often went out for late-night snacks together. In a small alley near the hospital, at a barbecue stall, two men in their forties would talk about surgery, techniques, and their understanding of medicine, while drinking beer. "Gao, why did you study sports medicine?" Robert asked.
"I like it," Gao Yuan said.
“Same!” Robert raised his beer glass. “But more than that, I enjoy the thrill of getting someone back on the field. When you see someone back on the field because of your surgery, that sense of accomplishment… it’s like you’ve been a part of someone else’s life.”
Gao Yuan laughed and said, "Enjoy it?"
Robert said earnestly, "Yes, enjoy it!"
Three months passed quickly, and on the day Robert was to leave, Gao Yuan saw him off at the airport.
“Wow, I’ve learned more in these three months than in the past ten years,” Robert said. “It’s not just about technique, it’s about attitude. Professor Yang taught me that true skill is honed under rudimentary conditions and through an extreme pursuit of every detail.”
“Me too!” Gao Yuan said.
“Let’s become sworn brothers,” Robert suddenly said. “According to your Chinese saying, fellow disciples are for life.”
Gao Yuan paused for a moment, then patted Robert on the shoulder heavily: "Okay, brother."
“Brother!” Robert repeated in fluent Chinese.
After Robert returned to his country, Gao Yuan and he never lost contact.
They held weekly video conferences to discuss cases and share new technologies. Gao Yuan sent Robert videos of cases unique to China: elbow injuries in table tennis players, rotator cuff tears in badminton players, and stress fractures in the spine of gymnasts. Robert brought these cases to the HSS podium, telling the world: Chinese doctors handle these injuries in a way that is unique in the world.
“Gao, you should come and see HSS,” Robert said in the video. “Not to learn, but to exchange ideas. Let them see what Chinese technology is like.”
"I will go," Gao Yuan said. "Once I've got the department up and running."
Soon after, Gao Yuan formally submitted a cooperation application to HSS, not for further studies, but to establish a sister department relationship.
The process went surprisingly smoothly. Robert, as the director of the HSS Sports Medicine Department, had absolute authority. He said directly at the board meeting, "Gao Yuan from Sanbo Hospital is my brother and Professor Yang's student. I have personally witnessed his skills. We don't need assessments or tests; we can cooperate directly."
The board asked, "Why?"
“Because I trust him,” Robert said, “just like I trust myself.”
Since then, the Department of Sports Medicine at Sanbo Hospital and HSS have become sister departments. They visit each other every year and work side by side in each other's operating rooms. When Robert comes to Sanbo, Gao Yuan shows him cases with Chinese characteristics; when Gao Yuan goes to HSS, Robert entrusts him with the most complex surgeries. They publish articles together, develop international standards together, and speak together at global sports medicine conferences.
Once, after a conference in San Francisco, the two were sitting in a seaside bar drinking beer. Robert suddenly said, "Gao, do you know what I'm most grateful for?"
"what?"
“That year I went to China,” Robert said. “If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have met Professor Yang, I wouldn’t have met you, and we wouldn’t have this collaboration today. HSS and Sanbo, two world-class sports medicine centers, were brought together because of one person’s decision.”
“That person is you,” Gao Yuan said. “You gave up your position as the director of HSS to come to China as a student. Not everyone can do that.”
“You did it too,” Robert said. “You’re the director, and you’re also Professor Yang’s student. We’re the same.”
Gao Yuan raised his glass: "To Professor Yang."
"A toast to Professor Yang!" Robert clinked his glass. "And a toast to our brotherhood! Heroes cherish each other!"
Now, Gao Yuan stands at the window of the Sports Medicine Center of Sanbo Hospital, looking down at the bustling patients below.
This is already a top-tier sports medicine center in China and internationally renowned, on par with the Third Affiliated Hospital of Beijing Medical University and considered a sister department to HSS. Every year, over one hundred domestic and international doctors come here for advanced training, and his students are spread throughout the country. Some have become department heads in other hospitals, some serve ordinary sports injury patients in grassroots hospitals, and some have become team doctors for the national team. Each of them carries with them what Gao Yuan taught them—not just technical skills, but also attitude.
The phone rang; it was a video call from Robert.
“Gao, I’m going to Nandu next week with a new project.” Robert’s face appeared on the screen.
"What project?" Gao Yuan asked.
"The board has approved the establishment of the global sports medicine training center jointly by HSS and Sanbo," Robert said. "You will be the director."
Gao Yuan was stunned for a moment: "Me?"
“Of course it’s you,” Robert laughed. “Who’s more suitable than you? You’re both a top surgeon and the best teacher. You understand Professor Yang’s techniques best. This center needs to combine the techniques of Sanbo and HSS to cultivate the world’s best sports medicine talents. You’re the only one who can do it.”
Gao Yuan was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Okay."
“And another thing,” Robert said, his smile fading, “I have a knee surgery coming up next month, a very complicated one. The patient has had three surgeries before, this is the fourth. The joint is full of scar tissue, the normal anatomical layers are completely indistinguishable. I’d like to ask you to come to New York and be my consultant.”
"consultant?"
“Yes, you have more experience in complex repairs than I do. On the operating table, I need you to stand beside me and tell me: how to proceed here, how to handle there.”
Gao Yuan laughed: "I will definitely go, but you have to teach me first. I haven't learned that new knee cartilage replacement technique you mentioned last time."
“Come to New York, and I’ll teach you step by step,” Robert said, “just like Professor Yang taught us back then.”
After hanging up the phone, Gao Yuan returned to the simulator. On the screen, the virtual knee joint was still waiting. He gripped the controller and gently rotated his wrist.