Medical Center. Operating Room.
Dr. Campbell was fixing her mistake.
This moment also marked the end of her 40-year surgical career.
"Dr. Duncan, show her how it's done," she said.
After a round of biting sarcasm, Dr. Campbell didn't kick Christina out of the operating room. Instead, she turned to Adam.
"I'll perform a pulmonary artery incision, get a clear view of the clot, and pull it out with atraumatic forceps…" Adam started with the most standard approach, then rattled off several new techniques he'd just come up with. Each one tailored to a specific scenario.
Dr. Campbell listened, stunned into silence.
After a long pause, she sighed, "I'm getting old…"
"This world really does belong to you young folks," she continued with a wistful shake of her head. "Looks like it's time for me to retire."
"The medical field still needs wise, experienced veterans like you, Dr. Campbell, to keep things steady," Adam said with a comforting smile. "If you became a full-time professor, passing down your invaluable knowledge to med students, it could be a fresh start."
"Ha!" Dr. Campbell chuckled and waved him off. "Forget it. I can't even be bothered to teach these clumsy, arrogant residents in the hospital. You think I'd have the patience for a bunch of clueless newbies?
My fate's tied to this operating room. For 40 years, holding a scalpel in here, I've been a god—the first female god! Outside of this room and that scalpel, I've got nothing. And I don't want anything else.
These past few years, as my hands started failing me, what's left? My glory, my dignity—it's all fading. Even the lowliest resident dares to mock me behind my back, calling me a stubborn fossil, or challenge my teaching to my face…"
"I'm sorry," Christina blurted out, stepping forward to apologize without any prompting from Adam.
She suddenly felt a pang of empathy, sensing the quiet sorrow and pain buried in Dr. Campbell's words. It hit her on a personal level—they were so alike.
"You're not sorry to me," Dr. Campbell said, fixing her with a deep, piercing look. "Dr. Yang, you're sorry to yourself.
I know you think it won't be long before you're the next me—or the next Grey. But I know you. You're a surgeon obsessed with the heart. When you started your internship in cardiothoracic surgery, your skills were already on par with a second-year resident. Now, a year later, you're as good as any senior resident in that field.
But outside of cardiothoracic? You're just above average—nothing exceptional. That's going to hold you back, big time. Your near-miss with that botched surgery last time proves it. Your overall foundation determines your ceiling. If you don't change, you'll never be the next me—or the next Grey."
She glanced at Adam beside her, shaking her head with a sigh. "Talent's a cruel thing. You just can't compare…"
Dr. Campbell returned to the surgery, and the room fell quiet.
Once the critical part was done, Christina, who'd been silent until now, suddenly spoke up. "My dad died in a car accident when I was little. I was in the car too. After the crash, his chest was torn open. Before the ambulance arrived, I kept my hand pressed against the wound, feeling his heart beat… until it stopped."
"So that's why you're fixated on hearts," Adam said, realization dawning. He wasn't surprised, though. In the world of TV dramas, every obsession comes with a tragic backstory—it's just how it works.
"That's a sad story," Dr. Campbell said as she finished up the surgery, wrapping up her 40-year career stitch by careful stitch. She wasn't about to let anyone else take over, though it didn't stop her sharp tongue.
"But what's sadder is that you're on the wrong path and don't even see it. Imagine if we could go back in time and take your place. Before the ambulance got there, I'd have a 50% chance of saving your dad. Dr. Duncan? 90%. You? Maybe 10%, because your basics are too weak.
At a crash site, what medical tools are there? None. Without equipment, how could you avoid screwing up? Back then, you'd mess up everything! If we really had a shot to go back, your dad's death would be entirely on you!"
Adam's mouth twitched.
Dr. Campbell was on fire today—her sharp tongue rivaled even Dr. House. Once she latched onto someone, she tore into them without mercy.
But it was a good thing.
Christina might be Adam's friend, but he was all for someone giving her a brutal wake-up call. He'd warned her over and over, but she'd never taken it seriously.
This time, Dr. Campbell's words hit hard enough to drag out a painful past Christina had never shared with anyone. It clearly shook her to the core—and that was progress.
Plus, it gave Dr. Campbell a chance to vent some of her own grief about leaving. Two birds, one stone. A total win-win!
And honestly, Dr. Campbell was spitting facts. She even threw in a time-travel analogy straight out of Back to the Future to drive it home. Christina became a doctor because she regretted not saving her dad back then. But if she kept obsessing over hearts and neglecting the rest of her medical foundation, she'd be just as helpless now as she was then—watching her dad die all over again, hands pressed uselessly against his chest.
"Experience really does trump all," Adam thought. "The surgical chief's still the surgical chief."
Just look at Christina's shell-shocked expression—she was a mess. The chief probably saw this coming and refused to step in himself.
As Dr. Campbell reluctantly finished the surgery, they moved to the scrub room.
"Some surgeries leave even the best doctors powerless," she murmured while washing up. "I made a mistake—a big one—and I'm sorry for it. But I'm just human. As a human, I've got nothing to apologize for. Everyone messes up."
"Margaret…" The surgical chief stepped in, trying to offer some comfort.
"Don't," Dr. Campbell cut him off, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. "I know everything. As the end of my 40-year career, this wasn't perfect—because no ending ever is for me. But it's not the worst either.
Today, I'm stepping away. Now you can focus all your energy on actually improving this teaching hospital's standards. Without us around, if the medical center's teaching rankings still don't climb, that's on you and your lousy management.
When the board pushes you into early retirement, take it in stride. Don't cling on like I did. When the glory and dignity fade, at least I can say I gave my whole life to surgery. What about you?
As surgical chief, you've spent more time and energy running things than you ever did as a general surgeon in the OR. In that sense, you don't even measure up to me. So don't follow my example."
The surgical chief stood there, speechless.
(End of Chapter)