Safit was the first reporter to enter the preparation room and the most curious about the changes in Kawi's treatment plan.
During the period after he returned to the ward after the blood transfusion, in addition to pressing the bleeding point on his elbow and eating the lunch delivered by the surgical assistant, he was always thinking about how to write today's events into his journal. In news reports.
The whole thing became a lot more mediocre after these changes. Once the news became mediocre, mainstream newspapers and those tabloids that focused on the bottom's dirty tricks became the mainstream sales on the street. The sales of newspapers like "The Paris Review" can be Just imagine.
From his original intention, he did not want to mess around, which goes against the professional spirit of journalists.
So in the auditorium of the surgical theater, the troubled Safet tried other people's words to see what they thought.
In fact, after many doctors agreed with Kawei's views and practices, he gave up somewhat. After exchanging opinions with his colleagues, Safet finally realized that this might not be a good idea.
Until he left the Main Palace Hospital and overheard a conversation on the street corner...【1】
The target was the reporter who had just gone for a blood transfusion with him and worked at the Le Figaro newspaper. The other one had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose, making it difficult to see his face. But judging from the conversation between the two, the other person should be the doctor from the Main Palace Hospital, and he was in the preparation room just now.
Safit previously thought that his imagination was already very rich, but who knew that the reality was even richer, and the other party's operation completely exceeded everyone's expectations.
The conversation between the two was very short and ended in less than three minutes. He listened on the street corner for three minutes and his hands shook for three minutes. This is not because of how cold it is in late autumn in Paris, but because of excitement, an excitement that grasps the straw of fate.
This is not a medical issue, it is simply unethical and despised behavior.
Moreover, it involves the chief physician of the largest hospital in Paris and the recently popular Austrian surgeon. No matter what angle you use to write it, you can create a shocking thing, and you don't have to worry about being unable to think of words.
This is how news is interesting, and only in this way can newspapers be sold. Safit seems to have found the joy of being a reporter again.
Around five o'clock in the afternoon, after watching the boring hernia surgery and listening to medical terms all afternoon, Safet finally returned to the newspaper office. Following him back to the newspaper office was a notebook recording the entire process, as well as a corresponding huge plan.
"Editor, I have to get your permission."
He had never been so polite to this fat middle-aged man, but it was different today. His article needed to go through him before it could be published in the newspaper. Safet carefully put the note with a general description into his hand, and at the same time lit the cigarette he had just held in his hand. His words were flattering:
"I can guarantee that tomorrow's "Paris Review" will be the second Le Figaro... No, no, no, we sell it much cheaper than Figaro. Tomorrow must belong to "Paris Review"!"
Editor Joskin was his old boss. He knew very well how much this man weighed, and he never took this note to heart from the beginning.
So when he unfolded the note, he was only slightly surprised and quickly regained his composure: "Is this why you've been talking for so long?"
Safet didn't expect this reaction from the other party: "You, look carefully, it's Kawei, the director of obstetrics at the Main Palace Hospital, his name is..."
"Hugel Jean Burns." The editor snorted, "I'm not as casual as you. I know the staffing of the Palace Hospital much better than you do, especially the obstetrics department. Where did this Hugel graduate? I know how many surgeries I have had, how many friends I have, and how many 'enemies' I have had."
"Isn't this an excellent news source?"
Joskin raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at his subordinate as if he were a fool: "Are you kidding me? Are you sure you want to write this matter into tomorrow's newspaper?"
Safet knew that the other party was still angry about a report he had written while drunk last week, so he quickly explained: "These are all true, I heard the news with my own ears. The other party is a subordinate of Professor Hugill, and I myself I also went into the preparation room to draw blood, etc..."
"It has nothing to do with whether it's true or false."
Joskin sighed, put the note into the oil lampshade, lit it and threw it into the ashtray. He looked at the paper ashes huddled together after being quickly swallowed up by the flames, touched his stomach and said: "Some shells cannot be exploded, at least not yet."
As soon as he finished speaking, he felt that this sentence was not enough to describe the current situation, so he changed his words: "No, it shouldn't be stuffed into the gun barrel at all, it should stay quietly in the wooden box...even Everything was wrong in its creation."
Safet finally understood: "What are you worried about again?"
"The situation is unclear." Joskin cherished words like gold and did not want to say more. "Let's change the title. There is no way to publish this article."
"Even if we don't publish it, Le Figaro will definitely publish it. Why not publish it with them? There will be no problem!" Safet was very confident and took two steps forward to the editor. Yan persuaded, "Our sales have dropped again recently. We can't compare with those messy tabloids. We can't continue like this!"
However, Joskin had no reaction to these words and just shook his head: "It is true that Le Figaro can be published, but believe me, it is impossible for them to publish it under the current situation."
"It doesn't make sense, it really doesn't make sense!"
"If it's issued, I'll give you 40 francs." Joskin took out a banknote from his pocket, put it on the table and sent it in his direction, "I'll give you the 20 francs first...don't be too old Thinking of becoming popular overnight, if the media has reached this point, it is not a good thing to become popular."
For people like Safit, money is hot to the touch: "Give it to me when I win."
After saying that, he slammed the door and left the editor's office.
The Paris Review is very moderate. When reporting news, it tries to be objective and does not express sharp opinions. It seems to be following the trend. Although the title is a bit bold, people who read it over time will know what the content is and won't buy it.
Compared with those newspapers that follow the mass line of the bottom, it is easier to attract attention.
All kinds of sexy news are the main body, interspersed with some noble scandals as branches and leaves. It is best to add some surprising news from abroad to embellish it, and it becomes an excellent news feast. The main thing is to make things up. Even if some of them are real people, they have to be added to the story.
Why can small newspapers make money writing random things, but not when he wants to really start a scandal?
Safit's mind was filled with "unfairness", so he finished writing the manuscript and went home in a daze.
"You're finally back. Do you remember what happened tomorrow night?" My wife was setting out the knives and forks for dinner. "We agreed to come back at four o'clock in the afternoon, but don't come back late because of some gossip."
Safet had already forgotten about this. He sat on the table, grabbed some bread, and was about to put it in his mouth: "Huh? What's the matter?"
"You, what did you say?!" His wife's hand stopped in mid-air and she looked at him blankly, "Have you forgotten?"
After living together for so many years, Safet could hear the change in her tone and realized something was wrong. But the more anxious he is, the stupider his mind becomes. It seems that he had talked about this matter yesterday, but he just couldn't remember it: "I, I really... I have been under a lot of pressure at work recently, and I really can't remember it."
"Are you stressed at work?"
The wife threw down the spoon in her hand, took off her apron, and said in a hushed voice like hot water about to be boiled: "I get up at four in the morning to work as a milkman, and go to wash Mrs. Ramos' clothes at eight. If I can survive in the afternoon, I have to help out in the tailor shop just to give some money to my family!"
"Okay, okay, it's my fault, I..."
The woman's emotions are like a lit haystack, and she can't stop: "What are you doing during this time? Just stay in that newspaper office and write some shabby articles. Your monthly salary is only 80 francs, and you talk about how tired you are all day long. .You are the most tired, I am not tired at all, right? I have to go home and get you something to eat, I am not tired!
! "
"I'm just a reporter, 80 francs is not bad."
"Reporter, why did the reporter I met before have 260 francs?"
"That's what Figaro reported..." Safet couldn't help it when he mentioned this, "Do I owe you? Or did I treat you wrong? Did I go out drinking and gambling? Or did I find other women? Already?"
"Yes, yes, you are right, I was wrong, okay!"
"This is the money, what do you want me to do?"
"You only ask me what to do, are you a man???"
"I......"
For Safit, this process of blaming each other was all too familiar. It was a common quarrel between couples, and the initiator was nothing more than the word money.
Before, he had no choice but to go out and sulk, and then go home and reconcile with his wife when he was really tired. After all, he still had to live his life. But it's different now. He has actually been holding an opportunity in his hands, a chance to make a comeback.
Safit, who once again left the house to calm down alone, stared blankly at the sun that was almost completely setting: "I remembered that I was accompanying her for hypnotherapy for infertility. My brain..."
He clenched his fist and hit his forehead several times. When the pain was so painful that he didn't dare to use force anymore, he spread his legs and ran quickly to the newspaper office.
.......
Kawei's operation will naturally be reported. Although the cesarean section was stillborn, the hernia operation was completed beautifully.
】
For a time, there was another wave of Carvey in the streets of Paris. Both Cediyo and Hugier became his foils. Even the former surgical emperor seemed to be overshadowed by his light. It seems that if surgery in this world wants to develop, it must be led by Kawei, otherwise it will inevitably fail. 【2】
"I'm not interested in newspapers."
Kawei rarely ran to the restaurant for breakfast early in the morning. He shook his head at the newspaper delivered to his hand and raised his hand to take the dinner plate: "Not to mention that the reports in it are inaccurate and have no nutrition at all. It is just a waste of time."
Walking beside him was Shanwang. Compared with the three old assistants, the reactions to Kawei felt very fresh to him: "Not all of them are complimentary, some are also skeptical." [3]
Kawei sighed, picked a piece of ham sliced bread and an omelette, and forced the topic away: "How was the review of yesterday's hernia surgery?"
"Oh, it's good. The anatomical position is basically clear."
"Well, remember the anatomical levels and ask Professor Sediyo to take you to the anatomy room when you get the chance." Kawei put the bread into his mouth, looked out the window, and continued, "I didn't do any activities today, I guess it will last a whole day. I will stay here every day... I may also go to the university library. If anything happens, just leave a message."
"OK."
"By the way." Kawei waved to the waiter not far away, called the person over and asked, "Did you leave any message from me in the hotel yesterday?"
"Leave a message?" The waiter smiled, shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Kawei, I didn't pay attention, there shouldn't be one."
"Oh, forget it."
Kawei quickly ate the food in his hand. Today he was going to sort out things for blood transfusion and cesarean section, as well as prepare for the speech to the Doctors Association later. This time is no different than in college, there will definitely be more useful information, but it’s not yet easy to determine the content.
There is already one candidate, and that is the delivery with placenta previa that I just experienced yesterday.
After all, there are only a few people who can master cesarean section. Even if Kawei stayed in Vienna for more than half a year, there are only a few people who can perform this kind of surgery now. After one month in France, Kawei knew that he could not teach much, and there were limitations of equipment and drugs. More placenta previa still had to be delivered through yd.
The most common problem in yd delivery is bleeding. As long as the bleeding is solved, the next step is the problem of technique.
After thinking about his work goals, Kawei wiped his lips a little and prepared to get up and go upstairs.
At this moment, the outside of the hotel gradually became lively, and some people saw him standing up and entering the door one after another. They seemed to be very busy, and they went straight to the point when they met: "Dr. Kawei, why was your cesarean section canceled yesterday? Is there any hidden secret in it?"
Kawei thought it was just a reporter from another newspaper, so he replied: "Yesterday I told other colleagues the reason in the operating theater, and there is nothing wrong with it. If you don't believe it, you can ask them."
"I heard that the mother had dystocia. Why didn't she choose cesarean section at that time?"
"Difficult labor?" Kawei asked, "The entire delivery process started at 9 a.m. and lasted for nearly 7 hours. This should not be considered a long period, nor should it be called a difficult labor."
Several media people did not understand medicine and immediately changed their focus: "Then why did the child die? Was there something wrong during the delivery process?"
Kawei finally understood. They were not interviewing at all, but provoking trouble: "If you think there are any problems with my treatment, you can report it to the Association of Paris Surgeons. If you have any questions, you can consult Professor Hugier, director of the obstetrics department of the Palais-Dieu Hospital. If you think there is something wrong with the newspaper report, If there are any errors or omissions, go to the newspaper.”
"Does Dr. Kawei feel that he has no responsibility in the whole process?"
"Aren't you in charge of the delivery process?"
"It's really me..."
"Since it's Dr. Kawei, can you explain what this newspaper says?"
Kawei was too lazy to read this and continued to reiterate his point of view: "If you think there is something wrong with the content of the newspaper, then go to the newspaper, don't come to me. My treatment has been approved by hundreds of doctors, and the results are in line with the patient's needs." expected......"
"No, Doctor Carvey." A reporter from an unknown newspaper pointed out, "It doesn't say anything about the mother. It talks about the fetus. It says you deliberately strangled this little life."
