Pancreas
Tumors and Cancer
Likewise, she prayed for Yan Miaomiao, praying that the result would not be malignant.
One flower, one world; one leaf, one Buddha. Perhaps this world truly exists in some time and space, some universe, just like the real world.
“Have you eaten?” Jian Qing pushed open the small door of the office partition and walked in, interrupting Lu Yinxi’s contemplation.
“I’ve eaten.” Lu Yinxi brought out the heated food, “You should eat something. How are Dr. Yan’s test results?”
“It might be a pancreatic neuroendocrine tumor. It can be operated on, and there’s hope.”
“That’s good.”
Having seen so much death in the hospital, not dying had become the lowest baseline requirement.
In the oncology department, one rarely experiences the thrill and sense of accomplishment that comes with a cure. The happiest moments here are either when the patient’s tumor shrinks or disappears, or when it’s discovered that the patient doesn’t have cancer and can be saved.
Jian Qing lowered her head to eat.
Lu Yinxi stared at her eating, frowned slightly, and asked, “Don’t you look at your food when you eat?”
“Do you think you’d poison me?” Jian Qing picked up a few pieces of eggplant and put them in her bowl.
The heart shape that Lu Yinxi had painstakingly arranged with the eggplant was instantly destroyed.
She became silent, not speaking anymore.
She decided she would never try to be romantic with Jian Qing again.
It was like playing music to a cow (doing something in vain or wasting effort on someone who doesn’t appreciate it).
While eating, Jian Qing opened the clinical trial protocol for HE-A114: “I have a patient to discuss informed consent with later. It’s the patient you screened last time. Do you want to stay and observe?”
Lu Yinxi immediately snapped out of her sulk, nodded, and smiled, “Sure.” Then she let her imagination run wild, “In apocalypse movies and TV shows, these cancer clinical trials are usually the source of biochemical crises. First, they inject animals, the animals bite people, or some criminals directly inject humans, turning them into zombies. Then people bite people, and soon the whole world is in chaos, beginning a survival challenge.”
Actually, once out of the laboratory, medications used in clinical practice have already passed numerous reviews and checkpoints. In reality, the possibility of a zombie-type biochemical crisis occurring is almost zero.
Jian Qing did not destroy Lu Yinxi’s fantasy and followed her words, “There happens to be a patient who needs medication later. I’ll take you to see if it looks like a biochemical crisis.”
Lu Yinxi nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking at rice, throwing Jian Qing’s lack of romantic sentiment out of her mind.
According to ethical requirements, when conducting trials on patients, informed consent must be obtained from the patient, and an informed consent form must be signed.
When the research assistant brought the patient and his family over to discuss informed consent, Jian Qing had just finished filling her stomach.
The patient was a middle-aged man in his fifties, surnamed Chen. He lived in the countryside. Previous treatments had almost exhausted all the family’s savings, and they had borrowed as much as they could. His condition had not improved, and they really had no money to continue treatment in the provincial city. He was planning to get some painkillers and go home to wait for death.
This time, he was informed that he could participate in a clinical trial and receive free examinations and medication, but the efficacy of the medication could not be guaranteed. He slapped his thigh, thinking it was worth trying anything in a desperate situation.
Jian Qing briefly introduced the content of the trial and then allowed the patient to ask questions.
Mr. Chen’s wife asked, “Doctor, can you guarantee the treatment effect?”
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“No. Although some patients have seen certain effects so far, everyone’s constitution is different. For some, the tumor may shrink with this medication, while for others, the disease may progress faster. I will evaluate him every month, and if I find that the disease is progressing too quickly, we will immediately stop the medication.”
Mr. Chen asked, “If I try this medicine, will I die?”
He felt like a poison tester in a TV drama, where an accidental mistake could lead to his death.
“Most likely not,” Jian Qing opened the clinical trial agreement, “but nothing is absolute in clinical trials. We have purchased insurance for you. If you die or become disabled due to the medication during the clinical trial, your family will receive compensation.”
“If I don’t want to continue the trial, can I withdraw?”
“Yes, you can withdraw at any time and for any reason.”
“Is everything free?”
“Everything is free. Your travel expenses can also be reimbursed, but some consultation fees and registration fees, which are around ten to twenty yuan, may not be reimbursable.”
The couple looked at each other in silence for a while.
Jian Qing asked, “Is there anything else you need to know?”
Mr. Chen made up his mind and shook his head, “No, let’s give it a try. It’s like treating a dead horse as if it were alive!” (taking desperate measures in a hopeless situation.)
In any case, death is inevitable in the end. Even if the medicine is ineffective, at least I can get a free check-up, reducing some burden for my wife and children at home.
Research assistant Xiao Huang took out the informed consent form: “Uncle Chen, please sign the informed consent form. After you sign, we will issue you a new medical card, and then we can start arranging your check-up. If you pass the check-up, you will officially participate in the trial. If you do not pass, we will not charge you for this check-up.”
The remaining tasks would be handled by the assistant. After finishing the informed consent process, Jian Qing took Lu Yinxi to the ward to see the medication of the HE-A114 clinical trial subjects.
“That is 001,” Jian Qing indicated to Lu Yinxi, “the first subject in the country to receive the medication.”
To protect privacy, the names of patients entering clinical trials are erased and they are referred to by numerical codes.
Patients participating in clinical trials look no different from ordinary chemotherapy patients; they all lie in hospital beds, hooked up to IV drips, receiving infusions.
The only difference is that they are being infused with a new drug whose efficacy is unknown.
Jian Qing looked at 001 with a hint of relief in her eyes: “His tumor has shrunk significantly. This time’s efficacy evaluation reached PR.”
PR, Partial Response, means the product of the longest diameter and the longest perpendicular diameter of the tumor has shrunk by 50%, with no increase in other lesions, and this condition has lasted for more than a month.
As Jian Qing softly shared this information, Lu Yinxi’s lowered right hand gently touched Jian Qing’s right hand.
Two hands, one warm, one cold, briefly touched.
Lu Yinxi couldn’t help but extend her pinky finger and quietly hooked Jian Qing’s pinky finger.
She was once again sharing her own joy with her.
In that joy, there was a mix of pride, comfort, and self-satisfaction.
Her Dr. Jian was a doctor, a teacher, and also a researcher.
Sometimes, being a doctor, a teacher, or a researcher is just a job, not a glamorous identity, not a grand ambition, just a routine job to make a living and support a family.
Other times, healing the sick and saving lives, rescuing the dying and helping the injured, is the ideal one starts with upon entering medical school; research, exploring an unknown field, and contributing to the temple of medicine, is the belief that intellectuals hold dear.
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People who have been beaten by society do not have the scholar’s fervor, do not talk about ideals, beliefs, and sentiments, but only say “Studying medicine is stable, oncology pays well, there are fewer doctor-patient disputes, and it’s easier to publish papers.”
But Lu Yinxi truly felt the sense of belief hidden deep in Jian Qing’s heart.
From the moment at the academic conference in City C, when Jian Qing, across hundreds of people, looked at her in the last row and shared her joy, she felt it.
In the real world, she had once read a novel where, under the interference of aliens, some physicists on Earth mistakenly believed that physics did not exist, that all current physical research was meaningless, and thus chose to end their own lives.
At that time, she did not fully understand it, but now, experiencing it herself, she began to grasp a bit of it.
Scientific research, its starting point and destination, is ultimately about human self-realization.
If the self does not truly exist, if humanity does not truly exist, if none of this exists, what meaning does medical research have?
If this world is not truly real, and you are just a character in a book—once this idea is confirmed, it is enough to destroy any researcher’s belief.
She would never say this out loud.
Although it was said that work would resume on the seventh day, this afternoon, Lu Yinxi brought food but did not go home. She stuck close behind Jian Qing, like a little tail.
In the evening after work, Lu Yinxi went for a jog on the track at Jiang University campus, while Jian Qing walked slowly around the track with her hands in her pockets, occasionally glancing at Lu Yinxi’s position.
A retired professor was walking his Samoyed around the track. Seeing Jian Qing, he waved and greeted, “Xiaojian, out for some exercise? Young people should exercise more. Look at the Samoyed my wife bought me, isn’t it cute? Ever since we got it, I take it out for a walk every day.”
Jian Qing nodded and called him teacher, earnestly praising, “Cute.”
She glanced again at Lu Yinxi, who was at the same spot.
Now she also had to take someone out for a walk every week.
On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, the track was sparsely populated.
During the first lap, as Lu Yinxi ran past Jian Qing, she casually mentioned, “Dr. Jian, I also really like cats.”
Jian Qing’s expression was indifferent. She glanced at her and said, “They shed hair. Not allowed.”
Lu Yinxi snorted softly, turned her head away, and continued running.
Did she want to keep a cat?
No, she wanted to go to a cat café.
On the second lap, when they met again, Lu Yinxi slowed her pace and asked, “On the first day of the Lunar New Year, the woman who went to the cat café with you on a date, does she have someone she likes?”
Jian Qing looked down and kicked away the stone at her feet: “She just broke up last month.”
Lu Yinxi snorted coldly: “Didn’t you say last time that it wasn’t a date? Why aren’t you denying it this time?”
Jian Qing was stunned for a second, then raised her head and said seriously: “Then you ask the question again.”
Lu Yinxi turned her head away and ignored her.
On the third lap, Lu Yinxi moved close to her again: “What are we eating tonight?”
Jian Qing thought for a moment and asked: “Zhajiangmian?” (noodles with soybean paste)
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“Add extra spice for me!” Lu Yinxi smiled and ran off.
On the fourth lap, the sky had completely darkened. In the electricity-saving campus, they finally turned on the dim yellow lights.
The lights only illuminated the outer track. Jian Qing walked on the dark inner track, and her facial expression was unclear.
As the distance between them shortened, Lu Yinxi switched from the outer to the inner track, blending into the darkness together.
A gust of wind blew past. Jian Qing heard the familiar sound of running and waited for Lu Yinxi’s customary question.
This time, Lu Yinxi didn’t say anything and brushed past her directly.
Jian Qing’s gaze was glued to Lu Yinxi’s back.
After running a few meters away, Lu Yinxi suddenly slowed down her pace.
The night was dark and unclear. Her heart was pounding fiercely. Her fists clenched and unclenched, unclenched and clenched again. Finally, she made up her mind, gathered her courage, turned around, and asked: “Jian Qing, do you have someone you like?”
The author has something to say:
The New Year has passed, and the hospital storyline continues~~~
