Morris saw his daughter's skull being opened and the brainstem exposed, and he couldn't help but feel tense, as if his heart was clenched in his hand.
He stared at the screen, clenching his fists, trying to keep his breathing steady.
At this moment, his daughters' lives were hanging on the tip of the surgeon's knife, and as a family member, it was the first time he felt the sacredness of being a surgeon, a feeling that was unforgettable.
It was as if every cut the doctor made was on his own heart, with each incision tightening his heart involuntarily.
The most critical step of the surgery began, the brainstem was exposed, and now they had to cut it and separate it in half. This step was crucial, any mistake could cause irreversible cardiac and respiratory arrest.
Everyone held their breath, their eyes glued to the screen, because they all knew the success or failure of the surgery depended on this step, and any slight error could stop the patient's heartbeat and breathing.
