From the Operating Table to the Hospital Corridor in China
Why Our Patient Accompaniment Is Different
People sometimes ask: you run Airway MedBridge China for international patients coming to China for care, and you also support overseas buyers with China medical device sourcing and audit. But you are not practicing medicine now — so what makes the accompaniment different?
Honestly, before building this service, I spent many years as a surgeon.
My Clinical Roots
General surgery was my main field — thyroid and breast above, stomach, abdomen, and anorectal below, with a particular focus on the differential assessment of abdominal pain. As a resident, I also covered orthopedics and urology wards, so those areas are familiar ground too.
Later, during advanced training at 301 Hospital (PLAGH), I mastered central venous access: subclavian and internal jugular vein catheterization, plus the fundamentals — anterior tibial venous cutdown, femoral artery and femoral vein access. Parenteral and enteral nutrition followed naturally.
The Ventilator Translation
When our department brought in an orthopedic surgeon returning from Hong Kong (formerly with Beijing Emergency Medical Center) to lead surgical critical care, I was selected to join. The department had just purchased an Olympus ventilator with only an English manual. My director handed it to me: “No Chinese version. Translate it.” I spent nights in the library, working through the machine and real cases, and finally delivered a full Chinese translation. Then he smiled and pulled out an existing Chinese manual — “just to push you.” That experience forced me to truly understand ventilatory support, fast.
Neurosurgery Days at Beijing Electric Hospital
Later, as the hospital prepared to develop neurosurgery, we worked with Professor Ding Yuji’s team from Xuanwu Hospital (a leading figure second only to Professor Wang Zhongcheng in Chinese neurosurgery). I, together with several senior nurses, joined their neurosurgical cooperation site at Beijing Electric Hospital. Professor Ding led the critical steps; we focused on postoperative management — brain hemorrhage, cerebral infarction, brain tumors, and cerebrovascular malformations post-surgery. For a patient who had lost spontaneous breathing, we relied on what our department used to call, informally, the “three agents plus mannitol” — antibiotics, corticosteroids, and vitamins, with mannitol for support. Beyond that, everything was meticulous bedside work: biochemistry, blood gas, oxygen saturation, electrolytes. Maintaining respiration and heartbeat with a ventilator for two weeks was, back then, simply the baseline.
Tracheostomy was second nature in both general surgery and critical care. Yet, interestingly, I did not truly master laryngoscope intubation until years later, when I began working with airway devices — video laryngoscopes and conventional laryngoscopes.
One Case I Still Remember
One case from those years stays with me — not for drama, but for what it reminded me of.
A visiting senior surgeon brought in a young patient — I recall she was 9, or perhaps 13 — with a suspected breast tumor; a mastectomy was already planned. On pre-op examination, my impression leaned toward a benign lesion, though I claimed no certainty. Before scrubbing in, the professor said, “Prep for the full mastectomy.” I asked, as calmly as I could: “Could we send an intraoperative frozen section first, and only proceed if it confirms malignancy?” He was confident in his assessment, and perhaps also pressed for time. I did not challenge his standing — I simply held to the routine that ought to be followed. So I proposed: a local excision first, frozen section sent, and the surgeon comes in only if needed.
He agreed. The frozen section came back non-malignant. The incision was closed. No mastectomy.
It was long ago, in a different setting. I tell it not to judge anyone, only to mark two things I carried forward: some steps deserve to be followed, and one should be willing to stand by a measured judgment.
What This Means for You
At Airway MedBridge China, we do not diagnose, treat, or issue medical opinions. That is never our role.
But when you are inside a Chinese hospital — facing a surgical plan, a ventilator-dependent family member, a neuro-ICU discharge plan, or a consent form you cannot fully parse — having someone who has stood on that side of the operating table changes the quality of your questions.
We will not tell your doctor what to do.
We will help you ask the right “why,” the right “before we proceed,” the right “what if the frozen section is negative?”
A quieter, sharper kind of accompaniment. Grounded in years most companions never had.