Chapter 2161: Chapter 1423: Starting to Feel Something
When Chen Jianguo awoke, the effects of anesthesia had not completely worn off.
He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the ceiling.
He wanted to turn his head, but his neck was very stiff, as if something was holding it in place. He tried to move his gaze away from the ceiling, inching little by little. The first thing he saw was the IV stand, with three bags of fluid hanging on it—one transparent, one slightly yellow, and one milky white. Next was the monitor, its green waveform jumping on the black screen, accompanied by a crisp "beep" with each heartbeat. Further over, there was a chair with someone sitting on it.
His wife.
Sister Li was sitting in the chair, her head leaned against the wall, asleep. Her hair was a bit tousled, and there was a red imprint on her face from her sleeve, with a thermos cup clutched in her hand.
Chen Jianguo watched her, not making a sound. He was afraid that if he made a sound, he would wake her. She was too tired, since yesterday...no, since eleven years ago...she hadn’t truly rested. Every day before dawn, she got up to turn him over, wash him, feed him, catheterize him, then went to work, returning after work to continue doing the same things. Eleven years, over four thousand days and nights, she hadn’t missed a single one.
Chen Jianguo closed his eyes, then opened them again, not feeling his legs.
Not numbness, not tingling, but feeling nothing at all, blank from the chest down, just like before the surgery.
Chen Jianguo stared at the ceiling, a strange feeling welling up inside him. Not disappointment, not fear, but a kind of emptiness, like waiting for a call that would never come. He knew nerve regeneration takes time, as Professor Mainshtan had said, days, weeks, months, growing at less than a millimeter a day, impossible to wake up and walk immediately. He understood that, he accepted that. But understanding and accepting are one thing, and when that feeling of "nothing at all" enveloped him again, his body reacted—not a response from the brain, but something deeper that he couldn’t control.
His eyes welled up, not from pain. It was because he was afraid, afraid that what the doctor said eleven years ago was true—"You may never stand up again." He feared M7 standing up was just an accident, feared Professor Mainshtan’s confidence was merely kindness, afraid all of this was true, yet afraid all of it was false.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, tears silently running down into his ears.
"Jianguo!"
Sister Li’s voice suddenly rang out, very softly, but very clearly.
Chen Jianguo didn’t turn his head, not wanting her to see him cry.
"What’s wrong? Does it hurt?" Sister Li got up, walked to the bedside, and bent down to face him. Her eyes were very red, as if she hadn’t slept well.
"It doesn’t hurt!" Chen Jianguo said, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.
"Then why are you crying?"
"It’s nothing."
Sister Li didn’t press further; she pulled a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped away his tears. Her movements were gentle, as if afraid to hurt him.
"Jianguo, just now Professor Mainshtan came by. He came at six. You weren’t awake yet, and he stood by your bed for half an hour."
Chen Jianguo did not speak.
"Before he left, he said something to me. He said—’Sister Li, tell him that the surgery is just the beginning, the real miracle is yet to come.’
Chen Jianguo closed his eyes, tears flowing again.
"He lied to me!" Chen Jianguo said.
"He didn’t lie to you."
"How can he guarantee that?"
"He didn’t guarantee it, he said ’maybe’. But Jianguo, it’s been eleven years, this is the first time a doctor has said ’maybe’. Before, all the doctors said ’impossible’. Between ’maybe’ and ’impossible’, there’s a world of difference."
Chen Jianguo opened his eyes, looking at his wife. Her eyes were very red, but she didn’t cry. She never cried in front of him. It’s been eleven years, he never saw her cry once. He knew she had cried—in the late night quiet, in the bathroom with the faucet running, when she thought he was asleep. But she never cried in front of him.
"Wife." Chen Jianguo said.
"Yes."
"Thank you for your hard work."
Sister Li paused, then smiled slightly.
"It’s not hard, not hard at all, happiness makes it easy."
At eight in the morning, Professor Mainshtan appeared in the ward right on time.
He wore a clean white gown, his hair neatly combed, holding a folder. August followed behind, carrying a black bag filled with various assessment tools.
"Good morning, Mr. Chen." Professor Mainshtan walked to the bedside, looking at Chen Jianguo’s face, "Did you sleep well?"
"Pretty well."
"Did you dream?"
Chen Jianguo thought for a moment.
"I dreamed of myself walking."
Professor Mainshtan’s expression showed no change, but August, standing at the door, noticed his hand tremble slightly.
"That’s great!" Professor Mainshtan said, "Dreams are the brain’s training, even if your legs can’t move yet, your brain is already practicing, which is a good sign."
He opened the folder, turning to the first page.
"Mr. Chen, I’m now going to conduct the first postoperative baseline assessment for you. It includes nerve function examination, sensory plane measurement, and muscle strength scoring. The entire process will take about forty minutes. It might be uncomfortable, but it won’t be very painful. If you feel unwell, let me know anytime."
"Okay!"
Professor Mainshtan took a thin needle from his pocket, starting at Chen Jianguo’s neck, testing his sensory plane bit by bit from top to bottom. This wasn’t testing the skin’s corresponding spinal segment, which was too rough, but precisely outlining the boundary where sensation disappeared.
