Some Rejoice, Some Grieve: For Whom Do We Study Medicine and Toil?

On the second day of the Lunar New Year, when relatives and friends were exchanging New Year greetings by phone, I was shocked to learn that a former classmate had passed away in August 2020 at a hospital in Wuhan after failing to respond to emergency rescue for an "unexplained viral fever." My heart was filled with grief. I heard that two other medical-school classmates working in Wuhan had rushed over at the time and participated in treating this friend, but to no avail; the illness progressed rapidly, and within just two or three days he was gone. At least they did what they could; I, by contrast, only learned of this half a year after his death, and felt quite guilty about it.

I have rescued many people in my career, yet I could not rescue my own classmate, and this has left me deeply melancholy since hearing the news. About five or six years ago, I met this old classmate once in my hometown; we caught up on our long separation and talked about our respective life plans. At the time he was working as a community police officer in my hometown; he said he hoped to serve ten years on the police force, then switch to become a lawyer, practice law for ten years, then go into business for ten years, earn some retirement money, and return to his hometown to spread legal knowledge.

He lamented that China's rule of law was still weak, that in grassroots society the phenomenon of man overriding the law was widespread, and so he aspired to contribute to advancing China's legal construction. This is a common trait of our generation, those born in the 1970s: we are all a bit idealistic, hoping to do practical work that pushes society forward. This is especially true after we become parents, because we do not want our children still living in a social environment we consider less than ideal.

The scholars of Huanggang share a common trait: diligence and self-discipline, especially among the Huanggang people of my era. We created a legend in Chinese education, with competition results and college entrance exam scores second to none in China, even ranking among the best globally. This is related to our teachers' contributions, but also to the excellent study atmosphere of the place and the students' hard work and lofty ideals.

Huanggang has produced countless famous people; its cultural atmosphere is unique in China, and it has no lack of people driven to forge ahead. Huanggang people are not only eager to learn and improve, but most are also determined to improve society. To realize his life ideal, my old classmate studied for and passed the bar exam in his spare time—quite a feat of perseverance for a middle-aged person. About two years ago when I called him, he had already switched to practicing law. I greatly admired his ability to put words into action; it is just a pity that such a fine classmate has now, before accomplishing his mission, "died before leaving the camp, often bringing tears to the eyes of old friends."

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, a fine drizzle fell over Beijing. My wife and I walked in the rain, and I kept recalling every little detail of my old classmate's life, with little joy to be had. Too many people in our society are of the "mind your own business" type; people with his ideal of "caring for all under heaven" are rare, and his loss is truly regrettable.

I have another classmate in Australia who has been quietly funding my relief efforts for impoverished patients. Last year the COVID-19 shock caused everyone's income to drop sharply, so I asked this classmate in Australia to stop his support and keep the money to care for himself and his family. He refused, saying that in middle age we ought to have lived clearly, knowing which things are truly worth doing, and once we have identified them we must persevere to the end.

I feel warmed to have two such classmates. Without them, I would inevitably feel lonely, like Don Quixote, battling windmills alone—except that now I have lost one of them.

People like us are often ridiculed in real life; those around us mostly think we are naive and laughable, hopelessly silly, and find the goals we set for our lives absurd. So when we have one or two kindred spirits, we cherish them immensely. The pain of losing such a kindred spirit is truly beyond words. These past few days, whenever I have had a free moment and thought of him, tears have unbidden moistened my eyes.

To be honest, the pandemic has increased the risk and difficulty of doctors' work, and at the end of last year a series of medical-dispute and doctor-assault incidents emerged; for a while I was somewhat depressed. Together with a few other equally discouraged doctor friends, I thought about finding some new way out, reducing the clinical workload and trying to treat only a small number of friendly patients. At the end of last year I had planned to spend this year continuing to write medical popular-science pieces while doing some business to support my family. But when news of my classmate's fatal illness arrived, I felt that those of us who study medicine still should not flee or shrink back just because the practice environment is too harsh.

China's practice environment has indeed been terrible these years; doctors are frequently harmed by patients or their families. Last year in Loudi, Hunan, there even occurred a vicious assault in which a village doctor who had long treated a needy neighbor's family for free was ultimately murdered by that very neighbor over dissatisfaction with the treatment outcome. To say such things have no effect on the medical profession would be impossible.

Chinese doctors are remarkably tolerant; up to now we have only seen news of doctors being harmed or killed by troublemakers, never news of troublemakers being harmed or killed by doctors. I am lucky that among my patients there are no troublemakers. If someone tries to come and cause trouble with me in the future, I might become the first doctor to kill a troublemaker. To stop this unhealthy trend, doctors need to stand up and fight back.

When I write popular-science pieces on my official account, I also periodically face online harassment from strangers. I used to respond in silence, but this year I do not plan to tolerate this online violence as before. From now on, if anyone dares to carry out online violence against me from the shadows, I will expose them on my official account, let everyone doxx them, and make these people pay the price. This is a method another official-account author told me about; he said that after adopting it, the vicious, cursing trolls on his account decreased considerably. Because these people are despicable and selfish, and very afraid of paying a price.

Whether studying and practicing medicine or doing medical popular science, we inevitably touch on sensitive issues, and there will always be some who disregard the moral bottom line everyone should observe and use violence against doctors. We need open, upright, and forceful self-protection, not being cowed by these people.

The world needs doctors. Not only do others need doctors, we ourselves and our relatives and friends need doctors too. If no one becomes a doctor, a massive humanitarian disaster will ensue. The public also needs to understand and appreciate the special nature of medical work. Many doctor friends tell me they hope I keep doing popular science to promote public understanding of medicine. Because each of us encounters, at work, large numbers of patients who, not understanding doctors' work, either speak to us abusively or inflict violence.

But more importantly, I know that many patients' families also need such popular science. Over these years many cancer patients and their families have benefited more or less from my popular-science articles. Some have solved practical problems by reading my articles; some have moved away from unhealthy lifestyles and dietary habits; others have gained inner peace. With these effects, I should persevere—no matter how much leisure time it costs, no matter how many malicious attacks I encounter along the way, I will persevere. I am someone who does not fear even power, who dares to risk the world's disapproval and say what many dare not; how could I fear a few cowards who hide in the shadows and snipe at me?

The economist Marshall said that people are first self-interested, and in the process of pursuing self-interest gradually move toward altruism; many people, in creating wealth, also help others. I do not know what others' original motivation for studying medicine was; my own was for my family's sake, but in helping my family I also helped others, which confirms Marshall's view.

In this world there are always some people for whom we are willing to do something. For whom do we study medicine? For whom do we toil? Perhaps at first it was for these people we care about. But gradually it extends to more strangers, to the public at large—not merely to earn a living.