"Director Chen, a patient with a severed finger has arrived!" Xiaolin rushed into the office and called out.
Chen Cang was startled and hurriedly got up and walked out, "What happened?"
Chen Cang saw a middle-aged man, over fifty years old, holding a wad of tissue wrapped around his finger, the blood had dyed the tissue red, a thick clump of red bloodstains.
Upon seeing Chen Cang, the man grinned with a smile, "Doctor!"
Chen Cang nodded, "What happened?"
The man, baring his teeth in pain, said, "My finger got crushed, can you see what can be done about it?"
The man looked travel-worn with unkempt dirt-streaked hair, and his clothes were somewhat dirty as well.
At this moment, a woman of similar age, who had completed the paperwork, ran over, looking anxiously at Chen Cang, "Doctor, my husband's fingertip was crushed, can you see if it can be reattached?"
