Dr. Huang Jia, Associate chief physician in the Department of Thoracic Surgery at Shanghai Chest Hospital, is proficient in the minimally invasive treatment of pulmonary ground-glass nodules, ground-glass opacities, GGN, GGO, pulmonary nodules, and early-stage lung cancer. He is also skilled in the minimally invasive surgical treatment of pulmonary nodules (including solid nodules and subsolid nodules). Moreover, he excels in the comprehensive treatment of lung cancer, thymic tumors (thymoma, thymic cyst, thymic carcinoma), and mediastinal tumors.

Introduction:

A life’s calling often begins not with a shout, but with a whisper. Perhaps in a heartfelt conversation on a summer night, a flash of insight in the sterile quiet of an operating theater, or as a single, unwavering light in the midst of a blizzard on a high-altitude plateau. What feels like a twist of fate often reveals itself to be a destined path. A journey once drenched in sweat and toil becomes the clear sky in someone else’s life.

A physician’s calling is a light. Under the surgical lamps, it is the cold precision of a blade. Across the consultation desk, it is the patient whisper of reassurance. On the snowy plateau, it becomes the warmth shared over a cup of butter tea. Technology evolves, instruments are updated, but some things never change—the willingness to pause for a stranger’s pain, the commitment to breaking down the monumental act of “healing” into countless small, steadfast daily gestures.

This light does not glare, yet it is bright enough to illuminate a corner of the darkest winter. It does not clamor for attention, yet it allows the lost to hear the steady rhythm of their own heartbeat once more.

Outside, the city bustles on, while somewhere, the lights in an operating room glow once more.

The Calling of Medicine

As dawn breaks over Yiwu, the city stirs to life. On Choucheng Street, the creak of three-wheeled carts laden with goods mingles with the calls of early market vendors, composing a symphony of commerce. The air is thick with the aroma of freshly baked *Donghe* meat pancakes and the distinct, industrial scent of plastic goods spilling from storefronts—the very breath of a city pulsing with entrepreneurial energy.

This is the world Dr. Huang Jia was born into, the son of an unassuming sanitation worker and a mother who assembled small parts for local accessory workshops from their home. Though their life was modest, his family upheld a simple, powerful belief: education was everything.

“Where we’re from, you either go into business or you study,” Huang recalls. “My family chose the latter.”

His inspiration was close to home. An uncle, “a young man rarely seen without a book,” had changed his destiny by teaching himself English, eventually earning a place at university and going abroad. Later, his cousin, five years his senior, was accepted into the prestigious pharmacy program at West China University of Medical Sciences.

“I always looked up to them,” Huang says, a warm light flickering in his eyes.

In a city like Yiwu, brimming with commercial opportunities, Huang felt an odd disconnect. He smiles, remembering a childhood attempt to sell shoes by the roadside with his father. “It just didn’t work out,” he admits. That “failure” quietly paved another path, one paved with books and learning.

In his final year of high school, Huang faced a pivotal choice. “My understanding of medicine was still vague then,” he reflects, “but thinking of my uncle and cousin, it felt like the right path to follow.” His goal was modest: “I thought getting into Zhejiang University would be good enough.”

But fate had other plans for this diligent student. He scored over 30 points higher than expected on the *Gaokao*, China’s notoriously difficult national college entrance exam.

That life-defining summer, a heart-to-heart talk with his father led to a decision: Shanghai Jiao Tong University School of Medicine. It was a choice grounded in practicality, but also fueled by a young man’s budding aspiration for medicine. And so, Huang Jia walked through the gates of one of China’s top universities, ready to begin his journey.

Forging a Path - The Surgical Arena

In the autumn of 2002, Huang found himself among an elite group of 30 high-scoring students from across the country, the first cohort of independently recruited medical students at Shanghai Jiao Tong University.

Their experimental class was a radical departure from traditional medical education. Instead of studying subjects in isolation, they learned through integrated systems, breaking down and reassembling knowledge from anatomy, physiology, and more.

“We studied basic courses for two years, half a year longer than the traditional track,” Huang explains. This put them at a disadvantage when it came time to choose a clinical supervisor. While others were already specializing, Huang and his peers were still catching up. “My grades were above average, but I was still anxious about finding the right mentor,” he admits.

Back then, popular surgical fields like orthopedics and urology were the top picks for male students. Huang felt no pull toward what he called the “blood-and-guts” departments. “I definitely wouldn’t choose internal medicine,” he recalls his thinking at the time. “For a guy, surgery was the only real choice.”

A chance conversation changed his trajectory. A classmate rotating at Shanghai Chest Hospital mentioned a mentor: “Director Luo Qingquan is not only a brilliant surgeon, he has an incredible presence! And he hasn’t taken on new students yet!”

Thoracic surgery was far less glamorous then. Long, physically grueling operations deterred many. “They were all major surgeries, standing for three or four hours at a stretch. It was truly exhausting,” Huang describes. But when he speaks of Director Luo’s technique, his eyes light up. “His surgical skills absolutely commanded our respect.”

When Huang stepped into the world of thoracic surgery, he felt as if he had found a stage tailor-made for him. Qualities that had been merely adequate in medical school now blossomed. Late nights at Shanghai Chest Hospital often found only his office light still on. He lived by a simple creed: what can be done today, must be done today. He would meticulously organize the next day’s surgical orders and patient imaging, knowing that thorough preparation was the key to navigating the intense rhythm of morning rounds, procedures, and surgeries. This near-obsessive demand for excellence stemmed from a profound sense of responsibility, and even more, from an intrinsic passion for the work.

To his surprise, he discovered a natural rapport with patients. He could translate complex medical jargon into simple, accessible language, easing anxious brows. The nurses at the station often noted, “When Dr. Huang makes his rounds, there are more laughs in the wards.” Gradually, discharged patients began seeking him out specifically for follow-ups, transforming the clinical relationship into one of rare trust and friendship.

In the operating room, his learning ability was remarkable. In an era dominated by open surgery, he absorbed every detail of Director Luo Qingquan’s movements—the grip of the scalpel, the force for separating tissue, the angle of a suture. “I was the ‘copy it perfectly’ type,” he says with modesty. But everyone knew this meticulous imitation was rooted in a profound understanding of anatomy and a relentless pursuit of the surgical art.

Looking back, Huang is deeply moved. “This wasn’t just my choice; it was thoracic surgery choosing me.” In this mutual journey of discovery, he had found his life’s calling and encountered a better version of himself. The sweat shed under the surgical lights, the moments of sincere connection with patients—all became precious gifts, illuminating the path of a healer.

A Light on the Plateau: The Tibet Mission

In July 2021, Huang Jia set foot on the 3,800-meter-high plateau of Shigatse, Tibet. Severe altitude sickness hit him hard—splitting headaches, labored breathing, sleepless nights. Yet, on his third night, an emergency call roused him from his sickbed. A young Tibetan man was critically injured in a car accident, his life hanging by a thread.

“The airflow from the tracheal stump sprayed body fluid all over my face,” Huang recalls with calm detachment about that heart-pounding surgery. Still battling his own sickness, Huang precisely performed Shigatse’s first-ever emergency left pneumonectomy, innovatively suturing the ruptured vessel with mediastinal pleura—a move that stunned the Tibetan medical staff present. When the surgery ended, dawn was breaking over the snow-covered plateau, his scrubs soaked through with sweat.

This race against death became a recurring theme during his time in Tibet. Within five months, he performed or participated in over a dozen emergency surgeries with a 100% success rate. He led his team to achieve multiple “firsts” in Tibetan thoracic surgery: the first single-port segmentectomy, the first tubeless removal of a complex mediastinal tumor while preserving the patient’s spontaneous breathing. Behind every breakthrough was a solemn commitment to preserving life.

In Shigatse, Huang discovered that many Tibetan people held a deep-seated fear of surgery. Diseases like pulmonary hydatidosis were common, often plunging families into poverty. Huang brought Shanghai’s minimally invasive techniques to the plateau, allowing him to perform precise segmentectomies that avoided removing entire lobes of the lung. For young patients, this preserved more lung function, enabled faster recovery, and allowed them to return to work, safeguarding their families’ livelihood.

Notably, he introduced the tubeless technique, which allowed patients to get out of bed just two hours post-surgery and halved their hospital stays. These stories spread by word of mouth, gradually shifting local perceptions of modern medicine.

“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime,” Huang often said. He introduced the diagnostic and treatment standards of Shanghai Chest Hospital to Shigatse, establishing a systematic training framework. Days were for surgical demonstrations; nights for lesson preparation; weekends for academic salons. On the plateau, where the spirit thrived despite the scarcity of oxygen, he gave his all selflessly.

Dr. Tseten Gyel, a Tibetan doctor, was one of Huang’s most dedicated “disciples.” Six months later, Tseten Gyel was named the hospital’s Best Doctor, and his first research paper was nearing publication.

At the end of 2021, as the Shigatse People’s Hospital Thoracic Surgery Department received the “Best Department” award, Huang was packing for his return. Tibetan colleagues presented him with *hadas*—ceremonial white scarves—their songs exceptionally warm in the plateau’s cold wind: “Relative from afar, please take our blessings back to the Huangpu River…”

“On the plateau, I truly understood the meaning of a physician’s compassion and healing mission,” Huang reflects. Every surgery in the oxygen-thin air was an extreme physical test; every smile across a language barrier was a healing force that transcended ethnicity. This chapter on the snow-covered plateau tempered his medical skills and elevated his spirit.

Back in Shanghai, a new photo appeared in his office: under a brilliant blue sky, he stands in his white coat, shoulder-to-shoulder with his Tibetan colleagues.

The Surgeon and the Machine: Embracing the Future

In 2012, during a visit to Hong Kong’s Prince of Wales Hospital, Huang Jia first encountered the da Vinci robotic surgical system. The technology, as precise as artistry, immediately captivated him.

“I was probably among the first generation of surgeons born in the 80s to be exposed to robotic thoracic surgery,” Huang recalls. This experience planted the seed for his future deep dive into the field.

Returning to Shanghai, under the mentorship of Professor Luo Qingquan, Huang rapidly became a key figure in China’s robotic thoracic surgery landscape. With experience from over 400 robotic surgeries, he emerged as one of the leading thoracic surgeons of his generation. More importantly, he didn’t stop at technical mastery. He participated in developing China’s first standardized procedure for robot-assisted thoracic tumor surgery and co-authored the field’s first clinical expert consensus.

“Director Luo’s innovative spirit is admirable,” Huang notes. From four-port to single-port techniques, from traditional procedures to robot-assisted methods, his mentor was a pioneer who always stayed at the technological forefront. This courage to break boundaries deeply influenced Huang, driving his own continuous exploration.

During the early promotion of robotic surgery, Huang and his team briefly felt the technology had hit its “ceiling.” “The first-generation robots we used had limitations, with blind spots in complex surgeries,” he admits. This bottleneck forced them to ask: was it the technology itself, or the way it was being applied that needed innovation?

With the advent of the new-generation da Vinci system, these questions gradually resolved. The new system’s more compact design, flexible arms, and especially its blind-spot-free range made complex chest surgeries significantly easier.

“Now, for lung transplants and complex sleeve resections, the advantages of robotic assistance are undeniable,” Huang explains. Shorter suturing times, more precise anastomoses, faster patient recovery—these tangible gains reignited the team’s enthusiasm.

Simultaneously, Huang keenly followed the development of China’s domestic robotic systems. “The process from zero to one was truly arduous,” he sighs. Having participated in the R&D process, he understood the immense challenges in core technological breakthroughs, from hardware precision to software algorithms. “But the progress of domestic robots is exciting,” he says, expressing confidence in the future of homegrown technology.

As robotic surgery matured, Huang never lost sight of foundational research. He led his team in translational medicine studies on “liquid biopsy for lung cancer” and “new explorations in targeted therapy,” with multiple findings rewriting international standards for lung cancer diagnosis and treatment.

“Technology is the means; healing is the purpose,” Huang often says.

Standing at a new starting point, his outlook is pragmatic yet hopeful. “The rise of domestic robots marks a breakthrough in China’s high-end medical equipment,” he states. With the deep integration of 5G, AI, and robotic surgery, innovations like remote surgery and intelligent decision support are becoming possibilities.

But Huang maintains a physician’s clarity: “No matter how advanced the technology, it cannot replace the judgment, experience, and compassion of a surgeon.” In his eyes, the robot is merely a tool; the true core is always the healer’s touch. This balance between technology and humanity is the key to his steady progress amidst waves of innovation. The road ahead is long, but the future is already underfoot.

ShanghaiDoctor.cn: Do you see any similarities between surgery and music? Specifically, how do you find and maintain the right rhythm during an operation?

Dr. Huang Jia: I absolutely see a strong parallel between surgery and music. Just as music has rhythm and timing, a surgical procedure has its own cadence. In the operating room, every step must be executed with precision; there is no room for superfluous movements. For example, when performing a complex surgery, the fastest approach is the one with no wasted motion. Some surgeons might need constant readjustments, but we strive to complete the objective in one fluid, seamless motion. That feeling of fluidity and efficiency is much like performing a perfect piece of music.

ShanghaiDoctor.cn:As a surgeon, what role do you believe mental fortitude plays in your work? And how do you cultivate this quality in younger doctors?

Dr. Huang Jia: Mental fortitude is absolutely critical for a surgeon. We are dealing with human life on the operating table, where even the smallest mistake can have severe consequences. Therefore, we must remain calm, focused, and possess a strong ability to perform under pressure.

When it comes to training younger doctors, I believe the most important thing is hands-on practice and accumulating experience. In my day, we learned by crowding around the senior surgeon, trying to get a glimpse of the procedure. Even if you could barely see, you cherished that opportunity. While video learning is common now, I believe being present in the operating theater is still irreplaceable.

I also tell them that thorough pre-operative preparation is vital. A deep understanding of the patient’s underlying conditions and anatomy lays a solid foundation for success. During the operation, you must be bold yet meticulous, and post-operative care must be managed with precision. All of this requires immense psychological strength to support it. 

ShanghaiDoctor.cn:In your daily practice, how do you communicate effectively with your patients? What strategies can improve the quality of doctor-patient communication?

Dr. Huang Jia: Communication with patients is paramount. First, we must respect our patients and listen patiently to their needs and concerns. Second, we need to explain the condition and treatment plan in plain language, avoiding excessive medical jargon. Furthermore, I make it a point to explain the surgical risks and potential complications in detail, ensuring they have a complete picture. This not only builds the patient’s trust but also helps prevent misunderstandings. Finally, I make sure to follow up regularly on their recovery and answer any questions they may have, ensuring they receive the best possible care. 

ShanghaiDoctor.cn: Have you seen changes in the spectrum of diseases in recent years?

Dr. Huang Jia: Yes, the landscape of disease has changed significantly in recent years, especially with lung cancer. We’re diagnosing far more patients at an early stage, primarily thanks to the popularization of health screenings and advancements in imaging technology. 

When I first started at the chest hospital, we mostly encountered large tumors. These patients were often already in the mid-to-late stages, making surgery incredibly difficult. Back then, screenings were mainly chest X-rays, which weren’t as widespread or sensitive, so many cases were discovered late. 

But now, with the rise of minimally invasive procedures like VATS and new medical therapies, we can detect and treat lung cancer much earlier. The detection rate of small nodules and early-stage lung cancer has increased, leading to a significant improvement in patient survival rates. 

Additionally, we can now use medical therapies to shrink tumors *before* surgery. This approach not only reduces the difficulty of the operation but also improves its success rate. Overall, with technological and medical advancements, treatment outcomes and patient survival have improved dramatically.

ShanghaiDoctor.cn: My final question: how can we better promote public education on cancer prevention and treatment? 

Dr. Huang Jia: Public health education on cancer prevention is incredibly important. First, we need to disseminate scientific knowledge through multiple channels—hospital informational posters, social media, and health seminars, to name a few. Second, we must use simple, clear language that the general public can easily understand. For instance, we can explain common early symptoms of cancer and how to perform self-examinations. We can also invite experts to give online or offline lectures to answer public questions directly. 

Most importantly, we must emphasize prevention, encouraging everyone to adopt healthy lifestyles and undergo regular check-ups. Through these efforts, we can raise public awareness and ultimately lower cancer incidence rates.