Chapter 484 What Are You Capable Of?
As all eyes turned toward Edith blocking James's path, the atmosphere tensed immediately.
"Mrs. Williams, I understand your desire to bring him in to treat the patient—concern makes us act rashly," Edith said.
"But today, the patient has already endured several ineffective treatments, and her condition has deteriorated significantly. At this point, we can't afford to waste more time on futile efforts."
Her expression seemed genuinely concerned as she advised Acacia, before turning a disdainful gaze toward James. "This young doctor—whom none of us have met or are familiar with—what qualifications does he have to treat the patient? Your hasty decision to let him treat her could potentially worsen her condition."
"Did you train under Bryan, Mr. Powell, Brooke, or study at any internationally renowned medical school?" she challenged. "If not, where does your confidence come from that you can definitely cure the patient?"
She and her team had rushed here, thoroughly examined Riley, and had just prepared a treatment plan when James swooped in to take away their final treatment opportunity of the day.
Plus, the way Acacia kept addressing him as "Mr. Williams" with such respect—more than she showed Edith—left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"I even question whether he has a medical license. If something goes wrong, who will take responsibility?" Edith continued.
"You're treating him like he's Bryan or Dr. Fields—those miracle workers who even know the lost acupuncture techniques of the Soul Augmentation Technique."
"Maybe he thinks he's the medical prodigy Brooke, who at fifteen was already performing C-sections on classmates."
Many doctors present shared strong doubts about James. Beyond the fact that James didn't look remotely like a doctor, they resented that this final precious treatment opportunity might be hijacked by someone they'd never heard of.
Faced with Edith's questioning, James smiled faintly. He stopped Acacia from explaining and looked at Edith calmly. "I haven't trained under Brooke or Bryan, nor have I studied at any prestigious medical schools."
His tone remained even. "I'm just an ordinary doctor."
"Then you still have the nerve to claim you can cure the patient?" Edith cut James off. "When so many experts here are helpless, what makes you so confident? You're just seeking attention. You're deceiving Mrs. Williams, and essentially committing murder against the patient."
Edith continued staring at James. "This young man hasn't had systematic medical training and comes empty-handed. Letting him in would be gambling with the patient's life."
The group of doctors nodded in agreement. They had come to treat Riley with not just adequate personnel but also medical equipment—even frozen blood samples—essentially a mobile medical unit.
James, however, carried nothing, making his claim to be a doctor completely unconvincing.
Several attractive female doctors looked at James with contempt and disdain, thinking him arrogant beyond reason. Acacia and Ron frowned slightly, not expecting Edith's team to obstruct James.
James smiled. "Because I haven't trained under Bryan or studied at medical school, I can't treat patients?"
"Of course you can, but only if you're a medical genius," Edith retorted. "If you think you're a genius, then prove it."
She looked at James challengingly. "If you can't, stop deceiving Mrs. Williams and interfering with our treatment. We've prepared the optimal treatment plan that will definitely help the patient recover."
She pointed to their collaboratively developed plan on the table. "Would you like to see it?"
She figured James must be someone recommended by some influential person, and she planned to use him to showcase her team's expertise.
"See it? That won't be necessary." James had initially wanted to ignore Edith out of respect for her being Daryl's granddaughter, but after her repeated provocations, his patience wore thin.
"If I'm not mistaken, your treatment plan involves intravenous mannitol, dexamethasone, citicoline, and gangliosides, combined with hyperbaric oxygen therapy and neurological nutritional support," he stated coolly.
"Objective: reduce intracranial pressure, alleviate cerebral edema, and promote nerve cell repair and regeneration."
James's gaze sharpened. "Primarily targeting hypoxic encephalopathy and diffuse axonal injury."
"How do you know our treatment plan?" The moment she spoke, Edith's expression changed dramatically. She stared at James in shock, not understanding how he knew their plan.
She wanted to accuse him of sneaking a peek, but James had just arrived in the hall and hadn't even seen the medical records.
"Not only do I know your plan, I can also determine that your treatment will proceed in three phases." James stepped forward, continuing to stare down Edith.
"Phase one: primarily neuroprotective treatment, using neuroprotective agents and antioxidants to maintain cerebral perfusion and neuronal survival.
"Phase two: nutritional support and rehabilitation intervention, maintaining basic physiological functions through parenteral nutrition, physical therapy, and occupational therapy.
"Phase three: neuromodulation and functional reconstruction, using neuromodulatory drugs and electrical stimulation therapy to promote neural network reorganization and consciousness recovery."
"Your method is decent, but it only maintains stable vital signs without much confidence in the patient's awakening..." James's tone turned mocking. "In other words, you're just making a vegetative patient stronger, not bringing her back to consciousness."
Edith's face turned pale as she clutched her treatment plan. "Impossible. This is impossible. How could you possibly guess this?"
Her colleagues froze, their mouths opening and closing as if wanting to speak but ultimately remaining silent.
"Let me tell you one more thing." James looked at Edith and spoke calmly, "This plan has definitely been tried by Bryan and others, but with minimal effect—just routine support."
Acacia nodded. "That's right. Mr. Powell tried this approach twice, but the effects were slow, so he rejected it."
Edith's face instantly flushed red with shame.
"You've studied medicine for so long, yet you haven't learned humility, only how to arrogantly question others." James didn't stop there.
Scanning the room, he continued to put the most vocal doctors in their place.
"Should I mention how this doctor suffers sleepless nights from chronic gastritis pain?"
"Or point out how this young lady's herniated lumbar disc makes sitting for long periods unbearable?"
"Or perhaps remind this gentleman that the slight tremor in his hands already indicates early Parkinson's symptoms?"
"Or that this woman's hyperhidrosis actually stems from autonomic nervous system dysfunction following childhood trauma?"
"Or perhaps..." James fixed Edith with a penetrating gaze. "Tell everyone how your social anxiety disorder is affecting your clinical judgment, Edith?"
The room fell utterly silent.
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