Chapter 542 Oh, It's Martin
"Sure thing, take a lie-down," the doctor quickly responded with an amiable smile, having caught on that his leave request originated here. "I'll get your prescription ready."
Alan found a seat beside the Director of PR and struck up a conversation.
Patricia walked over to the doctor and, observing the prescriptions on his computer screen, frowned. "Doctor, is this the treatment he usually receives?" she asked.
"Yes, his condition is quite severe, so the dosage is substantial," the doctor said, unaware of Patricia's medical background.
"One 250ml bottle of glucose, two 250ml bottles of saline," Patricia read aloud.
The doctor looked puzzled.
"Doctor, your practice needs improvement." Patricia teased with a smile. "No wonder our Director hasn't recovered. He's running a high fever; you should at least include an antipyretic and some antibiotics. I've never heard of treating illness with just glucose and saline."
"You seem quite knowledgeable, Miss," the doctor said, astonished.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Patricia said, grinning widely. "I'm a Cardiothoracic Surgery Professor at Ivara City Hospital. Although I'm not an internist, I do know a thing or two about viral fevers."
The doctor's hand trembled so violently at this revelation that he nearly dropped his mouse, and the Director of PR, unable to maintain his composure, let a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.
At this juncture, there was no way to bluff through it, and the doctor had no choice but to follow the standard procedures.
He had intended to prescribe a minimal dosage to lessen any potential harm.
"Antipyretics should be dosed according to body weight," Patricia chimed in again as the doctor was issuing the prescription. "Don't you think your dosage is a bit low? The director is an adult; by the looks of it, he weighs at least 150 pounds. That dosage seems more fit for a child."
With no other option, the doctor begrudgingly increased the dosage of the fever-reducing medication and, with shaky hands, handed the prescription to the nurse.
An occasional dose of antibiotics for a healthy individual isn't a big deal. However, giving fever-reducing medication to a healthy person could spell disaster if not handled properly.
The situation would be grave if the Director of PR had an incident in his clinic.
"No, no. He's not sick; we can't medicate blindly," the doctor said, stopping the nurse at the last second,
The clinic fell silent. Fortunately, it wasn't busy at the time.
The Director of PR, his lips trembling, asked, "Doctor, do you realize what you're saying?"
The doctor, mustering his courage, replied, "I'm sorry, it's not that I won't help you, but I can't risk my career. A healthy person should not take fever-reducing medication; it could lead to serious consequences. If something happens to you, closing the clinic is a minor issue, but losing my medical license is a big problem."
"What could happen?" the Director of PR asked in panic, not understanding the gravity of the situation.
"Healthy people can get poisoned from misusing fever-reducing meds, causing damage to the body, especially to vital organs like the liver and kidneys. I can't just give it to you," the doctor explained.
Realizing the severity, the Director of PR dared not say another word. Patricia and Alan looked on expressionlessly.
Feeling the weight of their gazes, he hung his head guiltily. "Patricia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to deceive you."
Patricia gave him a cold look and turned to leave. Alan followed suit.
Agitated, the Director of PR took off his glasses, unsure of what to do next.
Patricia and Alan ran around all day, visiting one place after another. By the time they returned to the office, it was already dark. Both were exhausted.
Patricia had thought James would have left, but to her surprise, when she got back to her office, she found him at the coffee table, sifting through folders of paperwork.
To the left were the unprocessed ones. To the right, the stack of completed files was sizable. Only a few remained on the left. A tall pile sat on the right.
The silver light enveloped him, and for a moment, Patricia superimposed him with Martin. The feeling was so intense, it jolted her.
Seeing him, her weariness vanished, and without thinking, she called out, "Martin."
At the same time, Alan spoke up, "Boss."
Patricia jerked around to look at Alan and caught him staring at James, his gaze almost piercing through him as if seeing someone else.
A sour ache enveloped her chest. Her nose tingled with acidity. Her eyes reddened slightly. Her vision gradually blurred. She wasn't the only one grappling with this delusion; even Alan felt the same.
James, unflustered by the name that escaped their lips, gracefully closed the folder he was browsing and turned to them. "You're back. How did it go?"
Patricia moved to sit beside him, reaching out to caress his face, only for him to dodge her touch.
"Patricia, please, show some self-respect," he said.
The words 'self-respect' hit Patricia hard, snapping her back to reality.
Patricia looked down, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, it's just... you two look so much alike. For a moment, I thought you were him again," she confessed, her voice heavy with emotion.
James, however, seemed indifferent to the 'him' she mentioned. His voice was cold as he replied, "The dead are gone, and the past is the past. You shouldn't dwell on it. You've got to look forward."
"Easier said than done," Patricia said. "You don't understand. When something's etched into your bones, forgetting requires more than just shedding skin."
A deep sorrow briefly flitted through James' eyes, almost escaping its confines. He fixed his gaze on Patricia, his resolve wavering, nearly pulling her into an embrace, but ultimately resisting the impulse.
"The world doesn't stop for anyone. Time heals all wounds," he said.
"You don't get it... just don't," Patricia whispered, her voice too faint.
Taking a deep breath, she shifted the conversation.
"Enough of this. Let's talk business. Alan and I spent the whole day visiting the contacts you mentioned. They didn't expect me to show up personally; they were too flustered to hide anything, their lies riddled with inconsistencies. It hardly took any effort to see right through them.
"That one guy? His father-in-law just got a routine angioplasty; he's in the hospital for a week every year and doesn't need round-the-clock care. Another one just twisted his ankle—far from a fracture, there wasn't even soft tissue damage. And someone else's car? It turned out it had been fixed long ago. Talk about timing; the repair shop called to pick up his car just as we arrived. The situation with another director was indeed genuine. She was a single mother, and her child fell ill. With no one to take care of the kid, she had no choice but to tend to her child herself."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
