Chapter 236 How Could This Happen?
Indeed, this matter was originally the fault of modern medicine. Even if Nathaniel cured the patient, it wouldn't have any positive impact on modern medicine.
However, after James's mockery, the nature of the situation changes. Nathaniel became the righteous party. Once he cured the patient, not only would it be a slap in James's face, but it would also worsen the audience's impression of traditional Chinese medicine and increase public trust in modern medicine.
Of course, by "cure," it means being able to control the patient's convulsions promptly. After all, epilepsy is not a minor illness like a cold or fever; it requires some time to treat.
Nathaniel wasn't entirely confident about completely curing the patient's epilepsy, but controlling the patient's condition in a short time was not hard for him.
Hearing James's words, Nathaniel started to think he was just an idiot.
Initially, Nathaniel was quite wary of James because James's professional knowledge was genuinely impressive, even making Nathaniel feel inferior. However, given the current situation, Nathaniel completely dismissed his wariness.
Thinking of this, Nathaniel's previously gloomy mood improved.
'Just a little longer,' he thought, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, 'and you'll be begging for forgiveness.'
He deliberately delayed administering a sedative, opting instead for a more theatrical display of physical manipulation. His hands, guided by years of experience, worked their magic, and within seconds, the patient's convulsions subsided. It took a few more minutes, but eventually, the man lay still, his breathing ragged but steady. The foaming had stopped, and he was even able to speak, albeit weakly.
"Doctor," he rasped, his voice hoarse, "what's wrong with me? Please, help me."
It was clear from his terrified expression and his desperate grip on Nathaniel's hand that this was his first experience with such a terrifying ailment.
Nathaniel, relishing the man's fear and desperation, offered a reassuring smile. "Take it easy," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "As long as you follow my instructions, you'll be fine. But you must promise me you'll go to a proper hospital, not one of those... traditional medicine clinics. Do you understand? You have epilepsy, a serious condition that can only be treated with the most advanced modern medical technology."
"Epilepsy?" The patient's eyes widened in terror. "But I don't have epilepsy! How could I? I just haven't been sleeping well! That's all!" His grip on Nathaniel's hand tightened, his fingernails pressing into the doctor's skin.
Nathaniel winced, suppressing a curse. If not for the cameras, for the audience hanging on his every word, he would have shoved the man away.
"Calm yourself," he said, forcing a smile. "It's alright. Your condition isn't that serious. I can treat it easily. But you must let go of my hand."
"I will, I will!" The patient, his mind racing, suddenly thought of something else. "Doctor," he asked, his voice trembling, "how much will the treatment cost?"
His threadbare clothing, his calloused hands, spoke of a life of hardship. He was likely the sole breadwinner of his family, and the thought of a costly medical bill filled him with dread.
Nathaniel, his eyes betraying a flicker of contempt, maintained his facade of benevolent concern. "Don't worry yourself about that," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "The treatment won't cost you a penny."
The patient, too naive, too desperate to notice the calculated glint in Nathaniel's eyes, breathed a sigh of relief.
The seizures, though less frequent, hadn't completely stopped. The patient's body would still jerk spasmodically, his face contorting in pain.
Nathaniel, following the established protocol for treating epilepsy, directed the man to lie down and relax.
The modern medical team, their movements practiced and efficient, sprang into action. They had come prepared, their arsenal of advanced medical equipment on full display. Within minutes, they had the patient hooked up to a battery of machines, his veins flowing with a cocktail of anti-seizure medication.
The effect was undeniable. The patient's contorted features relaxed, his breathing slowed, and the violent tremors subsided until, finally, he lay still.
"There!" Ezekiel, unable to contain his relief, exclaimed, his face flushed with triumph. He had been entrusted with the patient's care, and the pressure had been immense. Now, thanks to Nathaniel's intervention, the crisis had been averted.
"Incredible! Such a severe case, cured in a matter of minutes! modern medicine is truly remarkable!"
"As expected of Dr. Worthington! He makes it look so easy!"
"This is why you always go to a real doctor, not some quack peddling herbs and needles!"
Nathaniel, basking in the praise, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He cleared his throat, relishing the attention. "Epilepsy is a serious condition," he said, his voice amplified by the microphone, "but it is not insurmountable. With the right treatment, it can be managed. And that, my friends, is the beauty of modern medicine."
He paused, letting his words sink in, then turned his gaze towards James, his smile turning predatory. "Well, James," he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction, "it seems I've cured the patient. Anything you'd like to say?"
"Cured?" James replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Still clinging to your delusions, I see." Nathaniel chuckled, shaking his head. "Typical."
But before he could continue his tirade, a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, silencing the crowd.
Nathaniel, his blood turning to ice, whirled around.
The epileptic patient, his face contorted in agony, was no longer lying passively on the bed. He was thrashing violently, his body contorting at unnatural angles, foam spewing from his mouth and nose. He had fallen off the bed, his limbs flailing wildly as he clawed at his throat, his cries barely audible over the gasps and gurgles escaping his lips.
"Help me..." he choked out, his voice a strangled whisper. "It hurts... so much..."
The crowd, their cheers replaced by gasps of horror, watched in stunned silence.
Nathaniel, his face ashen, stared in disbelief.
"How... how is this possible?" he stammered, his composure shattered.
The modern practitioners, their faces mirroring Nathaniel's shock and confusion, could only stare helplessly as the situation spiraled out of control.
Curtis, his initial relief replaced by a wave of shock, felt overwhelmed and stunned, lost in thought about what to do next..
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