Chapter 5: David Was Right!
Rebecca's voice immediately attracted everyone's attention.
Foreman stopped worrying about David and instead quickly moved to the bedside:
"What did you just say?"
Rebecca's eyes, staring up at the ceiling, were completely vacant, and her voice unconsciously carried a tremor:
"I... can't... see."
The more Rebecca spoke, the more labored it became, and everyone sensed something was terribly wrong.
As expected.
The next second, Rebecca collapsed back onto the hospital bed, her mouth open, body convulsing violently in full tonic-clonic seizure.
Simultaneously, the cardiac monitor emitted a piercing alarm.
The heart rate on the display was rapidly climbing, exceeding the critical threshold of 210 beats per minute within seconds.
Before anyone could react, all three lines had flatlined, continuously scrolling across the screen.
Rebecca had gone into full cardiac arrest—she was dying!
Just as Foreman reached for the code button, David—who'd already grabbed the defibrillator paddles—decisively shoved Foreman aside and roughly tore open Rebecca's hospital gown.
He charged the defibrillator to maximum and delivered a powerful shock to her chest.
Rebecca's body arched high off the bed as the current coursed through her, then fell heavily back down.
If this were anywhere outside a hospital, the scene would've drawn uncomfortable stares.
But in David's professionally trained eyes, there was nothing remotely suggestive about it.
He just stared intently at the cardiac monitor's flatline, waiting for any sign of rhythm to return.
After several more shocks and chest compressions, accompanied by a series of rapid beeps, the heart rate on the monitor finally showed activity again.
"Jesus—"
David wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and exhaled heavily.
Only then did he release the defibrillator paddles and sink into the visitor's chair behind him.
He unconsciously glanced at Rebecca's body, which had become gaunt from illness, and allowed himself a genuine smile.
Because another day of life had just arrived.
[Successful rescue. Lifespan extended by one day. Current lifespan: 2 days, 8 hours.]
With the infusion of life energy, the symptoms caused by his brain tumor began to rapidly subside.
David felt alive again.
However, he clearly understood these were all temporary reprieves. Those symptoms would eventually return.
This was just a brief intermission.
At that moment, Foreman—who'd been pushed aside—finally reacted and erupted:
"Intern! Do you have any idea what you just did? You took a massive risk without consulting the attending physician!"
David, lounging in the chair, replied calmly:
"Didn't I save her life? Isn't a good outcome all that matters?"
Foreman's next curse died in his throat, and he instead let out a sharp scoff:
"Hmph! You got lucky this time, but luck won't always be on your side.
One mistake and you'll be kicked out of this program so fast your head will spin!"
David shrugged, unconcerned.
He could still distinguish which was more serious: possibly getting kicked out of his internship or dying from glioblastoma.
"Alright, David's intervention was textbook and completely followed ACLS protocols. You don't need to intimidate him."
Cameron stepped between them, moved forward, and pulled Rebecca's gown back into place, preserving her dignity.
Then Cameron looked at David with her striking blue eyes, as if trying to see straight through him:
"Speaking of which—how did you know she was about to code?"
David, suddenly feeling parched, glanced around, spotted a water bottle with lipstick on the rim, and took a sip before answering:
"I didn't know. I finished downstairs in clinic, wanted to come check on her, and happened to walk in at the right moment."
Cameron saw David drinking from her bottle again, a hint of color rising to her cheeks. She immediately forgot her remaining questions, snatched the bottle back, and said indignantly:
"Hey! Can't you get your own water?"
David spread his hands:
"Look, I just started as an intern. I haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet. Once I do, I'll—"
David's words were cut off by Foreman, who asked with a frown:
"Wait, you said you finished in clinic?
You didn't come up here to ask for help because you couldn't diagnose your patient?"
David looked at Foreman quizzically, then nodded:
"Yeah, after I finished with one patient, Dr. House came back to take over, so I came upstairs."
Hearing David's words, Foreman immediately shot a look at Chase, who'd just won his ten dollars.
Chase looked at David skeptically. He knew today's clinic schedule.
The patients on that list had all specifically requested appointments with House.
Their symptoms weren't ordinary—they were all zebras and diagnostic nightmares that would give even experienced physicians headaches.
That's why they'd wanted House's expertise in the first place.
After all, House hadn't held clinic hours for a full six months.
Now David was claiming he'd solved a case? Honestly, Chase didn't quite believe it.
He was more inclined to think David was exaggerating.
But before he could probe further, someone knocked on the glass door of the ICU.
It was House, who'd come up after receiving the code notification. House habitually refused to enter the patient's room and interact with patients directly.
He preferred making diagnoses in spaces without emotional complications.
So seeing House arrive, Chase suppressed his doubts for the moment and decided to ask House directly later.
David might embellish the truth, but House wouldn't.
One question would reveal everything.
Seeing the four of them exit the room, House didn't waste time and looked directly at Foreman:
"What's the situation?"
Foreman glanced at David, then reported:
"After starting the steroid treatment, the patient's condition initially improved.
But just now, she suddenly deteriorated—full body seizures and cardiac arrest."
Hearing this description, House also glanced at David.
Because a specific possibility had entered his mind—one that David had mentioned earlier.
Now he just needed a bit of evidence to support it.
House looked at Chase, who was about to speak:
"What are the patient's typical dietary habits?"
Chase was caught off guard, swallowed whatever he'd been about to say, and instead recited the information he'd gathered during his patient interview.
"Breakfast is coffee and a ham and egg sandwich, lunch is whatever the kindergarten serves, dinner is usually deli ham or pork..."
As he listened, House's eyes lit up, and he looked at David again.
Because David had mentioned another possibility besides vasculitis—neurocysticercosis!
A parasitic disease caused by tapeworm larvae that develop in undercooked pork!
Thinking this through, House interrupted Chase, who was still describing Rebecca's daily menu:
"Alright, I've heard enough. David was right—the patient has neurocysticercosis."
"That's impossible! Millions of people eat ham and pork every day. The infection rate is astronomically low!"
Cameron shook her head and immediately objected. She clearly disagreed with this diagnosis.
House had already been wrong once. The patient couldn't survive them making another mistake.
Seeing the pushback, House didn't explain but instead raised his cane and pointed it at David:
"Hotshot, you explain it."
[Support Goal: 500 PS → +2 Chapters]
[Support Goal: 10 Reviews → +1 Chapter]
Your review helps the story grow.
P2treon Soulforger (20+ chapters ahead)