Chapter 51: Young Patient with Deep Vein Thrombosis
After speaking, David left without looking back, not at all worried about someone shooting him in the back.
Winston wouldn't be that petty.
And that was indeed the case.
Winston just quietly watched David's composure, which didn't seem fabricated at all, and smiled again.
The last time he saw someone so unshakeable was probably John Wick.
This David Wells indeed had the potential to become a top-tier assassin. As for fainting at the sight of corpses?
That clumsy performance might fool ordinary people, but it wouldn't fool him, Winston.
He believed that even if ten thousand people died in front of David, this guy wouldn't even blink.
Because what he saw in those eyes was confidence, coldness, and ruthlessness.
Such a person was destined not to die quietly like this.
He believed the last sentence David said: a change would come soon.
As for whether David would talk after leaving here, Winston wasn't worried at all.
After leaving, who would believe the treasonous words David spoke?
A newly arrived intern physician claiming that the Continental Hotel's most respected manager was planning rebellion? Who would believe it? Who would dare to believe it?
Moreover, in this Continental Hotel, if David dared to reveal a single word to the High Table, he would be killed by a bullet from an unknown direction.
In this Hotel that he had cultivated for decades, Winston had absolute confidence.
"David Wells... Hehe, interesting. Find out who this David Wells has been in contact with recently."
...
Returning to his room, David threw himself onto the plush king-sized bed.
He didn't want to move at all right now.
The confrontation with Winston just now could be described as walking on a razor's edge—if he had been even slightly careless, he wouldn't have been able to walk out of that underground lounge.
The charge would have been instigating Harry to assassinate the High Table's representative from the Tarasov crime family.
Fortunately, he understood what Winston needed, and he also demonstrated to Winston the value he possessed.
Therefore, to survive, he had to let Winston see his actions.
So, let's start by helping McCall strike the Russian mob's operations in this area.
But before that, David needed rest—substantial rest.
That night, David not only took painkillers but also sleeping pills, and only then did he manage to fall asleep.
David clearly understood that his body was rapidly deteriorating, even though he still had 14 days to live according to the system.
But the system had never said that he could live healthily for 14 days.
After all, lying in a hospital bed hooked up to various life-support machines, barely clinging to existence for 14 days, was also technically living.
The next day.
David, aching all over, opened his eyes. In his current state, it was too difficult to help McCall strike against the Russian mob.
He had to return to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital first to save someone and restore a brief period of health.
If tonight's operation went smoothly, taking down the Russian mob's nightclub with McCall could rescue many innocent girls.
By then, the rapid deterioration of his body should improve significantly.
As for now... David could only give himself an injection of epinephrine.
Epinephrine, used in conjunction with painkillers, could allow him to temporarily ignore the abnormalities in his body.
Soon, David, who appeared energetic on the surface, reappeared at the hospital.
He didn't go to the diagnostics department as usual, but instead headed to the emergency room.
At the same time, he prayed that there would be a patient in the emergency room that he could save.
Fortunately, David spotted an unexpected person here—Dr. Gregory House.
And typically, when House wasn't in his office or the diagnostics department, it meant there was a difficult and complex case here that interested him.
That is, those potentially fatal cases.
House, sitting on a waiting room chair pretending to read a newspaper, didn't notice David approaching. He was listening intently to the ER doctor's diagnosis being delivered to the family.
"...Your mother has symptoms of a pulmonary embolism—a blood clot is blocking her lungs, preventing oxygen delivery.
According to my diagnosis, this is deep vein thrombosis. Simply put, there's a substantial blood clot somewhere in your mother's body.
And she also has severe psychiatric symptoms, which are related to deep vein thrombosis, and also related to chronic alcohol abuse..."
The teenage boy who had been caring for his mother quickly protested:
"But my mother doesn't drink heavily! I only gave her a little vodka to calm her down when she was agitated."
The ER doctor obviously didn't believe this:
"Yeah? She doesn't find alcohol on her own? Trust me, she has alcohol dependency."
Hearing this, House could no longer restrain himself. He folded the newspaper and interrupted sarcastically:
"I'm sure this doctor is a good doctor, because he definitely performed an esophageal examination and a blood alcohol test before diagnosing your mother as an alcoholic.
Such a thorough doctor wouldn't just guess wildly—he must be absolutely certain to make that diagnosis."
When the ER doctor heard these words, his face immediately went pale, then flushed red.
His diagnosis of the patient as an alcoholic was indeed based purely on assumption, without any actual evidence.
Now, what House said struck right at his vulnerability.
More importantly, House's position at the hospital was far above his, which made it impossible for him to even attempt a rebuttal.
He could only scoff and say sarcastically:
"Dr. House, I'm thrilled to ask for your opinion on this case. It seems you're very interested in it."
House didn't acknowledge the ER doctor's sarcasm:
"What? What case? Didn't Dr. Nolan already make his diagnosis? Just send her home.
As for the fact that it might kill her later—maybe she snuck more vodka, causing circulation problems?"
The boy beside them immediately became anxious when he heard House's words:
"What exactly is going on? Who are you? What's wrong with my mother?"
Just as the boy was asking, a voice came from behind him:
"He's Dr. Gregory House, the best diagnostician in our hospital.
Your mother's condition obviously requires further hospitalization for observation and testing.
Oh, by the way, I'm Dr. David Wells, an intern physician.
Currently assisting Dr. House. Nice to meet you."
After the boy turned around and saw the personable David, the anxious expression on his face eased slightly.
David appeared far more approachable than these two doctors, and this positive first impression immediately gave the boy a sense of trust.
So even though David was just an intern, the boy was willing to communicate directly with him:
"Is my mother's condition very serious?"
"Precisely because it's unclear, she needs to be hospitalized for observation and testing. By the way, are you an only child?"
"Yes."
"Then your mother must still be relatively young—35, maybe 37? Did she have any history of deep vein thrombosis before?"
"She's 38. She was completely normal before this—no medical history of anything like this."
"Understood. Go to admissions at the front desk to handle the paperwork. We'll take good care of your mother."
After sending the boy away, David took the initiative to say to House:
"Dr. House, should I arrange for her admission now?
Come to think of it, she's twenty years younger than the typical deep vein thrombosis patient."
Seeing that he didn't even need to speak and David had already arranged everything efficiently, this was the first time House experienced what it felt like to have competent help.
In response, House nodded with genuine satisfaction:
"Yeah. After you arrange it, come to the diagnostics conference room for a differential.
I looked at this patient's chart earlier—it's not as simple as just venous thrombosis.
Dr. Nolan, if you're interested, you can also sit in and observe."
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