"Did those Mexican bastards hurt you?" David asked, looking Wayne up and down with an expression of disbelief.
After living on the streets for these past few years, they understood all too well the terror of the Latino gangs.
These gangs, formed by drug dealers, were already extremely brutal in their places of origin like Mexico and Colombia, and they brought that same brutality to America.
Compared to them, America's local gangs seemed almost like gentlemen.
Wayne spread his arms and spun around, smiling as he said:
"Do I need to take off my clothes for an inspection?"
Then his expression turned serious, and he shook his head:
"Ahem... I need to get $20,000 within a week, or things won't look good."
Hearing this, Mike and David both gasped, their faces filled with disbelief.
Mike gritted his teeth and said:
"Didn't Old John only owe a few thousand? Why are they making you pay $20,000!?"
David shook his head:
"I knew it... I knew it... Those Mexican bastards wouldn't just let you off so easily..."
Wayne asked:
"Brothers, do you have any jobs that pay quickly?"
Mike and David exchanged a glance, smiling bitterly:
"If there were jobs like that, would I still be living on the streets with my uncle? But... I used to have a friend who's been in the bronze scrap business these past few years, making tens of thousands a year..."
In recent years, the price of bronze materials had skyrocketed, and tombstones in cemeteries were often decorated with bronze plaques and vases.
Mike's friend specialized in grave robbing and had made a small fortune.
Wayne shook his head.
This business required expertise first, and secondly, you needed large quantities. It would be difficult to steal $20,000 worth of bronze materials within a week.
Moreover, the cemetery guards around Seattle were very strict, and you might get caught before even stealing anything.
Given Wayne's current physical condition, it really wasn't feasible.
Just then, a violent coughing fit came from inside the tent, followed by the sound of a cup hitting the ground.
The three quickly opened the tent to find Mike's uncle Raymond with his mouth wide open, hands clutching his throat, struggling desperately.
"Uncle!" Mike cried out in distress, fumbling to grab Raymond's hands, "What's wrong!?"
Seeing his condition, Wayne's [General Practitioner (Intermediate)] skill suddenly activated, and a series of fragmented memories about clinical medicine flooded his mind.
This knowledge was messy and somewhat disjointed, clearly indicating that the original owner hadn't been very diligent in his medical studies.
But it was enough for the current situation.
A symptom name suddenly surfaced in Wayne's mind, and he quickly said:
"He's choking! Quick, help him stand up!"
Mike and David hurriedly helped Raymond to his feet, while Wayne moved behind him, wrapping his arms around Raymond's waist. He made a fist with one hand, placing the thumb side between Raymond's ribcage and navel, then covered the fist with his other hand and quickly thrust upward into Raymond's abdomen.
The Heimlich maneuver.
Sure enough, after Wayne applied forceful thrusts over a dozen times, Old Raymond let out a "whoosh" sound, and a meatball shot out of his mouth, landing on the floor.
"Huff... huff... huff..." Old Raymond gasped for breath, trembling as he spoke, "God, I almost suffocated..."
Mike quickly asked:
"Raymond, were you choking? God, I thought it was your pneumonia and heart condition acting up..."
"After taking Wayne's medicine, I'm perfectly fine now... cough..." Raymond said, then turned to Wayne with tear-filled eyes, full of gratitude: "Son, thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I might have died..."
"Uncle Raymond, no need to thank me." Wayne nodded, then frowned and said: "Mike, bro, don't you guys even know the Heimlich maneuver?"
Mike was stunned:
"What's the Heimlich maneuver? You mean what you just did? Brother, that move is really amazing! If it weren't for you, I might have lost my uncle."
Only then did Wayne realize how shockingly poor the average American's medical knowledge was.
Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he asked:
"Do none of you know any medical knowledge? If you get sick, don't you even search on your phones?"
David, standing nearby, shook his head and said:
"Online searches only lead to private hospitals. ChatGPT's medical Q&A feature used to be quite good, but it's been completely shut down recently. Rumor has it that medical groups and some well-known doctors warned against it, saying they were worried that wrong answers could lead to misdiagnosis and harm people's health."
Wayne instantly understood what was going on.
AI diagnostic answers should cover most illnesses, but if everyone used AI, who would go to the hospital for consultations?
How would they issue those exorbitant medical bills?
How would they keep prescribing painkillers?
Ordinary people had to be completely ignorant of medicine, total idiots with no medical knowledge, so the medical-industrial complex could continue to suck them dry and make money.
Just then, David pulled a bottle of medicine from his pocket, casually took out a pill, and swallowed it.
Wayne suddenly felt that the text on the bottle looked familiar and quickly reached out, saying:
"Hey, bro, can I take a look at this medicine?"
David handed the bottle to Wayne and said:
"This is the special medication for severe asthma that the doctor prescribed me. I waited in line for half a year last year just to see a doctor and get this prescription. Is there a problem?"
Wayne looked at the letters on the medicine bottle, his hands trembling slightly, and said:
"No problem, this is good medicine, absolutely good medicine."
Dexamethasone!
It was actually the hormonal drug dexamethasone!
At that moment, Mike gritted his teeth, pulled a roll of money from his inner clothing, and handed it to Wayne, saying:
"Brother, this is all the money I've saved—$1,800 in total. It's all I have. In the next few days, we'll try to figure out a way to scrape together the $20,000 to pay back Big Daddy..."
Wayne took a deep breath, pushed Mike's hand back, and said:
"No need, brother, no need. I want to know, without insurance, how do people usually see a doctor? I know some illnesses are too expensive even for middle-class folks with houses and jobs. Are there any... cheap, independent doctors in the community?"
Mike was taken aback, unsure why Wayne was asking this, but he still lowered his voice and said:
"Of course there is. Last time my uncle had a fever, he went to see an unlicensed doctor. It cost three hundred dollars each time—still not cheap, but much more affordable than going to a hospital... After all, neither my uncle nor I have health insurance anymore... Why do you ask?"
Hearing this, Wayne looked at the fish antibiotics and dexamethasone in his hand, barely able to contain his excitement.
Antibiotics plus dexamethasone—the two magic tools of rural doctors in East University.
The streets of Seattle were about to welcome their own god of medicine.