In the outpatient room, all eyes were focused on the male patient on the Pingche and his tongue that couldn’t be retracted. The air was filled with a mix of curiosity, puzzlent, and a faint hint of intrigue that was hard to detect. Several young graduate students and residents whispered among themselves, with various speculations colliding in their subdued conversations.
"Could it be acute anterior dislocation of the temporomandibular joint? Although the X-ray shows nothing, could it be a special case?" a resident with black-rimd glasses hypothesized, but then imdiately self-denied, "But dislocation usually results in the mouth not being able to close, the tongue not retracting seems atypical."
"Does it seem more like a nervous system issue? Like a focal epileptic seizure, just manifesting as tonic spasm of the tongue muscle?" another graduate student with active thinking jumped in.
"What about psychological factors? acute dissociative conversion disorder (hysteria)? After being strongly suggested, body functions beco abnormal?" A doctor who seed to pay more attention to psychosomatic dicine analyzed while stroking his chin, "Look, the patient looks extrely embarrassed and anxious, which might exacerbate the symptoms."
The patient’s wife listened to the doctors’ discussions which were not quite silent, her face becoming even paler, hands tightly clenched together, nails nearly digging into the flesh. "Doctor, what are they talking about... what kind of illness is it? Is it serious? Can it be treated?" she looked helplessly at the only person in the room who remained absolutely calm from the beginning—Yang Ping.
Yang Ping seed oblivious to the discussions around him, as if his world had narrowed down to just the patient before him. He first cast a reassuring look at the patient’s wife and spoke with a calm and powerful voice, "Don’t be anxious, and don’t scare yourself. We’ll take it step by step, the cause needs to be investigated, but there will be a solution."
Having said this, he bent down to closely observe the patient’s outstretched tongue. Unlike other doctors who were eager to touch or try repositioning, he seed like a connoisseur admiring a unique piece of art. He noticed that although the tongue was stiff, it wasn’t completely immobile; with extre effort, the root of the tongue seed to have minute tremors trying to retract, but was imdiately anchored by stronger forces. The tongue surface was dry, colored dark red-purple, indicating issues in local blood circulation and nerve control.
"Mr. Li, right?" Yang Ping looked into the patient’s eyes, which were filled with pain and sha, almost tearing up, and called out the surna ntioned by the ergency doctor earlier, "I know you’re very uncomfortable now, and speaking is difficult. I’ll ask you a few questions; please answer with nods or shake your head as much as you can, okay?"
The patient quickly nodded vigorously, a glimr of hope flashing in his eyes.
"Before this situation occurred this morning, did you have any head injuries?"
The patient shook his head.
"Have you had a history of epilepsy before? Or any sudden immobility in any part?"
The patient shook his head again, his gaze certain.
"Apart from your tongue, do you feel stiffness, weakness, or numbness in your neck, arms, or legs?"
The patient carefully felt for a mont, then shook his head once more.
Yang Ping nodded and gestured to Li Min to hand him a fresh pair of sterile gloves. He put on the gloves with soft movents to palpate the both sides of the patient’s neck, checking carotid pulse while feeling muscle tension.
"Relax, I’m just checking." His voice carried a strange soothing power.
Then, he used a flashlight to check the patient’s throat; the uvula was centered, and the throat wasn’t noticeably red or swollen. He also examined the patient’s oral cavity and root of the tongue, looking out if there are foreign bodies or abnormal structural pressure.
Everything seed "normal", but that very normalcy was the biggest abnormality.
The faint discussions around gradually quieted, everyone held their breath, watching Yang Ping’s every move, hoping he would find the key clue everyone else missed. Yang Ping’s examinations were ticulous yet differed from routine physical checks; he seed to seek a "sensation", a pathological logic hidden beneath the surface.
Upon finishing the examination, Yang Ping straightened up, removing his gloves while casually turning to the patient’s wife, beginning what appeared to be a casual chat, which was actually the true start of his diagnosis.
"Ms. Wang (Patient’s Wife)," Yang Ping’s tone beca even smoother, "How has Mr. Li been lately physically? Any colds or fevers? Or has he eaten anything special?"
This was routine inquiry, the patient’s wife promptly answered, "Physically he’s been good, just... just a few days ago might’ve eaten sothing bad, got a bit of gastroenteritis, throwing up and having diarrhea; he had no appetite and was completely exhausted."
"Gastroenteritis?" Yang Ping caught onto this information, eyes slightly narrowed, "How many days did it last? Did you go to the hospital? Did the doctor prescribe any dications?"
"It started just the past couple of days, yesterday it was unbearable and went to the community hospital. The doctor prescribed so dications, vomiting got a lot better after taking them, but he still has no energy." The wife tried hard to recall, "The prescribed dication... seed to be an anti-etic, a white tablet, I don’t rember the na..."
"Did you bring the dicine box or have a prescription slip?" Yang Ping inquired further, his tone still steady, but beside him, Doctor Li Min had already sensed that the professor seed to have grasped sothing.
"No... The dicine was finished; the box was just thrown away." The wife said regretfully.
"It’s okay," Yang Ping wasn’t discouraged, continuing to guide, "Try to recall, what’s the na of the tablet? Or did the doctor or pharmacist specifically advise anything? Like how many tis a day to take, how many tablets at each ti?"
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