"Do you smoke?"
Unable to hold back, Du Heng asked as he looked at the woman’s fingers, even though he knew his question was pointless.
The man who had accompanied her responded, while the woman continued to struggle for breath.
"She smokes. She’s been smoking since she was in her teens. Back when tis were tough, she smoked dry tobacco, the kind where you roll your own tobacco leaves. Later, when our living conditions improved and tobacco leaves beca harder to buy, she started smoking store-bought cigarettes, two packs a day."
After hearing the man’s words, Du Heng couldn’t help but pause. "And she still smokes now?"
The man’s expression beca complicated, and he glanced at his wife from the side. "Yes, she still smokes. If I try to stop her, she gets angry with ."
That would an she had been smoking for about forty years. And given the current state of her health, smoking two packs a day... was she courting death?
Hearing the phlegm in the woman’s throat, Du Heng asked, "Have you ever checked her bronchi? Is there an issue there too?"
The man nodded again. "Yes, she was diagnosed with bronchitis when she was young."
Cao Binghe couldn’t stand it any longer and suddenly interrupted, "Can she still move around? Why didn’t you get her a wheelchair to use?"
"We found one when we arrived this morning, but during the rush to the consultation room, the wheels were sohow damaged. So she had no choice but to walk in."
Feeling both helpless and heartbroken, the man supported his wife’s shoulder. "Before, it wasn’t so bad. At least she could cook and walk a bit without issue. But ever since her first chemotherapy session, her body just hasn’t been the sa. She can no longer cook or even walk. She’s even winded for three or four minutes after getting up from the toilet. Earlier, when she walked in from outside, covering just about ten ters, she was already panting like this."
The man described his wife’s condition, but Du Heng picked up on sothing different. Puzzled, he looked again at the dical films and examination report in his hand, but they didn’t provide the information he sought. "Excuse for asking, but did you just say your wife has had chemotherapy before?"
"Yes. But she only underwent one session, and after that, she ended up like this. She could no longer walk, her hearing deteriorated, and her nasal discharge was bloody. Additionally, she’s now suffering from terrible migraines, and when the pain strikes, she can hardly move her head."
The man sighed, "That’s why our local hospital didn’t dare continue the chemotherapy treatnt, and they sent us to the Capital instead."
Du Heng also felt frustrated, looking at the man. Why couldn’t he just provide all the information at once? Instead, it was one question, one piece of information added.
Du Heng shook the materials in his hand. "So why isn’t any of the information you just ntioned provided here?"
"There was too much to carry, and we couldn’t take it all. We figured, since it was the tumor we were here for, we only brought the dical films related to it."
Du Heng no longer had any hope for the items in his hand, so he directly asked, "Are there any other discomforts that the patient is experiencing?"
"She always complains that her legs are unbearably cold, but at the sa ti, she keeps saying that her throat is dry and she feels an internal heat. She won’t be satisfied unless she has a popsicle. If there’s canned food available, she can finish a whole icy-cold can at once."
Constant burning, internal heat, and such dietary preferences weren’t uncommon, but the coldness in her legs needed to be addressed.
Thinking it through, Du Heng squatted down, pulled up the woman’s pants leg, and touched her lower limb. It did indeed feel quite cold.
But this observation led Du Heng to another question. "What’s going on with your wife’s body?"
The man looked at the area Du Heng was pointing to and hurriedly explained, "After the chemotherapy, many small lumps appeared on her back and arms, so as big as grapes, others the size of soybeans."
As he spoke, the man helped the woman remove her outer cotton coat and rolled up a sleeve to reveal her arm.
Du Heng stood up and saw the nurous dense lumps, just as the man had described.
Cao Binghe, who was standing nearby, also took a peek. "Lipomas? So many?"
"Quite a lot, indeed." Du Heng raised his head and asked the man, "Any other discomforts?"
The man shook his head. "No. Doctor, can Professor Lan help us?"
Du Heng didn’t know how to respond, but Cao Binghe interjected, "Professor Lan is injured and has been hospitalized for treatnt. He probably can’t make it now."
Disappointnt quickly spread across the man’s face.
He hadn’t left for two reasons: firstly, he couldn’t bear to waste the expensive tickets he’d bought; secondly, he was holding onto a sliver of hope. What if Professor Lan’s injury wasn’t serious and he could see them? That would be a glimr of hope, wouldn’t it? But now, looking at these two young n, he had basically given up all hope.
Seeing the man’s expression, Cao Binghe suddenly said, "Even if Professor Lan can’t make it, Doctor Du is here. Doctor Du was invited here by Professor Lan because of his expertise in treating tumors."
Du Heng didn’t feel any different after Cao Binghe’s sudden praise. However, Cao Binghe didn’t stop there and went on to recount so cases Du Heng had treated in the past.
As the couple listened to Cao Binghe’s introduction, their spirits gradually lifted, and they kept stealing glances at Du Heng.
Once Cao Binghe had finished, all three of them turned their attention to Du Heng.
Seeing the couple’s expectant gazes, Du Heng knew that they had been persuaded by Cao Binghe and were willing to accept his treatnt. So he addressed the couple, "Your current condition is quite severe, and it would be best to receive inpatient treatnt. That way, we can monitor you closely and adjust your dication as needed. What do you think? Is that convenient for you?"
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