I can see the status bar

Chapter 359 Help me ([-] updates please subscribe)
Another day passed.This is a rare family reunion in the past week.Besides my wife, my parents were also in the ICU.The two hands of the old couple were tightly held together, and it seemed that they were under a lot of psychological pressure.

"There are more than 400 million in your card." After being silent for a while, my wife took out a bank statement and put it in front of me for me to see. "Where did you get so much money?"

How many? 400?I was taken aback.It's not known exactly how much money I was making, but they seemed pretty sure that my normal income couldn't support that much surplus.

"No, I remember, too." I can speak flawlessly in this state.Anyway, even if I wanted to panic, I couldn't express it.However, this also brought about serious side effects - speaking in this state, the chances of others believing it also decreased a lot.

"Son..." The old mother said tremblingly beside her, "Is your money... from the right way? If it's not from the right way, then don't dare to touch it!"

"I, now, this, the state." I said helplessly, "Shooting, it's all counted, and I'm relieved. Also, what, can, worry about?"

I am lying half dead in the ICU, and the first question you care about is whether there is any problem with the source of the money?This question cannot be pondered carefully, the more I ponder, the angrier I get.Even if there is a problem with the source of money, is it useful for you to worry about it now?

Why can't you tell the priority of things?

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In the hospital, many things outside have become insignificant.Any workplace relationship, any career prospects, and even some face and dignity are trivial matters.I feel that luck is pretty good, at least I don't have to be inexplicably in pain like the old man next door, and the pain is so painful that painkillers are useless.

He has been whining for three days in the hospital bed next to me.At the beginning, the doctors installed some kind of "autonomous control" pain relief infusion pump on him.I could hear it very clearly from the side. There was a switch in that thing, as long as you press it, there will be a "beep" sound, and at the same time the pain relief pump will pump medicine into his body.

When the doctor handed over the painkiller to him, I heard a series of dense beeps.Then there is the helpless explanation of the doctors - the total amount that this thing can input within a certain period of time is limited.

Until yesterday, I was able to have a few words with the patient next door.But starting this morning, he stopped responding to my questions.I just heard from Dr. Sun that the poor ghost was induced into a state of chemical coma.For the first two days, I was thankful that I didn't have to suffer like him.But now, I envy him a little bit - people in a coma can't feel anything.

"Also, why did you tell Schumann that you were going to the general ward?" I was habitually divergent thinking, and my father suddenly opened his mouth and asked, "Don't think about it, we asked the doctor, you can cure it." of."

"Now, consolation, it's meaningless." I didn't bother to continue the discussion with them—I was afraid that my eyeballs would explode if I continued talking. "The condition is stable, go, normal, ward, risky, possible, control."

Anyway, it is simply impossible for you to ask me to explain my choice in detail now.Say a few words briefly, and the meaning is probably there.Anyway, for me, it really doesn't make sense to continue treatment.To be a disabled person in good health or to die early and be reborn early, and at the same time leave a lot of money for the family to live on, which of the two options should be chosen does not seem to require extra thinking.

Since Dr. Sun said that there is a risk of infection if I go to the general ward, isn't that just what I want?

"That's it, it's settled." I said slowly, "You all go back, I think, and take a rest."

I closed my eyes, and then completely did not respond to their inquiries and persuasion.When this person is lying in bed and unable to move, it is difficult to get rid of himself.But then again, why bother trying to figure out how to kill myself if I can still move?
I feel a little bored.After lying here for more than ten days, the thoughts that popped up in my mind became more and more boring.

God who has no eyes, since I am ready to die, can't you make my life a little bit more interesting?
After groaning for a while, I heard the young doctor's voice again. "Do you think that you are completely hopeless?"

I opened my eyes, "You are, doctor. This kind of thing shouldn't be, it's you, tell me?"

"I told you, but you don't believe me." Dr. Sun sounded helpless, "I'm still looking for evidence, but... have you ever felt that the thoughts in your mind have become... less annoying ?”

I was taken aback when I heard this, and didn't bother to speak.

"Your strange thoughts, on the one hand, prove that your frontal lobe is damaged. On the other hand, I suspect that it is also related to your current state. There are cases of locked-in syndrome caused by frontal lobe damage."

I opened my eyes, but unfortunately, most of Dr. Sun's body was out of my sight.I could barely see his shoulder.

"Your current brain damage and locked-in syndrome are due to a car accident. But part of the reason is due to insufficient blood supply to the brain." Dr. Sun continued to tell me about his diagnosis, and I began to believe his words—if only To persuade me to continue living in the ICU to receive treatment and cheat money, he only needs to say a few simple words, "The cause of the disease has been found, and we are confident that it will be cured".There is no need to make up such a long story to fool me.

Of course, how much of this change of mind is because I don't want to die yet... I can't say for sure.

"You have an open fracture of the femur in your right leg." Dr. Sun continued, "After a long bone fracture in the human body, a lot of fat will enter the blood circulation system. The more common problem in this kind of patients is fat embolism syndrome. You Luckily, the fat wasn't lodged in the capillaries of your lungs, it was lodged in your right frontal lobe and basal ganglia."

"Now, what's the use of talking about it?" I got a little impatient, "In the final analysis, you, still, can't cure me."

"I may not be able to cure your illness." Dr. Sun actually behaved very naturally when he admitted his incompetence, as if he didn't mean to be embarrassed at all. "But if you don't let me have a try and don't cooperate with my treatment plan, then you will definitely die. Between dying or not necessarily being cured, which one would you choose?"

I fell silent, not knowing how to answer this question.

"It's not hard to find drugs to fight fat embolism. They are all ready-made. It's just because your frontal lobe is damaged, and we haven't found any imaging evidence." Dr. Sun suddenly said, "But considering that you have given up Treatment tendencies, so I will secretly tell you about the current situation - as long as you are willing to accept a proof-of-confirmation treatment, I will go out and get your family to sign later. The treatment itself has no risk to you, if you are interested in the treatment No response, the worst case is nothing more than two days later and then transferred to the general ward to die, it is not a loss for you."

"If, yes, I don't respond to the treatment." I thought about it for a while and said to Dr. Sun, "Then, I hope you can help me."

"Help you?" Dr. Sun was taken aback for a moment, then stood up abruptly.

"Yes, help me." I said seriously, "Now, I can't do it by myself. Come, help me." I tried my best to look at Dr. Sun's face from the corner of my eye, and then said, "Yes, Peanut, allergy."

He was silent for a long time, so long that I wondered if I was deaf.Then, I heard the answer I wanted.

"Okay." Dr. Sun nodded, "I'll help you."

(End of this chapter)