“I’ll go pour this urine first! Dr. Smith, I’m first in line, right? Please don’t let anyone cut in!”
Sophia was stunned.
What kind of behavior was this? Bringing a urinal and toiletries as if this were a campsite or a day trip?
At that moment, someone yawned and greeted her warmly, “Dr. Smith, good morning!”
“You’re here so early?”
“Of course! My child has school this morning. To avoid disrupting his studies, I came early to hold a spot. This way, he can get checked and still make it to class.”
“What grade is your child in?” Sophia asked curiously.
“Ninth grade.”
“Ninth grade, is this intense?”
“Oh yes, up at five or six every morning and not sleeping until midnight. Kids in advanced classes can’t afford to get sick!” the parent said.
Thankfully, Sophia’s medical skills were truly excellent. The child had been running a low-grade fever for some time, and the hospital couldn’t determine the cause. The family had been worried sick, fearing it might be cancer.
But when they came to Sophia, she quickly identified the problem as exhaustion from overwork. After prescribing some medicine, the fever subsided the same day.
Now, they were back for a follow-up and hoping to get some traditional medicine to boost the child’s immunity and prevent future illnesses.
Sophia hadn’t expected these parents to be so fanatical!
She was about to head inside when she saw Wilson Mark standing at the door, smiling widely. “Dr. Smith, good morning!”
Sophia glanced at him with a warm smile. “Good morning, Boss Mark!”
Wilson Mark froze, feeling a little flattered. Typically, Sophia wasn’t this polite to him.
Now that things were resolved, her attitude had improved significantly. Her smile was sincere, and even her tone was softer than usual.
“Dr. Smith.” With a favor to ask, even the usually high-and-mighty Wilson Mark—used to being pampered by artists—lowered his head and asked politely, “Do you have time today to check if I still need to take my medication?”
“Sure,” Sophia said with a sweet smile. “Go wait in line!”
Wilson Mark was stunned. He couldn’t believe his ears! Someone like him, who always flew first class and never waited in line, was now being told to queue up.
And he had just helped Sophia with something!
Was she already acting like she didn’t know him?
“Come on, Dr. Smith.” Wilson Mark smiled, trying to be tactful. “You see, I have a meeting later and am really pressed for time.”
“I understand,” Sophia replied, smiling angelically. “But would you feel comfortable cutting in line? Look, the first person in line is a father with cancer, the second is a student in their final year of school, the third is a child with severe bleeding, the fourth has liver cancer, and the fifth has b****t cancer…”
“Alright, alright!” Wilson Mark gave in immediately. “I’ll wait in line! What number am I?”
Sophia counted. “Forty-nine, I think?”
“…”
Wilson Mark initially thought his turn would come quickly, but by noon, only half the patients had been seen. He had no choice but to head back to the office and leave his driver to hold his spot.
When he returned around 8 p.m., it was finally his turn.
Sophia checked his pulse and said with a smile, “Your recovery is going well, and your pulse is much steadier now. Since that’s the case, we should keep up the momentum. Take ten more doses of the medication, and let’s see if you’re fully recovered after that. If you are, there’ll be no need to continue.”
Wilson Mark was overjoyed and didn’t know how to express his gratitude.
For a moment, he suspected that Sophia might have intentionally slowed his recovery.
After all, given her confidence, shouldn’t he have been fully healed by now?
Could she deliberately reduce the efficacy to keep him reliant on her?
In reality, he had underestimated Sophia.
The slow progress wasn’t due to manipulation but the genuine difficulty of treating his condition, compounded by the naturally longer treatment course of traditional medicine.
Sophia prescribed the next batch of medication and told him to pick it up the next day, finally sending him on his way.
At the hospital.
Director Jake paced anxiously outside the pediatric ward. Beside him stood a couple and a woman in her fifties, crying and pleading for him to find a solution. Director Jake, overwhelmed, rubbed his temples, his head pounding from the noise.
“Enough! Stop crying! Aren’t we trying to find a solution?”
“What solution? You’re the director, yet you can’t even cure your own grandson. It’s been 23 days, and he’s still lying in that hospital bed.”
Director Jake sighed deeply, utterly at a loss.
At that moment, Dr. John from pediatrics stepped out, approached Director Jake, and whispered, “Director, the situation is tricky. It seems to match the condition I mentioned last time.”
Hearing this, Director Jake almost collapsed, his head spinning.
“The condition from last time? You mean…”
“Yes,” Dr. John said, equally distressed. He felt both sympathy for the child and worry for his own career. His promotion was on the line, but now the director’s grandchild had fallen gravely ill. The condition was notoriously difficult to treat, and if he failed, the director would surely hold a grudge. A promotion would be out of the question.
“What condition from last time? What illness?” Director Jake’s wife rushed over, demanding an answer.
Dr. John lowered his head and said honestly, “Polio.”
“What?” Director Jake‘s wife collapsed to the ground, trembling, her son supporting her as she struggled to stand.
The sky felt like it was falling.
Just days ago, the child had been perfectly healthy—full of laughter and energy. Then he came down with what seemed like a simple cold: fever, coughing, nausea, vomiting, no appetite, and lethargy.
The local doctors had diagnosed it as a common cold, but after a period of worsening symptoms, the child had to be hospitalized.
Despite consulting top national experts, the diagnosis was grim.
“My grandson! How could he have this disease? You must have made a mistake! You must have!” Director Jake’s wife cried out in desperation.
Director Jake felt a deep bitterness in his heart. Over the years, he had seen countless similar cases in the hospital and thought himself hardened. But now that it was his own family—his own grandson—he finally understood how excruciating it was. He had no shortage of money or resources, but even with top national experts, there was no definitive cure. He knew better than anyone how low the recovery rate was for polio, especially for children his grandson’s age.
“Stop crying and trust the doctors. Let them treat him. If it doesn’t work here, I’ll contact experts out the country and see if they have better methods.”
