I Am Diagnosed as a Medical Titan

"That’s right. Go to the nurse’s station and get a Captopril tablet to dissolve under your tongue. We’ll observe you for half an hour. Once your blood pressure comes down, you can go home and continue taking your Felodipine on schedule."

Zhao Yumin briskly wrote out the order and handed it over.

The man thanked him profusely and left. Before he walked out the door, he shot a glance at Chen Hao, his eyes clearly saying: ’This young doctor isn’t any good.’

The examination room door closed.

Zhao Yumin turned to Chen Hao. "There was something you missed just now when you took his blood pressure."

Chen Hao immediately sat up straight. "Teacher Zhao, please, tell me."

"The ER isn’t like the inpatient wards. Patients who just walked into the ER have either just climbed the stairs or walked a long way to get here. If you measure their blood pressure right away, it will usually be on the high side."

It dawned on Chen Hao.

Zhao Yumin continued, "Next time, before you take a reading, have the patient sit down, catch their breath, and rest for five to ten minutes before you put on the cuff. The measurement will be more accurate that way."

"I understand. Thank you, Teacher Zhao." Chen Hao nodded, taking the lesson to heart.

Having just learned a practical lesson, Chen Hao’s mind immediately went back to the man’s absurd logic.

He slumped back in his chair, feeling like his entire worldview was being shattered. "But Teacher Zhao... his logic of ’if I take medicine my blood pressure isn’t high, so I don’t have hypertension’... are we really not even going to correct him?"

"Correct what? His perception or his logic? We’re here to treat illnesses and save lives, not to win a debate. It’s his business if he thinks he’s not sick. If you argue with him until you’re red in the face, his blood pressure could spike to over two hundred, and a vessel could burst in his brain right here in this room. Whose responsibility would that be?"

For Chen Hao, it was a revelation.

"Chen Hao, you have to remember, clinical practice is nothing like a textbook. In a textbook, a patient with symptom A plus symptom B equals disease C. But in reality, patients will lie, they’ll hide things, and out of ignorance, they’ll give you a completely contradictory medical history. You can’t just listen to what they say. You have to look at the test results yourself, perform a physical examination, and find the real cause of illness amidst a pile of nonsense."

Chen Hao fell silent.

An image suddenly flashed through his mind: the emergency rescue site on the Ring City Expressway during the downpour.

It was the red-tagged zone, filled with dozens of critically injured patients, covered in blood and screaming in agony.

Most of them couldn’t even speak clearly.

And yet, in that high-pressure environment of absolute chaos, Jiang He had accurately diagnosed Tension Pneumothorax, intestinal ruptures, and intracranial bleeding, even devising the most optimal triage order.

Chen Hao, sitting in a stable examination room, was finding it difficult to deal with a patient who could communicate normally.

Only now did he truly realize just how terrifyingly profound Jiang He’s clinical experience and intuition were that night.

To paraphrase a classic novel from a later era: "You are now only at the Ascension Realm, your perspective still narrow. To you, I am like the moon to a frog at the bottom of a well. Should you one day be fortunate enough to reach the Fourteenth Realm, you will see me as a mayfly sees the vast blue sky."

"Teacher Zhao."

"Hm?"

"With no equipment, patients unable to communicate, and the scene in absolute chaos... how can a person possibly manage to accurately identify every fatal injury with one hundred percent accuracy and zero misdiagnoses? How is that even possible?"

Zhao Yumin looked at Chen Hao for a few seconds and chuckled lightly. "You’re talking about Jiang He from that night, aren’t you?"

Chen Hao nodded emphatically.

Zhao Yumin looked away, unscrewed his thermos, and took a sip of goji berry water. His tone was calm. "Actually, it comes down to two words. Once you’ve spent enough time on the front lines, you’ll naturally understand."

"Which two words?" Chen Hao pressed.

"Get to work. Go check if the lab reports are out yet." Zhao Yumin waved his hand, changing the subject.

"Oh, okay."

After Chen Hao had left the room, Zhao Yumin quietly set down his thermos and shook his head as he stared at the doorway.

’Which two words? What other two words could it be? A genius! I’ve been working in the ER for half my life and I still can’t do what that kid can. How else can you explain it, other than pure genius? I can’t very well admit to a student who hasn’t even graduated that I, a senior attending physician, was also completely humbled, can I? Heh heh. Good thing I’m quick-witted. I successfully dodged that question and saved face.’

...

Chen Hao walked out of Examination Room 1, pulling the door closed behind him.

He went to the nurses’ station and lowered his head to search through a stack of freshly printed lab reports.

As he was searching, a figure hurried up beside him, moving so fast that their shoulder bumped right into Chen Hao’s.

"Excuse me, sorry... Nurse, can you tell me where the payment office is?"

Chen Hao instinctively turned to look.

The person’s forehead was covered in sweat, and they were clutching a few forms, looking completely overwhelmed.

Chen Hao’s gaze lingered on the person’s face for two seconds. His brow furrowed as a memory flashed through his mind, and he instantly made the connection.

He had actually seen this person before.

’If I’m not mistaken, this was the hit-and-run driver from a few days ago—the one who hit Old Jiang’s ankle with his bike on the downhill path at school, left a phone number, and then rushed off. It’s definitely this kid!’