DSMIS CH36

Chapter 36: Doctor Shen Knocked Out by Altitude Sickness

Looking at the large furball constantly nudging its way into Jiang Lin’s embrace, Shen Xing really didn’t want to admit it was his:

“Serves him right. Can you just eat anything you find on the street? Stop coaxing him; he needs to know he was wrong.”

Listening to Director Shen, Jiang Lin felt like he was talking to a strict teacher rather than a doctor. He smoothed the Samoyed’s back with his hand:

“When I took him for a bath tonight, he was much better behaved than last time. I think he knows he made a mistake. You’re heading to the village tomorrow, right?”

Shen Xing nodded:

“Yeah, I estimate I’ll finish seeing the town residents who came for checkups tomorrow morning, and then we’ll head into the village tomorrow afternoon.”

“Are your accommodations arranged?”

“Yes, there’s an empty room at the village committee building.”

“I looked at the villages you’re going to, and their altitudes aren’t low. Be careful not to overwork yourself. How long will this free clinic last?”

“It’ll take about a week per village. By the time we finish them all, it’ll probably be right before the Chinese New Year. Don’t worry, I brought medicine.”

Time really was flying. It was already over two weeks past New Year’s Day. The Spring Festival fell in mid-February this year, meaning there were less than four weeks left until the holiday.

As Shen Xing and Jiang Lin video chatted, Qianjin stared at his dad on the screen, occasionally scratching at it or pushing his large face up close. Since Shen Xing had work the next day, they chatted for a while longer before hanging up. Suddenly losing his dad from the video, Qianjin whined aggrievedly, leaning closer to the phone. Heibao, who had been lying on the floor the entire time, pricked up his ears and stood up. As soon as he approached, Qianjin buried his large head into Jiang Lin’s neck, whimpering softly.

Heibao drew near and nudged the Samoyed’s exposed rump with his nose. The Samoyed responded by shrinking its rump away. Amused, Jiang Lin patted the Samoyed’s head:

“Still mad at Heibao? He was doing it for your own good. You can’t just eat things off the side of the road.”

The Samoyed didn’t understand, merely continuing to act aggrieved. Resting its head on Jiang Lin’s shoulder and clinging to him with its two front paws, it refused to let go. Jiang Lin sighed helplessly:

“How about I open one of Heibao’s small cans for you?”

He stood up, carrying the Samoyed, and grabbed a small can, popping it open one-handed. At the click sound, the Samoyed’s pink ears perked up, and it immediately turned its head, finally jumping down from Jiang Lin’s arms. Heibao sat at a distance, making no move to approach. Never one to play favorites, Jiang Lin grabbed another small can, opened it, placed it in front of Heibao, and rubbed his head:

“You did very well today, Heibao. If Qianjin tries to eat things off the road again, you need to stop him. Go on, eat.”

The only sound in the room was the Samoyed eagerly chowing down, its head buried in the small can. It didn’t take long for the can to be emptied. The dog licked the empty container over and over again, clearly not satisfied. Looking up, it saw Heibao lying by the coffee table, a small can still in front of him. The fluffy paws took two steps in that direction before stopping. The Samoyed lay down on the spot, burying its face in its paws, pretending not to look. But soon enough, it lifted its head again, eyes darting back to the small can.

It nudged its way closer, buried its head again, and then nudged closer once more. Before long, it had shimmied right up next to the small can. Heibao remained lying there, just as he had when the white furball first arrived at their home, allowing it to approach. Finally, unable to resist the temptation, the Samoyed stuck out its tongue and took a lick.

When Jiang Lin came out of the shower, he saw Heibao lying there, watching the Samoyed happily eating from the small can right in front of him. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him. Not only had he secretly opened a small can for the Samoyed behind Doctor Shen’s back, but he had actually let it eat two. He wavered between “I can’t spoil the kid like this” and “forget it,” ultimately choosing “forget it.” Maybe after sharing the canned food, the two furbabies would make up.

But evidently, the Samoyed wasn’t so easily bribed by delicious food. After finishing Heibao’s small can, it didn’t cuddle up with Heibao to sleep like it had the previous two nights. Instead, it ran into Jiang Lin’s bedroom. Jiang Lin, who was currently sticking a medicated plaster on his wrist, smiled when he saw it walk in wagging its tail:

“What are you doing here?”

The Samoyed rested its large head on the bed, acting incredibly clingy. Jiang Lin had no choice but to let it be. Shortly after, Heibao appeared in the doorway. However, he didn’t enter. Instead, just like he used to do in the police force, he lay down with his back to the room, as if standing guard over the man and dog inside.

The next day, Shen Xing officially entered the village. Switching from the national highway to a provincial highway, then to a county road, and finally to a township road, they finally reached the village entrance. The winding mountain road alone took nearly an hour to traverse, the altitude climbing steadily. Shen Xing began to feel pressure in his eardrums and a dull ache in his head. Glancing at his watch, he saw the altitude had reached 4,100 meters. He took out the oxygen canister Jiang Lin had prepared and inserted the nasal cannula. After half an hour and one depleted canister, his head felt significantly clearer.

They had lunch at the village committee building. The village chief, Zha Ren, was very hospitable, preparing a warming yak meat hot pot, steaming butter tea, and tsampa, repeatedly thanking them for coming to the village to treat the residents.

Although Shen Xing had been in Fulan County for nearly three months, his dining experiences were mostly confined to the county bureau canteen or eating out with Jiang Lin. While he had tried some local specialties, this was his first time sitting with Tibetans drinking butter tea. Having just inhaled oxygen, he didn’t feel any major discomfort and didn’t pay much attention to the altitude sickness. After driving all morning, he was starving, and he ate his fill of the meal and tea.

The afternoon consultations took place at the village clinic next to the village committee building, working alongside the village doctor. The village clinic could only perform simple blood tests; anything else required storing the blood samples to be sent to the town for testing the next day.

The village committee had gone door-to-door three days in advance to notify everyone about the free physical exams. Except for the elderly with mobility issues, everyone was expected to come to the clinic proactively. Villagers were also told to bring any previous medical reports, emphasizing that a senior director from a big city was coming. By the time they finished lunch, people were already lining up at the clinic.

There were three of them in the clinic: Lobsang handled blood draws and sample preservation, while Shen Xing conducted the consultations, translated by the village doctor, Drolma. Here, he wasn’t just an orthopedic surgeon; he acted as a general practitioner. The reports presented to him covered a wide array of specialties: cardiology, pulmonology, gastroenterology, and, of course, his own field.

For minor issues, he could generally provide medical advice and recommendations. For complex cases, he would call the hospital for assistance, record the issue, and advise the patient to follow up at the county hospital at the very least.

While seeing patients, Shen Xing started feeling unwell. The food he had eaten at noon now felt like a rock sitting in his stomach, causing a wave of nausea. The headache that had started during the drive also returned. Noticing his pale complexion, Lobsang guessed he might have altitude sickness:

“Director Shen, are you feeling unwell?”

The village doctor also looked over. He knew Director Shen wasn’t a local and that their altitude was high:

“Director Shen, is it altitude sickness? It’s almost dark anyway, let’s stop here for today. Go inside quickly, let me check your blood oxygen.”

When Jiang Lin video-called that evening, Shen Xing was dozing in a daze. He instinctively pressed the answer button and held the phone up to his face, almost dropping it on himself. His voice was a bit hoarse:

“Hero.”

Jiang Lin was startled to see the person on screen lying down with a nasal cannula:

“What’s wrong? Has the altitude sickness gotten worse?”

An hour ago, the village doctor, Drolma, had measured his blood oxygen at only 86, rushed him back to his room, put him on oxygen, and started an IV drip.

Shen Xing leaned against the pillow like a listless sick cat:

“Yeah, I was fine driving during the day. Maybe the yak hot pot I had for lunch was too greasy.”

“How are you feeling now? Do you have medicine over there?”

Shen Xing waved his IV hand in front of the camera:

“Nauseous, headache. Yeah, the village doctor prescribed some medicine for me.”

“Have you eaten dinner?”

Shen Xing shook his head:

“I just threw up. My stomach feels awful, I can’t eat. I’m on a glucose drip, I’ll be fine.”

Seeing Doctor Shen so weak and listless for the first time, Jiang Lin’s first thought was surprisingly to drive to the village right now to see him. But he quickly calmed down; leaving now would mean arriving in the middle of the night, which would probably disrupt Shen Xing’s rest.

“How are the accommodations? The forecast says the temperature is dropping over the next two days. Do you have air conditioning?”

“No air conditioning, but I have a small space heater. It’s not cold, just a bit dry.”

As they spoke, the Samoyed’s large, fluffy face appeared on screen. Even though the furball was a bit silly, its grinning face was quite healing. Shen Xing was generally very healthy; working in orthopedics, he rarely got sick year-round. Now, feeling physically unwell in an unfamiliar place, a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over him. He poked the Samoyed on the screen with his finger:

“Silly dog, did you miss me?”

Perhaps due to the nasal cannula, Doctor Shen’s voice sounded a bit muffled. Hearing that voice and seeing the finger on the screen, Jiang Lin’s heartbeat quickened for a second, almost entirely missing the words “silly dog” and assuming Shen Xing was asking if he missed him. He lowered his head to hide his momentary lapse in composure, lifted Qianjin’s front paw, and waved it at him:

“We miss you… he misses you.”

“Wasn’t he feeling aggrieved yesterday? Is he better today? Did he make up with Heibao?”

His Samoyed might not seem very smart, but it could hold a grudge sometimes.

Jiang Lin smiled, recalling the morning’s events:

“They hadn’t made up last night. He used to sleep next to Heibao, but last night he slept in the room with me. When I took them out this morning, Qianjin was still ignoring Heibao like yesterday, walking off to the side by himself. Coincidentally, we ran into a white Pomeranian this morning. The Pomeranian seemed to really like Heibao, kept trying to get close to him and lick his fur. But before it could, Qianjin charged over and shoved it away. After that, he made up with Heibao.”

Of course, he omitted the part about Qianjin stealing Heibao’s small can of food.

Hearing this, Shen Xing suddenly remembered the time he hugged Heibao and Heibao rubbed against him:

“The little guy is quite the jealous type.”

They chatted for a bit longer until the churning sensation in Shen Xing’s stomach returned:

“Hold on, Hero. I think I need to throw up again.”

Before Jiang Lin could even respond, the scene on the phone changed abruptly. Shen Xing hurriedly pushed his IV pole and scrambled out of bed toward the bathroom. If there was one thing about this room that satisfied him, it was that it had an en-suite bathroom. The phone was left on the bed, leaving Jiang Lin staring at the ceiling. He could faintly hear the sounds of dry heaving, followed by the rushing sound of a flushing toilet masking everything else.

After a long while, Shen Xing floated out of the bathroom and placed his phone on the nightstand. Jiang Lin saw that the hair on his forehead and face was still dripping wet, making him look like he’d just been fished out of the water:

“How are you? Is it very uncomfortable? Do you have any gastrointestinal medicine?”

Shen Xing pressed a hand to his upper abdomen. The persistent blockage finally felt somewhat relieved. He sat on the edge of the bed, muttering to himself:

“I feel much better after throwing up. I think I’m a little hungry. I want to drink Cola, and I want canned yellow peaches.”

“Is there a supermarket in the village?”

“It’s already nine o’clock. Even if there is, it’s closed. Besides, I’d feel bad asking someone to go buy something for me. I’m here to treat them; I haven’t even seen that many patients yet, how can I trouble them? It’s fine, I won’t eat. Eating now will just make it hard to sleep, and I might just throw up again.”

Seeing that Shen Xing looked sleepy, Jiang Lin finally said:

“Is there much saline left?”

“Not much. It’ll probably be done in fifteen minutes.”

Jiang Lin stayed and chatted with him for a while longer until the IV finished and Shen Xing was sleepy-eyed, at which point they ended the video call.

Shen Xing’s altitude sickness wasn’t considered severe. With timely medication and a night of oxygen, his headache was mostly gone by the time he woke up the next morning, and the dizzy, bloated feeling had improved significantly. He was just a little short of breath when walking. Fortunately, he was still seeing patients at the health center today, so he didn’t need to walk much. However, having learned his lesson, he didn’t dare overeat that morning, only eating until he was half-full and drinking a vial of glucose.

There were even more people from the village today than yesterday, and almost all of them brought their previous medical reports. Among them was an elderly Tibetan man holding a bag containing CT scans. His face was deathly pale as he sat down shakily in front of Shen Xing. Shen Xing initially thought he had Parkinson’s, but the village doctor, Drolma, looked at the old man with exasperation:

“Danba Labu, you’re back again.”

Shen Xing knew “Labu” was an honorific title for elderly men here. He whispered to Drolma:

“Does the old man have Parkinson’s?”

Drolma sighed helplessly:

“Danba Labu wasn’t feeling well a while ago, so his family took him to the county town for a chest X-ray. Ever since he got back, he’s convinced he has lung cancer and that his children are intentionally hiding it from him, saying he doesn’t have long to live.”

At that moment, a black SUV turned into the courtyard of the health center. A person wearing a windbreaker and combat boots stepped out of the car. He followed the villagers coming for checkups into the health center and immediately spotted Doctor Shen in his white coat inside the examination room, holding up an X-ray to the light. His focused expression was completely different from the listless sick cat from last night.

The chest X-ray indicated inflammation and a small nodule, but it was obviously benign and had nothing to do with lung cancer. Shen Xing knew that if he didn’t resolve the old man’s suspicions, the old man might literally scare himself to death. He proactively offered to listen to his lung sounds before returning the scans:

“Uncle, this nodule is benign. Many people have them; it’s not fatal, and it’s completely different from cancer. I just listened to your lungs, and there are no murmurs. The inflammation is healing very well. Put your mind at ease, okay?”

Just as he finished speaking, he looked up and locked eyes with the person standing at the door of the examination room.

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Author’s Note:

With Qianjin ignoring Heibao, I feel a bit sorry for Heibao. Sigh, what will Qianjin do if Heibao is gone in the future? [Pity]
Don’t worry, this author doesn’t write bad endings, and the dogs will be fine too [Kiss]