Chapter 17: Foreman? You Got This!
Hearing Foreman's conclusion, David turned and continued questioning:
"So, as a neurologist, can you actually cure this disease?"
Facing David's question, Foreman felt something was fundamentally wrong.
In the current dynamic, it seemed like he was the intern in Diagnostics.
And David was the licensed attending physician.
Realizing this, Foreman scoffed, wanting to regain control:
"What? You're diagnosing him with SSPE just because he wasn't vaccinated?
That's extremely premature."
David's lips curved into a smile as he looked at the defensive Foreman:
"Whether it's true or not, we'll know once we tap his CSF."
Foreman sneered and shot back:
"Then go ahead and do the LP. You're the one who suggested tapping cerebrospinal fluid, so you should know the procedure."
In Foreman's mind, David asking for his opinion meant he only had superficial knowledge of SSPE.
Which meant David probably didn't know how to perform the lumbar puncture required to extract CSF.
Moreover, if David—with zero practical experience—went ahead with it, even the slightest mistake could leave the patient paralyzed!
That would be a catastrophic medical error. He didn't believe David actually had the guts to take on this responsibility.
In the end, David would have to back down and rely on him, Foreman, to step in.
However, reality turned out quite different from his expectations.
Facing his provocative challenge, David didn't back down at all, agreeing with barely any hesitation:
"Alright. If Dan's entered the second stage of SSPE, he could code at any moment.
No time to waste. I'll do it."
Seeing David agree so decisively, Foreman felt a pang of regret.
This was his area of expertise, a perfect opportunity to showcase his skills.
And he'd just given it up out of spite?
But you can't unring a bell.
Foreman could only follow David back to the room with a stony expression.
He wanted to see if this guy actually knew what he was doing or was just bluffing.
If it was the latter, after he stopped David and took over the CSF extraction himself, he'd definitely write a scathing entry about this incident in David's intern evaluation!
Seeing the two enter the room, Dan's mother's face filled with worry. Although there'd been lots of medical jargon in the conversation just now, she'd still picked up on the danger from phrases like "second stage" and "could die."
She looked at House, who was standing there observing, and said anxiously:
"Dr. House, are you seriously going to let these two experiment like this?
That's an intern! Can he really do this? Has he even encountered similar cases before?
Has he ever—"
Facing Dan's mother's rapid-fire questions, House simply raised his hand to stop her:
"With Foreman supervising, nothing will go wrong. He graduated top of his class in neurology at Johns Hopkins.
And after graduation, he's worked at this hospital for years and handled countless critical situations.
You can trust his oversight.
As for that intern? I can assure you, he's the most talented young physician I've seen in my career."
With House's reassurance, the mother's anxiety finally settled.
Through the observation window beside the room, she watched as her son was positioned on his left side.
Then the doctor named Cameron whispered something to him—trying to distract him.
And the intern named David took out a spinal needle with an alarmingly long shaft, and after sterilizing the area and draping it, David slowly inserted the long spinal needle at the L3-L4 interspace.
The sight made Dan's mother feel faint—what kind of pain must that be?
Even though House had reassured her that local anesthetic would significantly reduce the pain, she still felt anguished.
Because she could see her son's hands gripping the sheets in white-knuckled fists and cold sweat beading on his forehead.
If it weren't for Dr. Foreman—whom House had called a neurology specialist—standing by without any reaction, she would've thought David had screwed up and was causing her son unnecessary pain.
Fortunately, although all of this seemed to drag on forever to Dan's mother, it actually ended quite quickly.
Especially after Dan got distracted by something he probably shouldn't have noticed when Cameron—wearing a v-neck top—leaned over to talk to him.
David's CSF collection process became much smoother after that.
After instructing Dan to lie flat without a pillow and stay hydrated, David took the cerebrospinal fluid sample to the lab.
Soon, the test results came back.
Foreman looked at David, who emerged with the report, with a complicated expression.
Did this kid have any weaknesses?
He'd watched David perform the entire lumbar puncture—it was textbook perfect, nothing like a novice.
He had no idea how David pulled this off.
David's hand hadn't even trembled during the CSF extraction.
It was as steady as when he'd performed Rebecca's cricothyrotomy—impossibly steady!
Naturally, David wasn't about to tell Foreman the truth.
In reality, all he had was theoretical knowledge.
He just strictly followed the procedures in his head, combined with the composure he'd developed from facing his own death, which prevented excessive emotional reactions when operating on patients.
As long as the educational materials he'd studied were accurate, David wouldn't make mistakes.
After David signaled House with his eyes, he approached Dan's parents and, like an attending physician, handed them the report and pre-operative consent forms while explaining:
"We've confirmed it. The problem is a mutated measles virus.
This means Dan has been diagnosed with Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis.
Our standard treatment protocol involves intraventricular interferon injections.
We'll implant an Ommaya reservoir—a device that pumps medication into the ventricle through a catheter—under the scalp, connected to a ventricular catheter.
The catheter will deliver antivirals directly to the affected brain tissue..."
Dan's parents looked bewildered by David's barrage of medical terminology.
They only understood one phrase in that entire explanation—implanted under the scalp.
They immediately realized this was surgical consent.
"You're saying you need to operate on his brain, right? How risky is it?"
David nodded:
"You could put it that way. Also, every surgery carries risks.
Brain surgery has an extremely high risk factor, and no one can guarantee a hundred percent success rate.
But if you consent, Dan might have a chance at survival.
If you don't consent, Dan will definitely die.
So, do you understand?"
After Dan's parents exchanged glances, they sighed deeply and signed their names.
Between certain death and potential survival, the choice was obvious.
"Don't worry. This surgery will be personally performed by our finest neurologist, Dr. Foreman.
Foreman, right?"
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