Chapter 100

100th Episode. Curing Diseases, Uncuring Diseases (3)

Natalie was touching the heart specimen jar on the clinic desk. Maybe others would’ve gotten irritated, but…

This patient truly had no malice. It seemed her neural circuits for considering if she’s annoying others were malfunctioning.

I just decided to understand it.

Streptococcal throat infection and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. These two diagnoses were my conclusions about Miss Natalie.

“So, there are now two cats stationed in front of the dormitory. To be honest, I’m not a big fan of cats, but people who like them probably outnumber those who don’t, right?”

“Patient.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“You’re talking too much.”

“Oh. I get that a lot, but I don’t know where to start fixing it. During my last consultation, another professor said something similar. At the time, I thought it was a compliment for being energetic, but now thinking back, it might’ve been criticism.”

I sighed.

“Please stop talking. Let me explain.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.”

“It seems you have bacterial tonsillitis rather than a cold, so we’ll treat it with medicine. Antibiotics should take care of it easily.”

Natalie nodded.

“Yes.”

“Can you say ‘Ah’ once?”

“Aaaah…”

I looked into Natalie’s mouth.

Her tonsils were slightly swollen, confirming my suspicion of bacterial tonsillitis. Antibiotics should cure this quickly.

“Patient, I want to talk seriously…”

“Yes?”

“It seems you also have ADHD. You may not realize it, but it’s a treatable condition.”

“Really?”

“It gets better with medication.”

ADHD.

Also known as Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

It’s a condition involving issues with dopamine and norepinephrine regulation in the brain’s neural circuits.

The exact cause isn’t clear, and its mechanisms mix psychological factors, making it complex. Simply put, it’s a type of nervous disorder where attention drops and restlessness increases.

Natalie fell silent. Whether from shock or deep contemplation, the usually chatty student closed her eyes tightly and pondered.

“Really…?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t seem to fully believe it—not the illness, but the existence of a cure.

“It sounds unrealistic. How can taking some pills change someone’s personality?”

“Well, drinking alcohol moderately can improve one’s mood, right? This medicine works similarly.”

Natalie’s expression turned slightly melancholic.

“Doctor, do you think my personality needs treatment?”

“Yeah, it’s quite unusual.”

But I couldn’t say that outright. This could also be an ADHD symptom—sudden emotional fluctuations. In everyday terms, we call it “energy level.”

Natalie’s energy level had noticeably dropped since entering. She looked deflated, like wet spinach. She seemed pitiful.

“Well, Miss Natalie…”

“Yes?”

“When you see people wearing wigs, glasses, or leaning on walking sticks, what do you think?”

“That could happen.”

“ADHD is indeed a condition. It’s not inherently problematic or wrong—it just causes occasional inconvenience.”

Natalie sighed.

“I guess so.”

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just offering a choice.”

“Still… The idea of fundamentally changing something feels scary. Would you take the medicine if you were in my position?”

Lately, I’ve been hearing that question a lot.

“The effects are temporary, lasting barely a day. I’m not giving you this medicine to drastically alter your personality…”

“For example, during exam prep when you need focus, or before an interview, this gives you options for a few days.”

“Yes.”

“Of course, it’s impossible and dangerous to change a person or their character through short-term medication. That’s not the goal.”

“So, is it always good?”

“Nothing is always good. It’s a serious matter that requires consideration.”

Natalie groaned while deeply contemplating. It’s common. Often, symptoms coexist with patients over long periods, significantly influencing their personalities.

Especially in younger patients.

A classic example is deafness. Modern medicine, like cochlear implants, can restore hearing in some cases, but the aftermath is the issue.

Someone who could’ve lived as a normal deaf person suddenly has to live as an abnormal hearing person.

Many refuse treatment for this very reason. The illness becomes part of the patient’s identity, and removing it means transforming the person.

In that sense, I understood Natalie’s concerns. She likely viewed herself as creative, energetic, and able to see things others couldn’t.

What should I say, and what should I treat to help Natalie? I thought about it.

Hmm…

“While we have time, I want to tell you something, Miss Natalie. I once had a senior named Asperger who discovered a disease.”

“He must’ve been a good person.”

Hans Asperger.

He provided theoretical justification for euthanizing disabled individuals under the Nazis. I don’t think Hans was a good person.

Some might defend him, but that’s my opinion. It’s true he sent disabled children to euthanasia facilities.

Anyway…

“My Senior Asperger said…”

“What did he say?”

Trying to recall the exact poetic words Asperger used took some effort.

Let me paraphrase.

“He said that a bit of illness might be necessary for success in art or science. People who abandon ordinary life, view the world with fresh eyes, and walk untrodden paths are needed.”

“Wow.”

“Though your diagnosis is different, you understand the meaning, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

Natalie shook her head.

How should I explain it?

“You’re different from others, and that’s a gift from God. But even gifts can become burdensome if carried too long.”

“So, you’re telling me to take the medicine?”

I shook my head.

“You asked earlier if I’d take the medicine in your situation, right? Honestly, I wouldn’t. I’m a personality deviant who looks down on normal people. I wouldn’t take medicine to become like everyone else.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not like me, are you? You have friends and excellent social skills—young and vibrant. You’re a different person, aren’t you?”

Finally understanding, Natalie slowly nodded. Though the process was long, I was relieved the message got across.

“Explain the medicine to me.”

Edderall. A compound made of amphetamine salts. Amphetamine is a peculiar substance.

This time, instead of a medicine bottle, I handed her four pills in a small wooden cup.

“I’ll give you three days’ worth. If anything feels off after taking it, you don’t have to continue.”

Natalie fidgeted with her hair. This patient couldn’t resist grabbing my stuff again. Restless and scatterbrained.

“Why? Shouldn’t I consistently take the medicine for the illness to properly heal? It feels scary to randomly stop and start.”

“Firstly, your condition isn’t curable, but the medicine might make daily life easier. It won’t fix your personality.”

“Oh.”

“Secondly, amphetamine calms and focuses ADHD patients but has the opposite effect on regular people.”

“How is that possible? Shouldn’t it have similar effects on the same person? Like both feeling happier?”

Honestly, I don’t fully understand either.

“It stimulates the brain.”

“Okay…”

“In normal brains, increased activity makes the person more energetic. In ADHD brains, they’re already sluggish, so they act out. The medicine restores balance, calming them.”

“Ah…”

“Think of it like food making a well-fed person exclaim in delight but stopping a starving person from begging for more.”

Natalie glared at the four pills as if they’d done something wrong.

“Take it for three days and tell me if your behavior changes, if you feel happier or calmer, and how people around you react. Most importantly…”

“What’s most important?”

“Tell me if you want to keep taking the medicine.”

“What if I say no?”

“That’s the end.”

“What if I say no right now?”

“It’s still the end.”

***

Mint scratched her head.

Where is she, this human?

“She’s late…”

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