Chapter 138

138. Pickles and Sore Throats (3)

****

I was sitting in the hospital clinic with Istina. Two patients were admitted to my ward.

We’re preparing for rounds and will soon visit the admitted patients. This is why Istina’s studying the medical records.

Since we haven’t seen these patients directly yet.

Istina was looking at yesterday’s records, her face showing a hint of suspicion.

“Will eating too many pickles kill you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s written in the medical record.”

It was something I explained to Amy yesterday.

And I’m too lazy to explain it again.

Istina carefully examined the medical record of the patient who overate pickles—wasn’t his name Eric? She then looked up curiously.

“That’s fascinating. So if you eat this much, your insides pickle like preserved food and lose all their water?”

That was correct. Overeating anything isn’t good—even something as seemingly healthy as pickles.

“It’s not just pickles. If you sit down and eat an entire tub of anything, you’ll die. Even drinking too much water can kill you.”

Istina scratched her head.

“By the way, the patients from yesterday… Their intake forms seem incomplete. Is there a reason for that?”

Of course. As they say, even a dog trained for three years can recite poetry. After working with Istina for so long, she’s developed a keen eye for medical records.

“If you look closely, both patients had impaired judgment. We’ll have to reassess them once they’re fully recovered.”

“Oh…”

“Eating too much salt water can shrink not only muscles but also the brain. Electrolyte imbalances can impair judgment. That’s why we need to monitor this patient closely.”

“But why did he eat so many pickles?”

“You can ask him later.”

How would I know?

****

Anyway, we headed back to the ward to see Mr. Eric. He seemed much better than yesterday.

Istina stood with her arms crossed, clutching the patient’s medical chart.

The student healers all stood in perfect posture, just like how they were taught. Heck, even the med students from my past life stood the same way.

“Is your name Eric?”

“Yes.”

Yesterday, he stuttered and walked awkwardly, but today, he appeared completely normal—like he’d never been sick.

He still looked a bit pale, though.

I worried, but it seems he’s okay.

There’s a condition called osmotic demyelination syndrome.

If a patient’s hypernatremia is corrected too quickly or the nerve’s electrolyte balance suddenly changes, it can cause nerve damage.

But Mr. Eric looked fine.

“Yesterday, I threw up and had diarrhea for hours—it was exhausting. But after vomiting everything out and drinking lots of water, I feel much better. The dizziness is gone too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“When can I be discharged?”

Although I was concerned about potential neurological issues, none arose, which is fortunate. He should be able to leave once he’s fully recovered. There is one important matter, though.

“Why did you eat an entire jar of pickles?”

If the intent was suicide or if his judgment was so impaired that he couldn’t live safely on his own, discharge wouldn’t be possible.

Until we understood the reason, I wasn’t planning to let him go. Why did he eat those pickles?

Mr. Eric sighed.

“I guess coming to the hospital was unnecessary.”

“If you hadn’t come yesterday, you could’ve died—or become a severely disabled person with brain damage.”

“Was it that serious?”

“Your brain was essentially pickled due to excessive salt, impairing your judgment. It’s plausible.”

This patient was frustrating. Whether it was because his judgment was clouded yesterday or not, he didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the situation.

“Ah…”

“Just tell me what happened.”

The patient stared off into the distance.

“To be honest, I haven’t had a job for a while. Recently, I found new work, so I bought a jar of pickles—the cheapest, longest-lasting food—and ate them to my heart’s content…”

“I see.”

“If you knew you’d almost die, you wouldn’t have done that, right?”

At least there was a reason. I was worried it might’ve been self-harm or that he lacked any rational judgment—but it seems otherwise.

“Is this some new method of suicide?”

“No.”

Regardless of other issues, it’s fortunate. All I need to do is give him a warning.

“There’s no real need to say this, but please don’t eat pickles anymore, Mr… Anything in excess can kill you. Eat in moderation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Did you use the restroom? Electrolyte imbalances can affect your kidneys.”

“So many problems can arise?”

“Well, next time, don’t eat so much food at once. In fact, don’t do anything others wouldn’t. Why would you even attempt such a thing?”

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t need to apologize to me.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel pity for him. Why would anyone do something like this, causing unnecessary suffering for both sides? You could’ve died!

“Can you move your arms and legs properly? Any discomfort?”

“Yes.”

Thankfully, everything was corrected without issue. I turned to Istina.

“Istina, please document this in the medical record.”

Istina flipped through the chart.

“In that case, if you feel any pain, please let us know immediately. We’ll do our best to assist you.”

The treatment appears successful. He should be able to leave as early as tomorrow. Leaving the patient behind, we moved on to the next one.

****

The second patient.

“Istina, what do you think we need to consider regarding Sebastian’s case?”

“It’s bacterial, so infection control?”

“That’s right. But what exactly do we need to check?”

“Uh…”

The question is where the patient contracted meningitis. If we can find the source through questioning, great—but if not, there’s nothing we can do.

“We need to confirm whether the patient’s family, or even their dog or cat, caught a similar illness, right?”

Istina nodded vigorously.

“Yes!”

Actually, the likelihood of finding the exact source of infection is slim. We don’t have the equipment to identify bacteria or the means to conduct epidemiological investigations.

Still, we can at least ask.

After disinfecting our hands, we put on masks and approached Sebastian’s room.

Upon closer inspection…

Sebastian wasn’t a student at the Academy, unlike the previous impoverished patient. He had an appearance that suggested he came from a well-to-do background.

“Mr. Sebastian, are you feeling better?”

The patient nodded.

If he can nod now, it likely means the stiffness in his neck has improved.

I observed the patient more closely.

He appeared normal.

The patient wasn’t sweating profusely or showing signs of pain, and his consciousness seemed intact.

“Just… My headaches and dizziness have lessened significantly. Thank you very much.”

“That’s good.”

I didn’t expect him to recover so quickly after receiving antibiotics, but it’s a positive outcome.

In my past life, I did encounter meningitis cases, but they were usually in immunocompromised individuals or elderly people. This is the first time I’ve seen it in a young patient.

“By the way, why are you wearing masks? Is my condition dangerous? I heard professors can cure the Black Death…”

I shook my head.

“Don’t worry.”

“Oh, okay.”

“The treatment is going well, but there’s something we need to confirm. Meningococcal meningitis isn’t highly contagious, but it can spread between people and has a high mortality rate.”

“Am I going to survive?”

First, I need to reassure him. If I don’t promise survival beforehand, I won’t get any useful information.

“The treatment is progressing well, but we need to determine why you contracted this illness. Did you touch any animals recently?”

“No.”

Where on earth did this patient catch meningitis? I interrogated him for several minutes but gained no significant information.

“Oh, right.”

“What is it?”

“A few weeks ago, I had a really bad cold. Could that be the cause?”

It’s possible, but that would mean pneumonia caused by Streptococcus pneumoniae led to sepsis, which eventually progressed to meningitis.

What terrible luck.

“You should’ve come to the hospital if you had pneumonia. Now you’ve let the illness worsen unnecessarily.”

So… You didn’t come to the hospital during the stages of pneumonia or sepsis, and only arrived when it reached meningitis, meaning you didn’t suspect it earlier.

Bacterial meningitis is often caused by Streptococcus pneumoniae, which is relatively common in the environment but doesn’t always lead to meningitis.

This explanation seems most reasonable.

I took the medical record from Istina and noted the suspicious circumstances: pneumococcal infection leading to pneumonia, sepsis, and finally meningitis, culminating in hospitalization for treatment.

“In that case, thank you for your cooperation.”

Finally, it’s over.

Both patients were successfully treated and will be discharged once stabilized.

****

Sebastian blankly stared at the hospital ceiling. Was it really this easy to resolve?

The healer I saw last time said I had tuberculosis and needed a balloon inserted into my chest cavity to fix it. Thinking he was crazy, I ran away.

This time, I got better in just a day.

I need to figure out a way to express my gratitude. More importantly, rumors of miracle workers seem to be true after all…

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