American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

"Interventional embolization".

Park Jung-woo pointed to the osteolytic area on the CT scan, "Look at these proliferating blood vessels; they are the blood supply system that the lesion depends on for survival."

"My plan involves two steps. First, we will collaborate with the interventional radiology department to perform preoperative embolization to reduce blood supply to the lesion area."

"Then I will perform the surgical removal of the lesion in the scapula. Preoperative embolization can significantly reduce the risk of intraoperative bleeding, which is already a well-established procedure in spinal tumor surgery."

What is the success rate?

"I have participated in four similar cases of embolization of vascular malformations, and the results were all ideal."

Elena had heard similar phrases far too many times in court.

"Participated" can mean either being the lead surgeon or simply standing by and watching.

She leaned back against the pillows. Today she had seen three doctors and heard three different treatment plans.

One needs to be cut.

One has to wait.

One needs to be blocked.

No one had ever told her what kind of illness it was.

Perhaps, they themselves don't know...

As Park Jung-woo stood up to leave, she called out to him.

"Dr. Park."

"Um?"

"I did some research myself. There's a disease called Gorham-Stott disease, commonly known as anabolic osteodystrophy. Do you think it's possible?"

Park Jung-woo turned around, his expression subtle.

It's a unique discomfort that arises when a layman steps into your area of ​​expertise.

"There are fewer than 300 reported cases of that disease worldwide. For a young woman like you at 26, the probability is negligible."

He chuckled. "What you find through Google searches or by asking AI is not the same as a clinical diagnosis. I suggest you focus your energy on cooperating with the treatment."

Park Jung-woo turned to leave, and when he opened the ward door, he almost bumped into the person standing outside.

"Hey, isn't this our 'acting' resident physician? What brings you here to offer your guidance?"

"Take a look at the patient." Lynn ignored his sarcasm.

Park Jung-woo scoffed.

"This case is already being followed by three specialists: Prescott and Garrett, both specializing in bone tumors, plus myself. You're just a resident, you don't even have independent surgical authority, what gives you the right?"

Lynn opened the tablet in her hand and turned the screen towards Park Jung-woo.

Two electronic consultation forms are clearly displayed in the hospital's EMR system.

One initiative was launched by Dr. Victoria Vanderbilt, and the other by Dr. Julian Cabot.

The reason for the consultation was written exactly the same: Please have Chief Resident Lynn participate in the diagnosis and treatment assessment of patient Elena Reyes, which includes ward rounds, physical examinations and treatment plan discussions.

Park Jung-woo stared at the screen, the muscles at the corner of his eye twitching slightly.

"Using the attending physician's authorization to steal patients, do you think that sounds good if word gets out?"

"Whether it sounds good or not, this is the standard consultation procedure in hospitals."

Lynn put away the tablet and calmly met Park Jung-woo's bloodshot eyes.

"But Dr. Park, you are a specialist in spinal surgery. The patient's lesion is mainly in the scapula. As long as it does not clearly involve the thoracic spine, your intervention is considered to be outside your area of ​​expertise."

Park Jung-woo's breath hitched.

Lynn hit his weak spot perfectly.

"You can't save people by just talking."

Park Jung-woo uttered a harsh remark through gritted teeth, "When it really comes time to go on stage, let's see if you can still be so composed."

After saying that, he gripped the tablet tightly and walked away quickly without looking back.

Lynn was no stranger to people like Park Jung-woo.

He had seen too many top-three students in China in his previous life.

A test-taker from a small town, scoring over 600 points on the college entrance exam.

I barely made it into a mid-tier 985 university for an eight-year clinical program, completed standardized residency training, and then entered a top-tier hospital. I worked my way up from resident physician to doctor.

I arrive at the department at 6 a.m. every morning and leave at 11 p.m. every night.

Voluntarily take night shifts that others are unwilling to take, and voluntarily take emergency cases that others have turned down.

Every SCI paper published was worth just over three points; not a single one was wasted.

The materials for the professional title evaluation were packed into three folders, and each item was just one centimeter above the passing grade.

What these kinds of people fear most is not failure, but being cut in line.

If you ask Lynn why he knows so much about it, it's because he used to be one of them.

Now he's the one cutting in line.

The resident doctors would say in private that Park Jung-woo's veins weren't filled with blood, but with Americano coffee.

There are even rumors that he has started taking central nervous system stimulants.

Commonly known as "smart drugs," one pill can keep you working for dozens of hours straight and maintain high concentration.

The original owner of Lynn's body had decent grades, but in the extremely competitive Asian community, he was only considered average.

Park Jung-woo disliked him, not as a personal grudge, but as a grudge against anyone who tried to take shortcuts to get ahead of him.

Of course, those noble gentlemen who were already flying in the sky were different; they didn't follow the same path, so there was no issue of cutting in line.

Lynn closed the ward door and walked towards Elena.

She leaned against the headboard, her right arm still secured with a triangular bandage, her eyes filled with exhaustion and wariness.

"Ms. Reyes."

"Another one? Can't you all come together?"

Lynn pulled out the folding chair in front of the hospital bed and sat down. Unlike the previous three doctors, he didn't rush to look through the medical records. Instead, he looked Elena straight in the eye.

"When I applied to medical school, my score had to be significantly higher than that of white students to even get an interview."

"It's the same in the hospital. If a resident makes a mistake, the supervising doctor won't say, 'This resident lacks experience.' They'll think, 'Asians only know how to study by rote and lack clinical intuition.'"

"In this country, minorities like us have to put in ten times the effort to climb to the top, and we can't afford to make even the slightest mistake."

Hearing about Lynn's experiences, Elena's tense shoulders relaxed, and the wariness in her eyes lessened.

"So I was very surprised when I saw your medical records."

Lynn looked at her. "A Dominican girl who grew up in the Bronx, who got a job at Aldridge Law Firm in her first year after graduating from Fordham Law School."

"You're far more capable than us so-called Asian test-takers. You've carved out a bloody path for yourself in this game designed for white elites."

The ward fell silent.

She grew up under her mother's high-pressure education and was always afraid of making a wrong move.

You won't be praised if you get first place in the whole school, but you'll be scolded severely if you make a small mistake.

At that moment, the affirmation from an Asian doctor in a similar situation precisely struck the most hidden soft spot in her heart.

"You're afraid that once you're on the operating table, everything you've worked so hard to achieve will vanish like that gradually disappearing shoulder blade..."

Lynn then made a timely request, "I understand your concerns, which is why I'm even more eager to heal you. May I examine your shoulder?"

Elena hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded and turned slightly to the side.

Lynn put on gloves and gently pressed his fingertips on the projection area of ​​his right scapula.

He carefully sensed the subcutaneous tissue.

If it were a malignant bone tumor, as Prescott suspected, with such extensive bone destruction, the surrounding soft tissue should form a hard, poorly defined solid mass.

But the sensation from the fingertips is completely different.

The skin temperature was not high, and was even slightly cooler than the opposite side.

There was no redness or swelling, and no burning sensation as is typical of acute inflammation.

The swollen area has a soft texture, with blurred borders that migrate outwards, and a distinct undulating sensation when pressed deeply...

Lynn withdrew her hand, took off her glove, and threw it into the medical waste bin.

"Dr. Lin..."

Elena spoke tentatively in a soft voice, "I mentioned to Dr. Park before that I came across a condition called Golem-Stott syndrome, also known as anabolic osteodystrophy, in my research. Do you think it's possible?"