Chapter 46 fifteen murderers

There is always an air of mystery about conclave meetings of medical professionals.People might wonder how secretive they are at parties, because they don't want outsiders to find out how much they know and don't know. The most mysterious gathering of doctors in the past 20 or 30 years was a gathering of a group of famous doctors in New York City who called themselves the Aix Society.For twenty years, this small group of doctors held meetings behind closed doors at the Walton Hotel every three months until dawn, not knowing what to do. The most recent meeting of the Aix Society, which was very impressive, took place on a dreary rainy night in March.Despite the bad weather, none of the fourteen members was absent, because the meeting had a special attraction.A new member, the fifteenth member, will join the club at this meeting.As a recognized medical genius, Dr. Samuel Warner was unusually young.Now being elected as a member of the X Club is the greatest proof of his superb medical skills.Because the fourteen doctors who invited him to join and were older than him were all leaders in various disciplines.To be honest, half of the members are famous contemporary doctors whom Dr. Warner sincerely admires.

After exchanging pleasantries with those famous doctors, Dr. Warner sat in the corner and silently declined all whiskey, cocktails and brandy.His face was always tense, and his vigorous body sat upright, as if he was not attending a meeting, but was in a good posture to run away. At exactly nine o'clock, Dr. Dick, a respected diagnostician, announced a meeting of the Aix Society. "Doctor Warner," he began, "the society has only one goal. The members of the society meet every three months, and anyone who has killed someone since the last meeting must make a public confession at the meeting.

"Of course I said put to death—but it would be new if any of us would admit that it was from hatred and not from stupidity. Our concern is that the sick could have lived, but He was killed by mistake because the attending doctor made a wrong diagnosis, or took the wrong medicine, or had a wrong surgical procedure." "I know this is my first meeting," Warner murmured anxiously, as his voice grew louder, "but I have something really important to say." "Killed?" Dick asked him. "Yes," Warner said. "Very good," the old professor nodded, "We are willing to listen. However, there are still two murderers in front of you to deal with."

It was at this point that several members noticed that the young surgeon's nervousness was more than just stage fright.Everyone affirmed that Warner had first come to the XXX meeting with a mysterious passion. Dr. Curtiff, a distinguished psychiatrist, put his hand on Warner's arm and said softly, "We've all made bigger mistakes—whatever they were." "It's all right for you to comfort Warner, Curtiff, but please keep quiet," snapped old Dick. "This isn't a sanatorium for the sick of conscience. It's a mismanaged clinic. We The object is to do scientific research. The first case tonight," went on old Dick, "is to be presented by Dr. Davies."

The room was silent when the mild-mannered stomach specialist stood up. "Late last summer I was called to the home of Holloway, an auto assembler," he began, "and Senator Bell invited the poorer families in his constituency to a picnic. Afterwards, three of the Holloway children got food poisoning. The Senator felt himself responsible as master, and I went to his house at his plea. I found the two older children, nine and eleven years old, vomiting very badly. Their mother had put three Show me a list of what the first child has eaten. The list is long. I prescribed a large dose of castor oil. The third child was only seven years old and was not as sick as his brothers. Pale, a little feverish, and slightly dizzy, but not throwing up. Looks like he has food poisoning too, but it's milder. Just to be on the safe side, I gave him the same amount of castor bean oil.

"At midnight, the children's father called and said that the two older ones were making great progress, but the younger one was alarming him. I told him not to worry, the youngest was a bit slow, and by morning his The condition will definitely get better. After listening to the phone, I secretly rejoiced: I gave him castor bean oil as a precaution. The next day I found that the two older children were almost cured, but the seven-year-old was even more ill. The temperature was as high as Forty degrees Celsius, dehydrated, sunken eyes, dark circles, pained expression, flaring nostrils, blue lips, cold and sticky skin."

Dr. Davis stopped here. Morris, a renowned pulmonary specialist, spoke up and asked, "Did he die within a few hours?" Dr. Davis nodded. "Well," said Dr. Morris calmly, "he probably had acute appendicitis when you first saw him. The castor-bean oil had ruptured their appendicum, and by the time you saw him again peritonitis had set in." .” "Yes," said Dr. Davis slowly, "that's exactly what happened." "Killing with castor oil," laughed old Dick. "Now, Dr. Wood, you speak." The famous Scottish surgeon stood up. "Well," he said, turning to his colleague, the new member, "you know what it's like to have acute cholecystitis, Samuel. The patient was brought in late at night. The upper right quarter of the abdomen The pain was unbearable, in the back and right shoulder, and it was obvious that the gallbladder had been perforated. I operated on her right away, but there was nothing wrong with the gallbladder. An hour later she was dead."

"What about the autopsy?" asked Dr. Sweeney. "Wait," replied Wood, "that is for you to infer." "Have you looked at her medical records?" Dr. Curtiff asked hesitantly. "No," Wood replied, "it was an emergency." "Aha!" snorted Dick. "That's right! Guessing again. Dr. Wood killed a woman patient because he misunderstood the source of the pain. The pain our first surgeon described, except cholecystitis, What other reason is there?" "Heart," Dr. Morris blurted out. "You're right," said Wood, "that the autopsy showed a blockage in the descending branch of the right coronary artery."

"Quacks kill," said old Dick angrily. "Gentlemen, we learn nothing from these childish homicides, except that stupidity can do harm under the guise of science. But here is a young and very Brilliant surgeon, I can assure you that if he had ever killed, it would have been a marvelous case. He sat there fidgeting like a true criminal, in a cold sweat of guilt, wanting to put his The guilt is clear. Gentlemen, I now give the floor to our youngest new convict, Dr. Samuel Warner." Dr. Warner mopped his neck with his wet handkerchief. "The patient was a young man, seventeen years old, with incredible talent," Warner said. "He wrote poetry. He had been ill for two weeks when I was asked to come. I saw him in that condition and sent him to the Hospital. First, he had severe pain on the left side of the abdomen. He wanted to ask me to treat him, but the stomach pain disappeared after three days. He thought he had recovered.

"However, after two days, the pain came back, and he started to have a fever and diarrhea. When I was asked to go, there was pus and blood in his stool, but there was no amoeba or pathogenic bacteria. After reading the pathology report, I diagnosed it as ulcerative Colitis. According to the symptoms, it does not look like appendicitis. I prescribed Azarfardin for him and only let him drink clear soup. After this treatment, the condition worsened. There was tenderness in the whole abdomen. I treated him carefully for two days Within a week, he died without treatment." "The autopsy proved you wrong?" asked Dr. Wood.

"I didn't do an autopsy," Warner said. "The parents believed in me very much, and so did the child. They all thought I did everything I could to save his life." "Then how do you know you're wrong?" Dr. Hume asked. "It's the simple fact," Warner said angrily, "that I didn't cure the patient. I killed him because of a wrong diagnosis." "A logical conclusion," Dr. Sweeney said. "Guys," Dick said, giggling from where he sat, "our brilliant newcomer has apparently killed a great poet. Now accuse him of something wrong with his diagnosis." No one said a word.Warner's tense expression convinced them that there was something hidden about the poet's death, and they discussed this issue cautiously. "How long has the patient been dead?" Dr. Rosen asked. "Last Wednesday," replied Dr. Warner, "what do you ask for?" "You say the parents trust you," said Curtiff, "but we find it odd that you look like you're worried about something. Did the police investigate?" "No," Warner said, "I've done it perfectly. Even you don't seem to be able to overturn my diagnosis." The sudden challenge angered some members. "There's something else going on here," Wood said slowly, keeping his eyes on Warner. "The only strange thing," Warner replied quickly, "is the complexity of the illness. You obviously like simple and clear murder cases, just like the few we heard just now." Sweeney said softly: "Dr. Warner's diagnosis is a good example of a hasty conclusion without his careful study. The symptoms he describes can point to many diseases." Warner blushed. "Can you back up your insult with a little scientific evidence?" he asked. "You said that one of the last signs was tenderness all over the abdomen," said Dr. Davies, "and that indicated peritonitis." "Probably a perforation, not an ulcer," Dr. Sweeney added. Dr. Warner wiped his face again with his wet handkerchief and said softly, "It never occurred to me that a foreign body perforated." "You should have thought of that," said Dr. Curtiff, laughing. "Come on, come on," put in old Dick, "let's not digress. What could cause a piercing?" "He was seventeen when he died," Curtiff replied, "and didn't swallow a needle like a child." "Then," said Dr. Wood, "nine times out of ten it won't be a chicken bone either. The chicken bone will probably get stuck in the esophagus and not go into the stomach." "Warner," said old Dick, "we've narrowed it down. Extending tenderness may indicate an expanding infection. From the point of view of the disease, it may be a perforation rather than an ulcer. This perforation indicates that the patient What was ingested, we've ruled out needles and chicken bones, which leaves us with an obvious guess." "A fishbone," said Dr. Sweeney. "Exactly," said old Dick. Warner stood up and listened nervously to the chorus of affirmation of the diagnosis.Dick read the judge's verdict. "I think we all agree," he said, "that Samuel Warner killed his patients because he treated them for ulcerative colitis. He could have saved them simply by removing the festering fishbone by operating on them." His life was lost." Warner walked across the room in two steps in three steps to the closet where he hung his coats and hats. "Where are you going?" Dr. Wood called him from behind. "Our meeting has just begun." Warner smiled as he put on his coat. "I don't have much time. You're right, there's something odd about this case. It's that my patient is still alive. I've been treating him for ulcerative colitis for two weeks, and it dawned on me this afternoon that my diagnosis was wrong. —Unless I can find out the real cause of his illness, he will die within twenty-four hours. Thank you for the diagnosis of this disease, with which I can save the life of my patient." Half an hour later, members of the X Club stood in St. Michael's Hospital and watched Warner perform the operation.No one said a word.Time passed minute by minute.The nurse quietly handed the surgical instruments to Warner.Their hands were covered with blood. Fourteen medical experts stared hopefully at the face of a teenager who had swallowed a fishbone and lost consciousness due to pain.No king or pope had so many famous doctors around him with bated breath. Suddenly Warner, sweating profusely, raised his gloved hand with something between his fingers. "Wash it up," he whispered to the nurse, "and show it to gentlemen." Old Dick stepped forward and took the thing from the nurse. "A fishbone," he said. Members of the X Club gathered around the fishbone like it was an indescribable treasure. Three weeks later, the patient had fully recovered.