Another day passed. This is a rare family reunion in the past week. In addition to my wife, my parents were also in the ICU. The two hands of the old couple were clasped tightly together, and it seemed that there was a lot of psychological pressure.

"You have more than four million in that card. After a moment of silence, my wife took out a bank statement and put it in front of me for me to see. "Where did you get all this money?"

How much? Four million? I was stunned. I didn't know exactly how much money I would have earned, but they seemed pretty sure that I wouldn't be able to make such a surplus.

"No, I remember. "I'm in the state where I'm now, and I speak flawlessly. Anyway, even if you want to panic, you can't express it. However, this also brings serious side effects - speaking in this state, the probability of others believing is also reduced a lot.

"Son...... "Mom said tremblingly beside her, "You have money...... If it's not the right way, don't dare to move!"

"I, now, this, state. I said helplessly, "Shooting, it's all counted, relieved." Also, what's there to worry about?"

I'm lying half-dead in the ICU, and the first question you're concerned about is whether there's a problem with where the money comes from? This question can't be pondered in detail, and the more you think about it, the more angry you become. Even if there is a problem with the source of the money, is it useful for you to worry about this now?

How can you not tell the priorities of things?

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In the hospital, a lot of things outside have become insignificant. What workplace relationship, what career prospects, and even what face dignity, those are all trivial. I feel like I'm lucky, at least I don't have to be like the guy next door, who has inexplicable pain all over my body, and it hurts so much that painkillers don't work.

He's been wailing in the hospital bed next to me for three days. At first, the doctors installed him with some kind of "self-controlled" pain-relieving infusion pump. I could hear it clearly, it had a switch that made a "drip" sound when pressed and the painkiller pump pumped medicine into his body.

When the doctor handed him the painkiller, I heard a series of dense "drip" sounds. And then there's the doctor's reluctant explanation that there's a limit to the amount of input this thing can put in in a given amount of time.

Until yesterday, I was able to talk to the patient next door. But since this morning, he has stopped responding to my questions. I just heard from Dr. Sun that the poor ghost was induced into some kind of chemical coma. Two days ago, I was glad I didn't have to suffer as much as he did. And now, I envy him a little - a person in a coma can't feel anything.

"Also, how did you tell Schumann that you were going to the general ward?" I was habitually diverging my thoughts here, and my father suddenly opened his mouth and asked, "Don't be foolish, we have asked the doctor, and you can cure it." ”

"Now, comfort, there is no point. "I didn't bother to continue the discussion with them - I was afraid that my eyeballs would blow up if we continued to talk. "Stable, go, ordinary, ward, risk, can, control. ”

Anyway, if you ask me to explain my choice in detail now, that's impossible. In a short sentence, the meaning is probably there. For me anyway, it really doesn't make much sense to continue the treatment. Being a healthy waste person or dying early and surviving, and at the same time leaving a lot of money for the family to live, it seems that there is no need to think about which of the two options to choose.

Since Dr. Sun said that I was at risk of infection when I went to the general ward, wasn't that what I wanted?

"That's it, that's it. I said slowly, "You guys, all go back, I think, rest for a while." ”

I closed my eyes and did not respond at all to their inquiries and persuasions. When this man is lying in bed and unable to move, it is difficult to understand himself. But then again, if I can still move, why bother trying to kill myself?

I find it a little boring. After lying here for more than ten days, the thoughts that popped up in my head became more and more boring.

This god, who doesn't have long eyes, can't I have a little more fun for the sake of me being ready to die?

After a while, I heard the young doctor's voice again. "Do you think you're completely hopeless?"

I opened my eyes, "You're you, doctor." This kind of thing, shouldn't it, it's you, tell me?"

"You don't believe me when I say it. Dr. Sun's words also sounded a little helpless, "I'm still looking for evidence, but ...... Have you ever felt like the thoughts in your head have become ...... lately? Not so annoying?"

I was stunned for a moment, and didn't bother to speak.

"These strange thoughts of yours, on the one hand, prove that your frontal lobe is damaged, and on the other hand, I suspect that it has something to do with your current state. There have been cases of locked-in syndrome due to damage to the frontal lobes. ”

I opened my eyes, but unfortunately, most of Dr. Sun's body was out of my sight. I could barely see his shoulder.

"Your current brain damage and locked-in syndrome is due to a car accident. But part of the reason is that the blood supply to the brain is insufficient. Dr. Sun continued to tell me about his diagnosis, and I began to believe his words - if he just wanted to persuade me to continue living in the ICU for treatment and cheating money, he just had to say something simply: "The cause has been found, and we are confident that it will be cured". There's no need to make up such a long story to fool me.

Of course, how much of this change of thinking is because I don't want to die yet...... I can't say for sure.

"You have an open fracture of the femur in your right leg. Dr. Sun continued, "When a long bone is fractured, a lot of fat enters the circulatory system. One of the more common problems in this patient is fat embolism syndrome. Your luck is that the fat doesn't embolize in the capillaries of your lungs, they get stuck in your right frontal lobe and basal ganglia. ”

"Now, what's the use of saying this?" I listened a little impatiently, "after all, you, still, can't be cured, me." ”

"I may not be able to cure you. When Dr. Sun admitted that he was incompetent, he acted very naturally, and he didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. "But if you don't let me give it a try and don't cooperate with my treatment plan, you're going to die. Which one would you choose, between certain death and certain cure?"

I was silent, not knowing how to answer the question.

"Drugs against fat plugs are not hard to find, they are all readily available. It's just that because your frontal lobes are damaged, we haven't found any imaging evidence. Dr. Sun suddenly said, "But considering that you have a tendency to give up treatment, I will secretly tell you about the current situation - as long as you are willing to undergo a confirmatory treatment, I will go out to your family to sign later." There is no risk to you from the treatment itself, and if you do not respond to the treatment, the worst case scenario is nothing more than two days later and then transferred to a general ward to wait for death, which is not a loss for you. ”

"If, I, yes, treatment, does not respond. I thought about it for a while and said to Dr. Sun, "Then, I hope you can help me." ”

"Help?" Dr. Sun was stunned for a moment, then stood up abruptly.

"Yes, help me. I said seriously, "Now, I can't do it myself." You come, help me. I tried to look at Dr. Sun's face with the peripheral vision of my eyes, and said, "I'm allergic, peanuts." ”

He was silent for a long time, so long that I wondered if I was deaf. Then, I heard the answer I wanted.

"Good. Dr. Sun nodded, "I'll help you." ”