7 Patients Novels & Stories

As I stated earlier, neither can we give them a false hope of a full recovery, nor can we make them feel that we are going to treat them as lab rats. It was difficult, but after two years of thorough visitations and counselling, three patients agreed to take this chance. One of them has been completely bedridden for more than three years. “That’s why we need skilled counsellors to talk with patients first.” Ryan, the second core member after me, spoke with a serious expression.

Others. “How many surgeries in that cycle?” Xavier asked quietly. “Seven,” I replied. Thomas answered immediately. “We’re pulling records.” Seconds later, a file appeared on my screen. Seven patients. Seven stabilization units. Seven recalibrations under Victor Hale in year three. My stomach tightened. “Scan the others remotely,” I said. “Working,” Thomas replied. One by one, encrypted medical imaging streamed through. Case one. Embedded structure confirmed. Case two. Confirmed. Case three— Confirmed.

The room fell silent. Evelyn felt the air leave her lungs. “You mean they died.” The doctor nodded quietly. “Yes.” Silas continued playing across the room, completely unaware of the conversation happening around him. Damian’s voice grew colder. “How many subjects were there?” The doctor scrolled through the tablet. “Seventeen.” “And how many survived?” The doctor looked up slowly. “Only one patient record remains active.” Evelyn’s heart pounded harder. “Which one?” The doctor turned the screen toward them.

She stopped again. "Already dying," Aria said. "Yes." "How many in that category." "Seven. Maybe eight." She said it clinically. The armor of it. "The compression put too much strain on certain systems. Nothing I do changes the timeline for them." Aria thought about Mela. About shadows and silver marks and a two-day-old rewriting what was supposedly fixed. She didn't say anything about that yet. "Start with the sixty who are sick," she said. "Stable ones first. Triage. Tell Vessel who needs what and she'll find it or find someone who can." She stood. "You're not a liar. You were scared. Those are different."

That specificity was what ruled out natural disease conclusively. Natural infections were indiscriminate. They went where they could go, spread by contact or proximity or shared resource. This did not spread by contact. It spread by the specific network of connections that existed because of the healing work that had been done. Edan came to find her on the eighth morning with the look that meant he had something. "Patient seven," he said. Patient seven was a wolf named Geral, fifty-one years old, currently in the moderate stage of the poisoning. He had been treated six times by the network over the past four years for various conditions—none of them related to each other, all of them straigh

the young man greeted with a bow, “a number of the villagers are camped at the palace gate and have refused to go home until they speak with you.” “On what accounts?” “Apparently, many of the infected patients were sent home today. The doctors claimed that the hospital was overflowing with patients, and they did a random selection of those to keep and those to send home. Many of the patients were sent home, hence, the camping at the gate. Three of the patients passed out before my eyes, and I'm certain that that may still be happening as we speak, Alpha.” “How many of the patients did you say are there? Outside the gate, I mean.” The guard ran his eyes from my disheveled hair down to my legs

He has some muscle wastage from his time in his coma, even with physiotherapy throughout it, so his father is doing his best to support him. "How did you know?" Avery teases jokingly, responding with some emoticons of her own. "Who else can speak fluent emoji?" Hayden chuckles, kissing Toby's forehead and looking around the room. The room is full of happy families and couples. Everyone is trying not to cry; everyone cuddled up and talking as fast as they can. Nurses are checking blood pressure and running basic cognitive tests while the patients sit up in bed. Out of the thirty patients, York is the only one not awake.

I heard Lionel asking the doctor. "It's hard to say. It could be as short as a couple of days, or as long as a year or two, or it could be for life." I wanted to hear more and was about to creep closer when two nurses walked passed me and blocked my view. "Do you know about patient Number Seven in Room 1008? She can't afford the hospital fees, so she's getting discharged today." "Oh! Are you talking about the slave?" "Yes! That one!" The two nurses continued chatting as they passed me, and I tried to glean more from their words when suddenly, Lionel was back.

I exhale with relief when I hear that there were no casualties amongst those who made it to us – everyone who needed to get to a hospital did. “We have a limited number of patients left, all from the military,” dad says, his voice low and steady. “All patients from the Children of Solace have been sent on to face their next steps, whatever those are. If you consent to it, I’ll keep the ones who are still here in place while they recuperate and wait for their next orders. Two or three days of rest should see them all on their feet.” “That’s all good,” Ethan says, looking down at some paperwork on his desk. “We’ll double-check the figures, but preliminarily, that sounds fine.”

Although, confused by the sudden unrelated question, Georgia still answered him honestly. “Heart rupture was my third. The first two were brain tumor and kidney transplant–they are all alive and recovering.” Georgia answered with her chin up. She had to let them know that she’s confident and is saying the truth. Ever since 1 in the morning, Georgia had already been working. She technically has seven patients that needed her operation today! Yet these people had the balls to intervene.