"Who says that this old man won't live past midnight tonight?"
My words cut through the hospital hallway like a blade. The grieving family members looked up in shock. Dr. Finch's face darkened with indignation.
"Excuse me?" Dr. Finch stepped closer, his thirty years of medical authority radiating from every pore. "Did you just question my professional diagnosis?"
"I questioned your certainty about death," I replied calmly. "There's a difference."
The distinguished doctor's face flushed red. "Young man, do you have any idea who you're speaking to? I am Dr. Alistair Finch, chief of internal medicine at three major hospitals. I've treated presidents and prime ministers."
"Impressive resume," I said. "Still doesn't make you right about this case."
A younger doctor in the group stepped forward aggressively. "This is outrageous! Dr. Finch is one of the most respected physicians in the country. Who are you to challenge his expertise?"
"Dean Nash," Dr. Finch said quietly, his voice dangerously controlled. "Let me handle this."
Dean Adrian Nash backed down reluctantly, but his glare remained fixed on me. The other medical staff formed a protective semicircle around their senior colleague.
"Mr. Hayes," Dr. Finch continued, his tone now icy professional. "Since you seem to think you know better than the combined expertise of this hospital's finest physicians, perhaps you'd care to enlighten us with your credentials?"
The challenge hung in the air. Every eye in the hallway fixed on me. Evelyn's face was pale with worry. Chloe squeezed her niece's hand supportively.
"My credentials wouldn't impress you," I said simply. "They're not written on any diploma."
"How convenient," Dean Nash sneered. "No medical school, no residency, no board certifications. Just another quack with delusions of grandeur."
"Adrian," Dr. Finch raised a hand for silence. His weathered eyes studied me with renewed interest. "Mr. Hayes, are you claiming you can cure Victor Reed where we have failed?"
"I'm not claiming anything. I'm stating a fact."
The audacity of my response sent ripples of outrage through the medical staff. Whispered conversations erupted around us.
"Unbelievable," someone muttered.
"The arrogance of these alternative medicine charlatans."
"Security should remove him immediately."
Dr. Finch raised his hand again, and the hallway fell silent. "Mr. Hayes, I've spent three decades studying medicine. I've seen every kind of miracle cure and snake oil salesman imaginable. They all have one thing in common."
"Which is?"
"They prey on desperate families with impossible promises."
His words stung Evelyn visibly. She stepped closer to me, her voice tight with emotion. "Dr. Hayes helped my aunt today. Her heart condition completely disappeared after he treated her."
"Heart conditions can be psychosomatic," Dean Nash dismissed. "Stress, anxiety, lifestyle factors. None of that applies to multiple organ failure."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Chloe said sharply. "I've had myocarditis for three years. Real, diagnosed, chronic myocarditis. He cured it in minutes."
Dr. Finch's expression softened slightly when addressing Chloe. "Mrs. Reed, I understand your gratitude. But Victor's condition is far more complex than a heart irregularity."
Marcus Reed stepped forward, his exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "Dr. Finch is right. We can't afford to chase false hope when we should be saying our goodbyes."
"Uncle Marcus!" Evelyn's voice cracked with desperation.
"I'm sorry, Evelyn. But this young man has no medical training, no experience with cases like this. We need to face reality."
I looked at Marcus steadily. "Your reality is that your father dies tonight. My reality is different."
"Your reality?" Dr. Finch's patience finally snapped. "Young man, reality is based on facts, evidence, and medical science. Not wishful thinking."
"Then let me demonstrate some facts."
The challenge in my voice made everyone freeze. Dr. Finch's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What kind of facts?"
"Let me examine Victor Reed. Five minutes. If I can't tell you more about his condition than you already know, I'll leave immediately."
"Absolutely not," Dean Nash interjected. "We can't let some unqualified stranger near a dying patient."
"He's not a stranger," Evelyn said firmly. "He's here at my invitation."
"Miss Reed," Dr. Finch said gently, "your grandfather is in an extremely fragile state. Any disruption could accelerate his decline."
"He's already dying according to you," I pointed out. "What's the risk?"
Dr. Finch studied me for a long moment. Something in my eyes seemed to intrigue him despite his professional skepticism.
"You're serious about this examination?"
"Completely serious."
"And you believe five minutes is sufficient to understand a condition that has baffled our entire medical team?"
"More than sufficient."
The hallway buzzed with incredulous whispers. Dean Nash looked ready to physically remove me from the premises.
"This is insane," he muttered. "We're entertaining the delusions of a mountain peasant."
"Actually," Dr. Finch said slowly, "I'm curious to see what Mr. Hayes thinks he can accomplish."
Everyone stared at him in shock. His reputation for rigid professionalism was legendary.
"Dr. Finch," Dean Nash protested, "surely you're not considering—"
"I'm considering exactly that." Dr. Finch's eyes remained fixed on me. "Mr. Hayes, if I allow this examination, what exactly do you propose to do?"
"Observe. Listen. Understand."
"And then?"
"Then I'll know what's wrong with him."
"We already know what's wrong with him. Multiple organ failure secondary to autoimmune dysfunction."
"You know the symptoms," I corrected. "You don't know the cause."
Dr. Finch's eyebrows rose. "The cause is genetic predisposition combined with environmental factors triggering an autoimmune cascade."
"That's textbook theory. I'm talking about the real cause."
"Which is?"
"Let me examine him, and I'll tell you."
The medical staff exchanged incredulous glances. This was beyond anything they'd encountered in their professional careers.
"Dr. Finch," Dean Nash said urgently, "this man could be dangerous. We have no idea what methods he might use."
"What methods will you use?" Dr. Finch asked me directly.
"Observation. Nothing invasive, nothing that could harm him."
"Just observation?"
"Traditional Chinese medicine has a technique called 'Diagnosis through Observation.' It involves reading the patient's condition through external signs."
"Acupuncture meridians and energy flows?" Dean Nash scoffed. "Mystical nonsense."
"Not mystical. Systematic. Based on thousands of years of documented medical practice."
Dr. Finch was quiet for several moments, his mind working behind tired eyes. The family waited anxiously for his decision.
"Dr. Finch," Marcus said carefully, "is this wise? Father is so weak already."
"Uncle Marcus is right," Evelyn said, though her voice was conflicted. "If there's any chance this could hurt grandfather..."
"It won't hurt him," I said simply. "I give you my word."
"Your word?" Dean Nash laughed harshly. "The word of someone with no medical credentials whatsoever?"
"The word of someone who's never lost a patient."
The absolute confidence in my statement silenced the hallway. Dr. Finch studied me with new intensity.
"Never lost a patient?" he asked quietly.
"Never."
"How many patients have you treated?"
"Enough to know what I'm doing."
Dean Nash stepped forward aggressively. "This is ridiculous! Dr. Finch, we can't let hospital policy be dictated by some charlatan's empty boasts."
"They're not empty boasts," Chloe said firmly. "I'm living proof of his abilities."
"One case doesn't establish medical competence," Dean Nash shot back.
"Then let's establish it properly," Dr. Finch said suddenly.
Everyone turned to stare at him. His expression had shifted from skepticism to something resembling scientific curiosity.
"Dr. Finch?" Dean Nash's voice was uncertain.
"Mr. Hayes, you claim you can diagnose Victor Reed's condition through observation alone?"
"Yes."
"Without examining him directly? Without running tests or reviewing his medical history?"
"I don't need his medical history. His body will tell me everything I need to know."
Dr. Finch nodded slowly. "Very well. Here's my proposition."
The hallway went dead silent. Even the distant sounds of hospital activity seemed to fade.
"I'll give you your five minutes with Victor Reed. But first, you'll demonstrate this 'Diagnosis through Observation' technique right here."
"How?"
"Tell me about Victor Reed's medical history. Not what's in his current chart, but his lifetime health patterns. Injuries, illnesses, anything significant."
The challenge was clear. Prove my abilities before risking the patient's life.
I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself the way my master had taught me. When I opened them, my vision had sharpened to the point where I could read the subtle signs others missed.
"Victor Reed," I began, my voice clear and confident. "Seventy-three years old. Broke his left leg at age twelve, poorly healed, still causes him pain on rainy days."
Marcus Reed's eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that?"
"Appendectomy at twenty-two. Coronary bypass surgery eight years ago. Kidney stones treated twice, once at forty-five and again at sixty."
Dr. Finch's expression grew more serious with each accurate detail.
"He's been taking blood pressure medication for fifteen years, but stopped three months ago because it was making him dizzy."
"That's impossible," Dean Nash whispered. "You can't know that without examining him."
"Chronic lower back pain from a car accident in his forties. He disguises the limp well, but it's there. And he's been having vision problems in his left eye for the past six months."
Dr. Finch's face had gone pale. "Mr. Hayes, everything you've said is documented in his medical records."
"I haven't seen his medical records."
"Then how—"
"Diagnosis through Observation. The human body keeps a record of every injury, every illness, every trauma. You just have to know how to read it."
The medical staff stared at me in stunned silence. Dean Nash looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"This is impossible," he muttered. "You can't diagnose someone's entire medical history just by looking at them."
"I just did."
Dr. Finch stepped closer, his professional composure cracking. "Mr. Hayes, what you've described requires access to decades of medical records."
"It requires observation skills that Western medicine has forgotten."
"You're claiming traditional Chinese medicine can accomplish what modern diagnostic equipment cannot?"
"I'm not claiming anything. I'm demonstrating it."
Evelyn grabbed my arm, her eyes bright with hope. "Does this mean you can really help grandfather?"
"It means I can see what's wrong with him. And if I can see it, I can fix it."
Dr. Finch was quiet for a long moment, his mind processing what he'd witnessed. Finally, he looked up at me with grudging respect.
"Mr. Hayes, I've been practicing medicine for thirty years. What you just demonstrated challenges everything I thought I knew about diagnostic medicine."
"Knowledge comes in many forms, Dr. Finch. Western medicine has its strengths. But it's not the only path to healing."
"No," he admitted slowly. "Perhaps it isn't."
Dean Nash looked between us in disbelief. "Dr. Finch, you can't be serious about letting this man treat Mr. Reed."
"Adrian," Dr. Finch said quietly, "shut up."
The younger doctor's mouth snapped closed in shock.
Dr. Finch turned back to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and determination. "Mr. Hayes, I'm going to do something I've never done in my entire career."
"Which is?"
"I'm going to let you prove your claims. You'll have your chance to treat Victor Reed."
The family erupted in a mixture of hope and concern. Marcus looked torn between desperation and fear.
"Dr. Finch," he said carefully, "are you certain this is wise?"
"I'm not certain of anything anymore," Dr. Finch replied. "But I am certain that our current approach isn't working."
He turned to face me directly, his expression grave. "Mr. Hayes, I'm giving you the opportunity to save a man's life. But understand this clearly."
"I'm listening."
"I will take full responsibility for this decision. If Victor Reed dies because of your treatment, his death will be on my head, not yours."
The weight of his words settled over the hallway like a heavy blanket. Everyone understood the stakes now.
"And if he lives?" I asked.
Dr. Finch's weathered face showed the first hint of a smile he'd displayed all evening.
"If he lives, Mr. Hayes, then you'll have taught this old doctor that there's still more to learn about the practice of medicine."