Chapter 26: At Wit's End

Once Song Tian finished his conversation, he called out to Xu Chen, intending to find the doctor to learn the true state of his father’s condition.

The doctor seemed to take Song’s father’s case very seriously. He was processing paperwork in the physician’s office at the nursing station, so they found him easily. He was a middle-aged man. Xu Chen glanced at the promotional board on the wall, noting that the doctor held a master's degree.

When Song Tian explained why they were there, the doctor did not refuse. He sighed, searched through the documents he had just organized, and produced a sheet of handwritten records.

"We take your father’s condition very seriously. We even invited a professor from the Tianping Oncology Hospital to consult, but the situation is not optimistic..."

Xu Chen looked at the doctor, feeling somewhat surprised. Tianping Oncology Hospital was a top-tier institution with deep expertise in cancer and tumors. Supported not only by a military research institute but also by three elite universities, it was arguably among the best in the world for tumor treatment. Bringing them in suggested that the progression of Song’s father’s illness was atypical, necessitating outside intervention.

"The patient has one foot in the acute phase. Soon, there will be symptoms of internal bleeding and splenomegaly. Furthermore, should an infection occur, there will be no way to save him."

"And what about his thigh?"

The doctor looked at Xu Chen in surprise, and even Song Tian looked at him, confused. "Huh? What’s wrong with my dad’s leg?"

"He may have developed femoral bone lesions due to the disease. I have discussed these lesions with the orthopedic oncology specialist. For now, there are no signs of immediate danger to his body; the bone marrow remains normal. It appears to be simple osteophyte formation, which doesn't require intervention."

Xu Chen understood the doctor's subtext. If this were a healthy person, they would certainly treat such bone growth. But for a patient in the acute phase, it was neither worthwhile nor viable. First, the patient could deteriorate at any moment, making the investment a waste of money with a low return. Second, the patient’s body could not withstand it; if they operated, any resulting infection or bleeding would essentially be a death sentence.

"I noticed several bottles of the same medication on the bedside table?"

"Oh, we discontinued those. They were ineffective, so there was no need to continue them."

"Then, how will you proceed with the treatment?"

The doctor fell silent. He was stumped by Xu Chen’s question, as he himself had no idea what the next course of treatment should be—he was completely out of options.

Song Tian sensed the doctor’s predicament and immediately guessed why. His voice trembled: "Then... is there any hope for my father?"

The doctor nodded. "I will do my best."

Xu Chen watched the doctor and suddenly fell silent, recalling something his professor had said in class: "There are actually very few diseases that humans can truly cure. Once you become a physician, you will realize that you can cure almost nothing."

At the time, Xu Chen had scoffed, believing the massive increase in human life expectancy was a testament to medical progress and that such a statement must be false. Only now did he understand. It wasn't that his teacher hadn't cured patients—he had saved countless lives—but he carried the memory of those he couldn't save so deeply that he began to doubt the meaning of his work.

"Doctor, can gene therapy help?"

The doctor paused. "Gene therapy is a strong possibility, but since you are aware of it, I won't hide the truth. I have considered it, but the patient's progression is simply too rapid. The medication... it might not catch up in time, and the investment would likely be in vain."

Xu Chen hadn't expected the disease to outpace the drugs, but upon reflection, it made sense. Developing gene therapy for a specific patient took time—time the doctor felt the patient didn't have.

"Why is his condition progressing so quickly?"

"Sigh, young man, that is a question I find hard to explain to you."

"He’s a medical student; he’ll understand," Song Tian interjected.

The doctor’s eyes lit up. "Oh, you’re here to help him understand the condition, are you? But you aren't an oncology major, are you?"

"No, but I have some basic knowledge."

"Studious—that’s a good thing," the doctor praised. "In that case, I’ll let you look at my meeting notes. Consider it a practical exercise, but remember, do not leak the patient’s privacy."

"Don't worry, his son is watching me."

The doctor nodded. Seeing that Xu Chen was with the family and persistent in his questions, he figured it was better to let him read the records than waste time explaining in layman's terms.

Xu Chen did not stand on ceremony; he was genuinely curious about the rapid progression. After a quick scan, he confirmed that the patient was severely resistant to all current drugs for chronic myeloid leukemia. Furthermore, the patient’s hematopoietic stem cells were abnormally active, consuming vast amounts of nutrients, which accelerated the disease and made treatment difficult.

The notes included discussions between senior experts regarding the mechanism of drug resistance, specifically noting that the Bcr-Abl tyrosine kinase activity was abnormally high and could not be inhibited by the drugs. The impact on the cytokine receptors c-Kit and PDGFR was also negligible, rendering the medication useless.

Although Xu Chen didn't fully grasp the nature of these kinases and receptors, he didn't need to—he understood enough to know that Song’s father was beyond medical help.

However, his eyes lingered on the record of the abnormally high tyrosine kinase activity. He had heard the term "abnormally active" in his internship group, though it was usually in reference to fungi or cancer cells. He hadn't paid it much mind then. Now, he struggled with how to explain this to Song Tian.

Finally, he set the file down and patted Song Tian on the shoulder. "I’ve finished reading. Your father’s condition is not good. I’ll help you ask for leave from our advisor; you should spend these next few days with your father."

Song Tian’s body went rigid. He looked at Xu Chen in disbelief. "Why would you say that? Is my dad really...?"

"Sigh, I can't say for certain, but it’s highly likely. This report was written by doctors from the Tianping Oncology Hospital. They are the best in the country at treating this, and what they’ve concluded is essentially set in stone."

"Is there really no other way?"

"I don’t know. I’ll help you look into any medical research trials. Sometimes drug development requires volunteer patients. Perhaps there’s a new drug that might just happen to work? But that’s a desperate measure—it relies entirely on luck. Don’t get your hopes up."

Even though such trials existed, the country was extremely cautious about human clinical trials. The screening process was rigorous, and early-stage drugs often had terrifying side effects. He was only saying this to comfort Song Tian. If there wasn't even a sliver of hope, it would be too cruel.

Song Tian’s eyes turned red. He finally realized his father was beyond saving. He stared at Xu Chen for a long time, his eyes full of silent pleading, hoping it was all a joke. Finally, appearing to come to terms with it, he nodded heavily. "Alright. Please speak to the advisor for me."

Xu Chen nodded. Song Tian said goodbye and headed toward the ward. His sister had already been caring for their father for days. No matter what conflicts existed between them in the past, he owed it to his father to show filial piety in the time he had left.

Xu Chen stayed behind to organize the documents he had been reading. He felt it would be disrespectful to leave them in disarray. While tidying up, he found a paper envelope labeled "Photos of Afflicted Area." It was undoubtedly photos of the father’s thigh. Driven by a medical student’s curiosity, he opened it.

He shouldn't have. One look and he was stunned. He felt the same way he did the first time he saw the photos the academician had shown his internship group. Only one word came to mind: disgusting.

The photos showed two twisted masses of flesh. The muscles were taut and covered in deep, jagged furrows, as if something were wriggling beneath the surface. The skin was mottled with bulging, cyan veins, looking like the gnarled roots of an ancient vine.

Xu Chen managed to identify that they were indeed legs, but he couldn't fathom how simple bone growth could result in such a sight. It looked like the tangled, knotted branches of a century-old tree, and the muscles had contorted into a grotesque, inhuman shape. This degree of osteophyte formation had completely destroyed the function of the legs; it was a total limb deformity.