Chapter 1026: Shocking the Mundane (IV)

"Don't be anxious. Drink some water first, and we'll talk slowly." Schiller walked to the table beside them and poured a glass of water for Strange.

Usually, Schiller, Strange, and Loki were more like friends who were frenemies. When the three got together, besides bringing a bit of human shock to the cosmic demons, they were just being sarcastic to each other.

For no other reason, these three represented three forces, and all three forces were complicated and couldn't be explained clearly.

Loki's debts in Asgard didn't need to be mentioned, Kamar-Taj led by Strange wasn't peaceful either, and the fun things about the human heroes on Schiller's side were even more numerous. These three masters of sarcasm got together, and the sneezes of important figures from the three sides could trigger a tsunami.

But now, Schiller felt he still needed to care about Strange, because Strange's state looked really too bad.

Strange had mysophobia and also had certain paranoid symptoms. Like most surgeons, he had extremely strict requirements for his appearance, movements, and language, wanting to have the upper hand in all aspects and would never easily make himself look disheveled.

After he became the Sorcerer Supreme, this point hadn't changed. If one said that Ancient One's leadership style was to grasp the big and let go of the small, not sticking to trifles, then Strange was cautious, precise to every course of every apprentice every day, and had to ask about everything in detail.

Now, the buttons on Strange's suit were crooked to one side. Looking at it, it should have been that his hands were shaking when buttoning, causing the buttons to be pulled crooked. Although the tie knot was tied relatively neatly, it seemed that it had been stuffed into the suit jacket many times, causing wrinkles on the edges.

The cufflinks that were usually managed very neatly weren't buttoned, let alone the dark circles covered under his glasses and the fine lines brought by the downward drooping of the corners of his mouth near the mouth muscles.

This kind of image was common for Stark because he often stayed up late to do experiments and wasn't willing to wear formal clothes properly, even his tie was tied by Pepper. But this happening to Strange was extremely abnormal.

Schiller knew that Strange was more like the Arrogant Schiller. Both of them were meticulous about their appearance. And if there was anything that could make them look disheveled, it must be a major event where the sky was about to collapse.

Strange picked up the water glass Schiller handed him. However, his hands kept shaking, causing water to splash onto the table, which made him feel even more uncomfortable. Schiller keenly discovered his symptoms, so he turned and went to the cabinet behind, taking a safety straw cup specially for psychiatric patients.

But Strange seemed to have been stimulated. He slapped the table with his palm and said, "I am not a psychiatric patient! Why do you give me a safety cup? I can take care of myself! I can..."

Saying that, he reached out to take the ordinary water glass on the table again. As a result, this time it shook even more violently. With a shake of his hand, he threw the glass out directly. With a "clatter," it shattered into several pieces, and the water also splashed out.

Schiller frowned. He discovered that he had still underestimated Strange's condition. This was no longer just an anxiety attack; it looked like there were signs of bipolar disorder. His irritability came too suddenly, and his behavioral patterns changed too quickly.

Schiller just turned to get cleaning tools, intending to clean up the glass shards on the ground, but discovered that Strange had actually bent down, wanting to reach out and pick up the glass shards. He rushed over immediately and stopped Strange. Strange seemed to have realized something. He covered his mouth with his hand, supported his elbows on the table, and breathed deeply continuously.

Schiller cleaned up the debris on the ground, poured a glass of water for Strange again, but didn't hand it to him, instead placing it between the two. Strange was quickly attracted by the calm water surface. Staring at the calm water surface, he seemed to have calmed down a lot.

"Tell me what's going on." Schiller took the initiative to speak.

"My father's health is not good..." Strange said with a trembling tone, but the next second he gritted his teeth and said, "But he deserves it! He smokes, drinks, and takes drugs, and hangs out in casinos every day!"

Strange took a few deep breaths, his tone becoming sad again: "But this is not his fault. My mother passed away, my sister was injured, I left home to study, and my younger brother is very rebellious. He has too much bitterness with no one to tell, but he refuses to see a psychologist because he feels he is not sick..."

"But in fact, whether physiologically or psychologically, he is very sick. Alcohol eroded his brain, nicotine damaged his lungs. Colleagues in the testing department said his lungs are beyond saving. He smoked too much, and in the later stages, when he felt pain, he had to use marijuana to numb himself..."

Strange suddenly fell silent. From the confession of his family secrets at a fast speed, he turned to complete silence. However, it was only for a second, like a machine gun that had run out of bullets.

"How does he view you?" Schiller asked a very critical question. He knew this might stimulate Strange, but he had to ask, because this was very likely the key to Strange's illness.

"He would rather rot at home, would rather let his lungs atrophy until losing two-thirds of their function, than find his son who works at a big hospital in New York! I am his eldest son!" Strange hammered the table again, saying: "Those damn rural doctors lied to him! It must be like this! They must have told him it was fine, so it dragged on like this. I knew it, that group of ignorant, stupid quacks..."

"Stephen." Schiller called his name. Strange stopped his voice. Schiller looked at him again and asked: "Can you give me the phone number of the clinic that treated your father?"

"I think, before, you might not have communicated calmly, which might have caused you to miss some details of your father's illness. If you cannot control your emotions, I can make a call for you to ask carefully. Maybe there will be some turning point?"

"What's the use of asking them?!" Strange roared in a low voice: "They are all a group of incompetent playboys! Because they couldn't get into big medical schools, they chose to go to small clinics!"

"Oh! Oh oh!" Strange made strange noises with his mouth and said: "I know what they will say, 'We just have different divisions of labor, but we are all saving people, you are not more noble than me', go to hell!"

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"This group of idiots just doesn't want to admit that their medical skills are terrible! Why should I communicate rationally with them? They don't understand anything at all! A group of street thugs who took a few days of training classes dare to call themselves grassroots doctors?!"

These words revealed Strange's arrogance completely. However, he indeed had the capital to be proud. After graduating from New York University Medical School, he entered Columbia University and New York Presbyterian Hospital with a record-breaking speed.

If someone didn't know how powerful this was, it could be simply said that in the surgical medical field, Strange was called "God's Gift." There was no neurosurgical operation in the world that he couldn't complete perfectly. In neurosurgery and even the entire surgical field, he was the undisputed number one.

"Do you still remember the first time we met?" Schiller looked at Strange with a smile and said: "It was at a consultation. The night before, I drank too much alcohol and was late, and you said psychologists were charlatans..."

Strange, who was just cursing other doctors indignantly, suddenly froze for a moment, then turned his head to the side somewhat awkwardly. Schiller continued: "But I don't blame you, because I know surgeons are like this. Surgeons don't understand medicine at all; you only know how to perform surgery."

Strange was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, almost jumping up from the chair, and said: "I graduated from New York Medical School with a record-breaking speed..."

"You are stupid, arrogant, and narrow-minded, have a bad temper, and are overly conceited..."

"What did you say?!!!!!!!!!"

"But you are very good at surgery."

"Oh... thank you."

Strange just put away his smug expression, and instantly froze again, looking at Schiller. And Schiller showed a smile of a successful prank, saying: "Look, actually you don't care at all whether you understand medicine or not, you only care whether your surgery is done well."

Strange just wanted to say something, but Schiller picked up the water glass beside him and took a sip, and said: "But this is actually very normal, because surgeons don't have prescription rights, nor do they need to perform tests and anesthesia. You only need to be responsible for performing surgery. Everyone has their own duties, right?"

"You look at psychologists as charlatans because comforting patients and prescribing psychiatric drugs for them are not within your scope of duty. I feel that performing surgery is nothing difficult because I have never been on an operating table."

"Those township doctors are the same. Within their duties, there is neither comforting patients nor performing surgery on patients. They are only responsible for simple examinations. If there are cases beyond their ability, all they can do is let the patients go to big hospitals."

"Just like you gradually understand me and the profession of psychologist, you always have to give those township doctors you look down on a chance to see if they have completed their own duties, even if that is very simple for you."

Strange curled his lips. Schiller's method of comfort was easy to move him. If Schiller argued with him about "grassroots doctors are also not easy" and the like, Strange would only be more angry. Once a person drills into a dead end, the more tit-for-tat, the more they can't walk out.

However, Schiller used himself as an example to explain that surgeons, psychologists, and township grassroots doctors just have different duties, and everyone only completes their own share of work. Surgeons are no exception.

After all, even the best surgeon, like Strange, didn't have prescription rights and couldn't even prescribe medicine. But some township doctors could.

Based on this reality, Strange could only admit that everyone's scope of duty was different, and their suggestions could also be listened to.

Thus, Strange reluctantly opened the address book on his mobile phone, found the phone number of the doctor he had contacted, and then messaged it to Schiller. After Schiller got the phone number, he didn't call immediately, but sent a text message first. After a while, the phone called back.

"Oh, hello. That's right, I sent it. I am the psychologist of Mr. Strange Jr. I think he might have been rude to you before. I apologize to you on his behalf. His mental state is not very good now..."

"That's right. I also worked at the Presbyterian Hospital before and was a colleague with him, but don't worry, I am not a surgeon. They don't understand anything except performing surgery, right?"

"Oh, you are too kind. I think calm communication is what every normal adult should be able to do."

"Yes, when I was providing psychological treatment for Mr. Strange, I found that he was very worried about his father's condition. Due to his irrational communication with you before, he didn't get many details, so I called to consult for more details..."

Schiller hadn't asked any questions yet, and the doctor on the opposite side poured out all the information in one breath. Schiller listened while taking out his notebook and started recording.

"Is that so? Started having symptoms three years ago? Difficulty breathing, right? May I ask, have you suggested he go to a big hospital for medical treatment? Yes, I know you must have suggested it, but what was the other party's attitude?"

"Right, we all know that Dr. Strange works at the best hospital in New York. Did Mr. Strange Sr. not mention this to you? Did he mention his eldest son to you?"

Schiller, who was lowering his head to take notes, could clearly see from his peripheral vision that Strange's arm muscles tightened instantly, and his breathing became faster. For this answer, he seemed to be looking forward to it and afraid of it. ===== CHAPTER 1027 =====