Chapter 2345: Mind Assault (Part IX)

"Hello, Psychiatry 3102... Yes, this is he."

Schiller picked up the phone, listening to the person on the other end. Everyone's eyes were focused on him, and then they heard Schiller sigh heavily and say, "You mean, there is a family member in the intensive care unit who is crying to the point of collapse because a relative passed away and refuses to leave the bedside? You hope we can go and perform emergency psychological intervention?"

Several young interns stood up. They knew this was a job. This kind of job was relatively easy to do, and they didn't need to go through the disinfection process to change clothes. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could return. The tasks assigned by the supervisor also counted as supervision hours, which was considered a relatively good task.

As a result, they heard Schiller say indifferently, "Ma'am, may I ask a question? If your father passed away, would you be sad?... Of course, we all would. So now you want me to let a poor girl whose biological father passed away three minutes ago jump out of the intensive care unit with laughter?"

"Feeling sad about the passing of a relative is a normal emotion, not a disease. If she is occupying a bed, then go call security. If you don't want to treat her so rudely, then go persuade her and make her a cup of hot coffee."

"Of course not. The jurisdiction of the psychiatry department is the human brain. Parts below the cerebellum, including the mouth, are not within our jurisdiction, so persuasion is something you have to do yourself."

After speaking, Schiller hung up the phone. The interns looked at each other, and finally sat down.

Charles frowned slightly, because his mind-reading ability had already searched for the lady who was crying to the point of collapse. She had already fainted from crying and was being carried away. The heavy sadness lingered in the entire corridor.

"That... shouldn't we, I mean, out of humanitarianism... comfort her a little?"

"No, Charles." Schiller shook his head and firmly refused him, saying, "I think you should be able to understand what I said completely. This is not a disease, this is just a normal human emotion. And you are a doctor, you cannot ask a person who is not sick to hold back their emotions. That is what is inhumane."

Charles barely accepted this statement. Schiller opened his mouth and continued, "I think you have remembered the jurisdiction I just mentioned. Please strictly follow this scope in the future. I know this may be a bit counter-intuitive, but..."

Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!

Schiller picked up the phone again and said to the other side, "Hello, Psychiatry 3102."

"I'll say it again, Ms. Ross. When a person is hospitalized for 12 weeks, has undergone four surgeries, and is not lying in the hospital bed of the inpatient department or lying on the operating table 24 hours a day, and cannot complete eating, drinking, and defecating independently, what he needs is to go to the courtyard to turn around in a wheelchair as much as possible, not to have a person in a white coat run there to chat with him, especially when he is only 12 years old!"

Schiller hung up the phone again. This time David also pursed his lips. Charles still said, "Do we really not need to provide counseling for this young patient? He must feel very uncomfortable and afraid."

"We must first rule out the possibility of organic lesions leading to mental problems. If his body hasn't recovered to the best state, then all the mental and emotional problems he presents are not mental illnesses. Can you understand what I mean?"

Charles could naturally understand what Schiller meant. Simply put, if a person is weak, he will be depressed. This is very normal. Except for masochists, no one can be happy when in pain. This kind of emotional problem is not a mental illness, but the most normal emotional reaction of human beings.

So theoretically, this kind of emotion is not under the jurisdiction of the psychiatry department. On the contrary, if someone is particularly weak but mentally particularly excited, then he is likely to be a mental patient, because he violates human emotional laws, which means his brain may have problems.

"Then how to distinguish the boundary?" Charles asked, "To what extent does this emotion need our intervention?"

"Until they show typical external manifestations." Schiller said, "Please remember, you can only prescribe medicine if there are manifestations. If there is only emotion, then go to the psychological department to find a counselor. Never prescribe medicine just because a patient tells you he is unhappy. This is not what a psychiatrist should do."

Schiller changed one leg to the other and said, "The hardest part of this line of work is not receiving patients, but refusing patients, because this is quite counter-intuitive and somewhat violates morality."

"The patient is in front of you, he looks very painful, you know he has a cavity of anger, sadness, and resentment to vent, but you can only tell them, I'm sorry, I can't prescribe medicine for you, because it doesn't work."

"Most psychiatric drugs have a calming effect. After they take them, this emotion will slow down, but this is actually not treatment, because you let them violate normal emotional laws, let them sleep when they should be sad, and sleep when they should be angry. This is very likely to cause more serious problems than their emotional explosion."

"So if you encounter such patients, let them see a psychologist, not come to the psychiatry department to prescribe medicine, unless they have felt stupor, distraction, or insomnia because of depression, anxiety, or other similar mental illnesses."

"Just like internal medicine doctors in other departments won't prescribe antibiotics to patients to prevent sore throats, they will only suggest that they drink more water, talk less, and eat less irritating food when their throats are not inflamed."

Charles understood, but didn't take it in, because this theory sounds really ruthless. A sad patient came to the hospital, hoping to get effective relief, but the doctor refused him, which must be another major blow to him.

The atmosphere in the department was a bit heavy, and Schiller was still trying to make it heavier. He said, "This line of work is like this. It is possible that when the patient's condition is extremely serious, you prescribed enough medicine for a full course of treatment, and supplemented it with psychological counseling, treating him with meticulous care, but he was still the same until he was discharged, without any improvement."

"Then one day ten years later, he saw a small flower blooming on the side of the road and suddenly thought it through. This has no direct relationship with the treatment you gave him at the time. The human spirit is so wonderful."

"Then you can only comfort yourself, at that time if you didn't care, he might have deteriorated more seriously, perhaps he wouldn't have lived to ten years later, but you know the fact is not so. He survived entirely on his own. You didn't save him, and you might not have helped him."

"This is a medical category where the patient's own efforts are far greater than the doctor's treatment. It is difficult to experience the sense of accomplishment of saving lives, the positive feedback is extremely insufficient, but it is very easy to be angered to death by various strange patient family members."

"This is why psychiatrists are so profitable, but now they are so lacking that they need emergency training."

Just as Schiller said this, the phone rang again. After he picked it up, he said, "Hello, Psychiatry..."

Schiller's eyes suddenly sank. The department became quieter, almost audible. But the anger appearing on Schiller flashed away and soon became imperceptible.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, there is no such medicine. I have emphasized it to you countless times. Introversion is not a disease, and not wanting to socialize doesn't mean she is crazy."

"If you feel that her athletic ability is insufficient, then go to the neurology department. No, we can't let her be hospitalized. Your daughter is not a mental patient. This is not a question of money."

"I guarantee with my personality and professional ability that there is no medicine in this world that can make people cheerful. None. Then go. No matter how you complain, I can't prescribe medicine that doesn't exist in this world."

Hanging up the phone, Schiller spread his hands and said, "That's it. You will hear all kinds of unreasonable demands. I believe the doctors and nurses downstairs must have emphasized it to her countless times. They let her make this call just to use my authority to make her give up, but we all know she won't."

At this time, Charles had also found this mother and daughter. The mother was cursing, and the daughter was standing behind her blankly. The doctors and nurses were full of helplessness.

This girl's family was obviously rich and expensive, able to enter Presbyterian Hospital and make doctors and nurses helpless, and have to call Schiller. Obviously, she couldn't satisfy the needs of elite education, was born introverted, not good at socializing, and preferred to hide at home and watch cartoons than like skiing, playing ball, and shopping with little sisters.

The mother's thinking was full of noise, and the daughter's brain was blank. Listening to these two voices at the same time, Charles felt that he was going crazy.

He saw David frown.

Suddenly, the daughter's voice disappeared, and the chaotic thoughts erupted. Charles focused and saw that the daughter fainted. There was chaos downstairs. His senior brother had just arrived and was contacting the emergency room.

"What did you do?" Charles looked at David.

"I absorbed her personality." David said lightly in Charles's brain, "In my thinking space, she has an independent room where she can watch her favorite cartoons until the end of time."

Charles opened his eyes in shock.

"You... how can you..."

"Don't be silly, we are mutants, and we are powerful mutants. You don't really intend to prescribe medicine to treat them like ordinary psychologists, do you? We have much better methods."

"But... but..."

Charles stood there in a daze, echoing David's words in his brain, but no matter from which angle he understood, what he said seemed to be right.

They are psychics, they can play with human spirit like playing with building blocks, then they can do more and better than these bound psychiatrists.

She also deserves it, right? A dangerous thought appeared in Charles's mind. A mother almost drove her daughter crazy because of her own needs. It is conceivable that if she doesn't get the result today, she will only vent all her anger on her daughter when she goes back.

This poor little girl who did nothing wrong is likely to suffer a lifetime of torture. She has no ability to escape, and these psychiatrists can't help her much.

But he can, they can, Charles thought, this mother was punished, and the daughter also got the freedom she wanted most to some extent. He had to admit that getting this result was much more refreshing than listening to Schiller say those things.

Perhaps this is the meaning of their birth, Charles thought, it is God making up for omissions.

Then, why not? ===== CHAPTER 2346 =====

Perhaps this is the meaning of their birth, Charles thought; it is God filling in the gaps.

Then, why not?