Chapter 1501: 1454 Killing Technique

Zheng Ren looked up, the service staff's system panel color began shifting from a light green to rapidly red, a diagnosis appeared before Zheng Ren's eyes — tension pneumothorax.

This is a deadly disease.

Tension pneumothorax refers to a large pulmonary bleb rupture or a large, deep lung laceration or bronchial rupture, where the opening communicates with the pleural cavity and forms a one-way valve.

During inhalation, air enters the pleural cavity through the opening; during exhalation, the valve closes, preventing air from escaping, causing pressure in the pleural cavity to continually rise, compressing the lung and gradually collapsing it.

If the high-pressure air in the pleural cavity is squeezed into the mediastinum and diffuses into subcutaneous tissue, it forms subcutaneous emphysema in the neck, face, chest, etc.

This disease has an acute onset; if delayed for a period of time, it is extremely likely to be fatal.

The service staff is as thin and tall as a bamboo pole.

Young people with this physique are the most prone to spontaneous pneumothorax.

Zheng Ren suddenly stood up, released Xie Yiren's hand, and strode over to the service staff.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Zheng Ren asked gently.

Switching from customer mode to doctor mode, preparing for emergency rescue, without any hindrance.

The service staff is very young, looks under 20 years old. Originally busy, covered in sweat, face flushed.

But in an instant, the color faded from his face like a receding tide, replaced by a deathly pallor.

He nodded, wanting to smile slightly, indicating he was fine.

But earlier his chest had felt a sharp pain, now he felt chest tightness, and he began breathing rapidly.

Zheng Ren knew this was the body's natural response.

In a state of oxygen deprivation, one naturally forces inhalation, just like being on a plateau at 4000 meters altitude.

But the more one inhales, the more gas appears in the chest cavity, and the faster the lung tissue is compressed.

The lung tissue is rapidly flattened, worsening breathing difficulty, and the patient continues to struggle to breathe.

This is a negative feedback process, and also why tension pneumothorax patients have an acute onset and extremely high mortality risk.

"Don't panic, sit down." Zheng Ren supported the young man's arm, bearing his weight, and helped him sit on a nearby chair.

"What the hell!" The person sitting there also held a wine bottle, looked about seventy percent drunk, unhappy, completely unaware of the situation.

"Please move aside, he's ill." Zheng Ren said.

"Why should I! I'm here to spend money." That person glared and shouted.

Su Yun brought a chair over, and together with Zheng Ren helped the service staff sit down, ignoring the middle-aged man skewering meat nearby.

At this point, starting an argument would be pointless.

Besides, he's right — he came to eat, he's not a doctor, he doesn't know what happened.

Even if he were a doctor, aside from Zheng Ren this kind of quack, no one would know what happened.

After helping the service staff sit down, Zheng Ren tore open his shirt and pressed his ear to it.

"Spontaneous pneumothorax?" Lao He stood up, somewhat puzzled, asked.

"Possibly, the boss is examining him." Su Yun then turned and asked: "Xiao Feng, did you bring the stethoscope?"

Feng Xu Hui was speechless.

The box is large, but it's all interventional consumables; who would go out for no reason and still bring a first-aid kit?

Moreover, given Boss Zheng's surgical scope, even a first-aid kit might not be enough.

Su Yun also felt regret; seeing Zheng Ren look up, he began percussion.

He placed his left hand on the service staff's chest wall, and with his right middle finger tapped the left hand's middle finger joint, striking the patient's chest wall, producing the percussion sound.

The sound wasn't loud, but Su Yun detected an abnormality.

For the most basic thoracic surgery examination, if he couldn't hear it, he might as well wash up and sleep.

Lao He also heard the abnormality, astonished, said: "Really a pneumothorax."

Saying that, he took out his phone and began dialing 120.

"Lao He, when calling 120, it's best to bring a chest tube." Zheng Ren said in a low voice.

"Tension pneumothorax?!" Su Yun asked.

Zheng Ren nodded.

The surrounding customers bustled, watching what was happening, discussing animatedly.

"What happened to that service staff?"

"I don't know, tsk tsk, his clothes were torn open. Does that young man have this fetish? That counts as harassment, right. In broad daylight, it's offensive to morals."

"Why doesn't that person fight back? The service staff shouldn't be bullied, it's completely outrageous!"

Several customers overflowing with sense of justice stood up, loudly condemning Zheng Ren.

The boss also came out from inside, with a puzzled expression, asking: "What's going on?"

"He suddenly developed pneumothorax… the condition is serious, I've already called an ambulance." Zheng Ren said, "Do we have a syringe?"

"Our meat has never been injected with water, where would we get a syringe!" The boss shouted angrily.

As for pneumothorax, the ambulance is so far away for him, it's nowhere near as simple and direct as water-injected meat.

Zheng Ren was speechless, damn it!

The service staff's complexion kept worsening; no matter how Zheng Ren comforted him, his breathing grew ever more rapid.

"Do we have a cutting pack?" Lao He asked, although he knew there wasn't one, he asked out of habit.

Fortunately, Boss Zheng had called for an ambulance with a chest tube; just wait a few minutes for the ambulance to arrive.

With closed drainage in place, the patient will be fine.

This is a small matter, a small matter, Lao He comforted himself.

But before hearing the ambulance's wailing siren, the young service staff was already limp all over, drenched in sweat, lips bluish-purple, like a fish thrown onto shore, desperately gaping for air.

"Stay calm! Don't exert yourself so much, relax, relax." Zheng Ren anxiously comforted the service staff while looking around for something handy.

If it doesn't work, we can only buy from the System Space.

But under everyone's watchful eyes, conjuring something out of thin air would be deadly.

Zheng Ren gritted his teeth, his masseter muscles bulging, his face stern.

"Chief Zheng, what do you need?" Fan Tian Shui walked over, wanting to help.

"Syringe, draw out the air. Without a syringe, even a needle will do; insert it and let the air out to improve things a bit." Su Yun was also looking for something.

But a syringe...

Anyone who carries a syringe on them probably wouldn't dare give it to the waiter even if Zheng Ren took it out.

If not, we'll have to use a clean knife," Zheng Ren thought.

Fan Tian Shui thought, grabbed a handful of straws from the counter, and asked: "Chief Zheng, is this the kind? Insert it and it'll be fine."

"Mm." Zheng Ren's eyes lit up, "Go find a knife."

"Oh." Su Yun quickly ran toward the back kitchen.

Fan Tian Shui hesitated, picked up a straw, opened its outer packaging, and carefully asked: "Chief Zheng, are you preparing to make an incision and insert this?"

"Mm."

"Which spot?"

Zheng Ren felt Fan Tian Shui was talking a bit too much today, but still pointed to the second intercostal space along the midclavicular line on the patient's left chest wall.

Afterward, he left a mark there with his fingernail.

Just as his hand left, Zheng Ren stared in shock as Fan Tian Shui held the straw between two fingers like a dagger and stabbed toward the patient's chest wall.