Chapter 60 The Last Straw: Hand in Hand...
Two weeks later, Liang Siyu appeared at the Allergy Clinic of JHU Affiliated Hospital for a specific glove material allergy test.
The nurse, holding the test results, routinely asked, "Have you used any topical hormones in the past seven days?"
"No."
"Oral antihistamines?"
"No."
Before he began, the doctor explained to him, "The synthetic rubber material itself does not trigger an immune response; allergies are usually caused by accelerators used in the production process."
"This test can identify which accelerators you are allergic to and how severe your allergic reaction is. Once confirmed, you can try to find gloves that do not contain those accelerators."
Liang Siyu nodded: "Yes, I understand."
During the past two weeks, he has been unable to continue animal experiments, and during his rest period, he has read a lot of materials.
He unbuttoned his shirt, and his back muscles tensed slightly in the cold air.
As he carefully attached each patch, he felt a slight itch, whether it was psychological or not.
"Do not shower for 48 hours, reduce sweating, and do not scratch," the nurse instructed.
"I know, thank you." He carefully put on his shirt, absentmindedly buttoning it up to the collar, then gave a wry smile and unbuttoned two buttons.
He returned to the clinic 48 and 96 hours after the patch was applied, where the doctor performed two readings and gave the test results.
Thiuram Mix, moderately positive.
Carba Mix, moderately positive.
MBT, moderately positive.
DPG, mildly positive.
The doctor looked at him: "T-cell mediated type IV hypersensitivity reaction..."
"It will not disappear naturally; it will only stabilize or gradually worsen."
He mechanically followed along; this was muscle memory for every MD student who had reviewed USMLE Step 1.
"If it's just an allergy to traditional accelerators, the hospital's newly introduced polyisoprene gloves have a hypoallergenic version, which might solve the problem."
"But you also tested slightly positive for DPG. As far as I know, even so-called hypoallergenic gloves currently on the market contain DPG residue; it's an unavoidable manufacturing process issue," the doctor sighed regretfully.
"Also, even hypoallergenic gloves may have peroxide residue, which may cause skin barrier irritation."
"With these factors combined, and the long working hours of surgery, the outlook is probably not optimistic."
"However, you can go and get a sample to try."
He nodded, thanked them, said goodbye, and went to the occupational health department in another building to collect the samples.
The box was snow-white, with German and English text on it, and the words "No Accelerators" printed in large letters.
He walked towards the parking lot, snowflakes landing on the back of his neck, slightly cool, and his back, where the patch had been torn off, was still slightly itchy under his soft cotton T-shirt.
He raised his hand, and the little red rashes from two weeks ago had completely disappeared.
But he wasn't sure where the unseen red behind him would spread.
Like an invisible straw, so light it's almost nonexistent, yet it's already weighed down there.
He opened the door, and a sweet fragrance wafted into the room. Xu Aida was nestled on the sofa, holding a book.
She looked up and said, "Try the jujube tea I brewed later. It's really good this time."
He took a shower before coming over to hug her. With the flu season in full swing in winter, and having visited the clinic, he naturally needed to clean himself up.
She handed him the mug: "It's cold outside, have something hot to drink."
He took two large gulps of his drink and then mentioned the doctor's diagnosis and the box of new gloves in his bag.
"The processing of this material does not contain traditional accelerators, and it is said that 70-80% of medical staff have no problems using it."
"Mmm." She leaned on his shoulder and nodded.
After dinner, he applied lotion and tried out the new gloves in his study. It was fine at first, but after about forty minutes, his skin started to itch.
He told himself that it was just the different feel of the new material, a little rough, and that he needed to get used to it. The itching must be an illusion, his brain overreacting.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on practicing, inserting the needle, tying the knot, every movement was the same as before.
Twenty minutes later, he had to put down the needles and take off his gloves—there was no rash, but his skin was slightly red and hot, which he could no longer ignore.
When he returned to the bedroom, a small nightlight was on, and she was curled up in bed wearing an eye mask.
He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but the next second, he felt a little ridiculous for his pointless procrastination.
He quietly got into bed, turned off the light, put on his headphones and listened to white noise, forcing himself to fall asleep.
He didn't fall asleep for a long time.
"Ned, are you asleep?" A soft voice drifted by, like mist.
"No." He took off his headphones and slowly opened his eyes.
She sat quietly, leaning against the headboard.
The moonlight, as white as snow, pierced through the gap in the curtains. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest and quickly got up to hug her.
In fact, Xu Aida hadn't been able to sleep for several nights. Sometimes, she wanted to shake him awake and yell at him, "You liar! You've lied to me for ten years! Ten years!"
And I was such a fool, I didn't see anything at all, and I actually believed your nonsense.
But each time, she restrained herself. She lay on her side, staring at the black phone screen, looking at her blurry reflection.
She became a liar too, and she will never, ever reveal a secret.
Another sleepless night, the night the verdict was to be delivered. She looked at the narrow sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains and let out a long sigh.
Siyu, I'm starting to understand you.
However, keeping a secret does not mean we cannot share the ripples of the soul.
She returned to the present, raised her hand to stroke his cheek, and looked up into his eyes: "Ned, you said that if we couldn't sleep, we would look at the roof together, and you would wake me up so we could look at the roof together."
"Promise me that even if you don't want to say anything, you will wake me up."
“Ada.” He tightened his grip on her arm.
When he said this to her in the summer, he had no idea what the person who was awake in the darkness was feeling.
Now he understands. He begins to realize that it takes immense courage to wake someone up.
Every time, she was braver than him.
“I’m so scared, Ada,” he said softly. “Maybe I can’t be a doctor anymore…”
"I never thought this would happen..."
She simply gripped his hand tightly.
After a few seconds, he added, "When Ed was little, he once fell and cut his leg badly. His mother's hands were shaking, and she couldn't wrap the bandage properly."
“I told my mom that I had seen it on TV and that you have to fold it over to tie it. My mom was stunned. Ed said, ‘Let me tie it.’”
“It’s strange,” he said in an even lower voice, “I’ve only seen it when I was watching a documentary with my dad.”
"I don't know why, but I just remembered how to wrap it like that."
He suddenly stopped, as if realizing that he had said too much.
“The spiral reverse bandaging method.” Tears suddenly streamed down her face.
He was taken aback. How did she know such a standard professional term?
Xu Aida recalled her past life when she fractured her leg while skiing. The day after the brace was removed, her arm felt sore and weak, and nothing felt right.
That night, he wrapped a small section of her forearm with an elastic bandage.
"Actually, it doesn't have a fixed effect; it's just a placebo, making you feel more stable," he explained as he continued to pester.
The next day, he bought her suitable compression sleeves and muscle tape, and that temporary solution was never used again.
She always remembered the way he bent his head and focused on wrapping her bandages.
"Ned, don't worry."
She nestled against him, her ear pressed against his left chest, and said, "You have a very, very good heart."
"No matter what you do, it will lead you in the right direction."
He stroked her long hair; the moonlight was a pure white line that stretched from the window and fell around them.
His heart was beating steadily in his chest.
More than a month has passed, and the forsythia has sprouted a touch of golden yellow, illuminating the early spring campus.
Professor Brooke pulled two cans of Coke from under his desk and pushed one to the student opposite him.
Carbonated bubbles danced on his tongue, and Brooke's voice was a little muffled: "Ned, focus on surface electromyography. If you keep going in this direction, with your results, you'll graduate with a PhD without any problem."
He was somewhat relieved that he had agreed to the new project a year ago, when he was worried that Ned would be distracted. Now, it had become his lifeline.
Without this readily available new direction, even if Ned accumulates projects and meets the graduation requirements for a PhD, it would be almost impossible for him to find a relevant postdoctoral or faculty position.
Conducting invasive electrode research, but being unable to enter animal facilities or perform animal surgeries, is a dead end.
"Of course, you need to find your own niche. There's no rush, take your time."
Professor Brooke stopped there. Their research on surface electromyography is quite impressive; Ned should be able to graduate with his PhD smoothly next year.
However, these are all projects led by Ada, and Ned would prefer to have one or two "more independent studies" during his postdoctoral studies.
Liang Siyu nodded. He understood his mentor's unfinished business. Previously, this was his "side project," and he saw himself more as Ada's collaborator. But from now on, he would have to work harder.
"If your paper is submitted for publication and does not undergo major revisions, your author ranking will remain unchanged."
"However, if a paper requires supplementary animal experimental data, we will make adjustments based on the actual contribution. Is that alright?"
“Of course, that makes perfect sense.” Liang Siyu took a sip of his cola. “And that unfinished draft, you said last semester…”
They discussed several ongoing studies in turn, and Liang Siyu had already begun organizing the data and preparing for the handover.
"Take a good rest during spring break. If needed, you can take a few more days off." Professor Brooke accompanied him to the door and patted him on the shoulder.
“I’ve had enough rest,” he forced a smile and cracked a hellish joke. “My colleagues who help me take care of the rats and monkeys are going crazy with jealousy.”
Professor Brooke paused for a moment, then smiled slightly: "Indeed, congratulations. From now on, as a human subject, you won't need to stay on campus for Thanksgiving holiday."
The spring breeze was still chilly. Liang Siyu walked out, but the parking lot was clearly on the other side, so he took a longer route.
It had been almost two months since he had gone inside, but just standing there, he could almost smell that familiar "gift," a strange smell mixed with rat bedding, disinfectant, and propionic acid.
His prefrontal cortex subtly reminded him that it was an illusion; the negative pressure system in the animal house was working very well.
He glanced at the scene again silently, and seemed to see a few familiar figures. He quickly turned around and strode towards the parking lot.
Ada went for EMDR treatment today, and it's about time he should pick her up.
The ginkgo trees in the courtyard had just sprouted some new buds. When Liang Siyu entered the waiting room, his usual seat was already occupied.
She was wearing a light green cashmere sweater and was writing and drawing with her head down.
He approached, looked at the crooked, disproportionate brain region diagram on the paper, and couldn't help but smile.
She looked up, blushing slightly, quickly folded the paper, and stuffed it back into her bag.
Back home, after parking the car, he asked, "Want to come for a walk in the park with me? It'll only be fifteen minutes, that shouldn't be too much of a burden for a Californian."
They continued walking south along St. Paul's Road, and she took his left arm: "Ned, honestly, it feels like I've lived here for years."
"As a talking linden tree?" he asked rhetorically, then casually tidied her wind-blown hair.
She didn't answer, but her right hand gently slid down and intertwined with his fingers, like the roots of two trees intertwined in the thick soil.
As Xu Aida.
She said to herself.
(End of text)
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Author's Note: Ada's journey of self-healing has come to an end, and I can stop writing here and watch her continue. I have unwavering faith that she will overcome everything and emerge as the complete Xu Aida.
Explain the differences in career choices made by the two generations of Ned after developing an allergy.
Second playthrough: Ned stays, mainly because Ada started the non-invasive electrode project two years earlier (there is a clear timeline in Chapter 15), which does not require animal surgery, so he can continue.
First playthrough: He could no longer pursue either of his career paths (doctor or researcher), which would have led to a greater psychological breakdown, so he ran away.
As for why he chose to be an actor? There was a bit of coincidence, as an old friend invited him to film a short film; there was also a bit of fate involved—"Since I can't be Liang Siyu, then being someone else is fine too."
After a week's rest, I will start by releasing the side stories of my past life.
Thank you again for your company!
I'd like to boldly request that the author add this to their collection and recommend their other works.
My next book is "Late Summer in San Francisco," and I want to write about a cheerful, puppy-like female protagonist who doesn't suffer from internal conflict, just to change my mood.
My old novel, "Spring Mountain Rain Sleep," is a sweet and gentle story that will leave you feeling relaxed after reading it.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
