Chapter 38 Warning of a Summer-Swept Trauma Attack! ...
The afternoon sun shone through the linen curtains, casting a soft glow. Richard leaned back on the velvet sofa, picked up a glass of whiskey, and helped analyze the situation of participant number 17.
He swirled the glass, the ice cubes crackling: "Trazodone was originally an antidepressant, but in orthopedics, we've found it's a bit like a Swiss Army knife, a versatile drug."
"First, it can help amputees who are suffering from limb deprivation get a good night's sleep. Second, when used in combination with gabapentin for combined analgesia, the effect is even better. Third, it can also stabilize the patient's depressed mood, achieving three benefits in one."
"Although the guidelines recommend tricyclic antidepressants, I use trazodone more often. Tricyclic antidepressants are too strong, like a big sledgehammer, and many patients complain of dizziness and headaches."
Tricyclic antidepressants? Xu Aida straightened her back slightly. She was familiar with this in her past life, having worked on related algorithms. She silently memorized it, preparing to ask about it later.
“Yes, trazodone has a much shorter half-life than tricyclic antibiotics,” Liang Siyu said, holding his iPad. “Based on the participants’ dosing schedule, the blood drug concentration was less than 15% by the time of the experiment. How could it have such a big impact? Is it because of its second phase?”
Richard nodded, looked at Cohen and Xu Aida, who were both bewildered, and explained to them, "You can think of trazodone as a combination of fine wine and coffee."
"It is a fine wine that can relax and induce sleep, and it works quickly. However, after being absorbed into the body for a period of time, it will generate an intermediate substance that can increase physiological arousal and bring tension and anxiety."
Liang Siyu silently complained to herself, "Dad's analogy isn't accurate enough. The latest research shows that alcohol doesn't help you sleep at all."
He had noticed it long ago: in the last four or five years, the medical journals the family had subscribed to were just sitting on the bookshelf, and his father hardly read them anymore.
However, Xu Aida quickly understood: "So, trazodone is more troublesome than tricyclic drugs? Because participants have both inhibitors and stimulants in their bodies at the same time, and the algorithm needs to separate these two antagonistic effects?"
Richard nodded: "Yes, it can slightly increase anxiety and enhance phantom limb sensations. But people are usually not sensitive to anxiety; they just feel that they are a little upset."
Liang Siyu quickly flipped through the iPad: "Yes, in the mood scale, he rated his anxiety level as not high."
“Because he’s used to this kind of noise,” Cohen said in unison.
Richard nodded: "That's my main deduction. Trazodone is indeed a troublesome problem for nerve signals."
In his view, it is best to filter out participants who use trazodone at this stage.
Xu Aida, however, became excited. She nudged Liang Siyu's elbow and said, "Ned, let's work in this direction next? The effect of drugs on motor nerve signals is also a good fit for medical journals."
In her past life, her algorithm had overcome the interference of tricyclic antiviral drugs and solved the problem of weak signals.
Now, an even tougher challenge has presented itself: ordered yet chaotic signals. Once we've got the high-density electrodes sorted out, we can tackle that in our next project!
Hearing her tone, Liang Siyu and Cohen exchanged a glance and both laughed.
Xu Aida suddenly blushed; she had actually been thinking of finding him a topic for his graduation thesis.
Richard felt quite gratified looking at the young couple. He had initially thought that Ned, that silly boy, was being a bit wishful, but now it seemed that Ada was actually a girl who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside.
“Also, regarding participant number 17,” he added slowly, “it would be best to have the liaison officer ask if he is taking any other antidepressants.”
“You know, patients don’t deliberately hide things; they just often forget important things.”
The three young men were taken aback, never expecting such a basic question, and they all laughed.
The atmosphere at dinner was even more relaxed. Claudia didn't host a formal family dinner, but instead arranged a barbecue in the backyard.
Everyone can grill whatever they like, and there's chilled juice on the side. The salad is Xu Aida's favorite: arugula with Spanish ham.
She quietly asked Liang Siyu, "Did you tell Claudia?" He just smiled.
There were four or five kinds of barbecue sauces, but her favorite was Thai sweet chili sauce, which she said went perfectly with seafood. She even felt, for a moment, that she was back in California tonight.
After the barbecue dinner, everyone chatted for quite a while before going back to their rooms.
When Liang Siyu came out of the shower, Norah Jones was playing on the speakers, his jazz style was languid and gentle.
Xu Aida was still wandering around the bedside, her hair still damp.
"So happy?" He loosely wrapped his arms around her waist.
She swayed gently to the music: "I've been very happy lately."
“New York is a magical city.” He was so aroused by her rubbing against him that he lowered his head and kissed her ear.
There was a faint scent of tuberose in her hair, which was intoxicating.
Xu Aida vaguely thought, perhaps it really is the magic of New York? Everything seems new.
Life is new, and so is research.
She tilted her head back to kiss him, and he picked her up, her hair brushing against his chest.
A brand new, warm, and humid summer was rising among them.
"Their open-faced tropical fruit sandwiches are fantastic, they really have a summery vibe."
As Liang Siyu drove, he recommended the restaurant, saying, "I dare say that, apart from one in Hawaii, this one on Long Island is second to none."
They slept in late and didn't go out for brunch until after 10 a.m. Cohen had already eaten breakfast, so he didn't join them.
Xu Aida had, of course, eaten at both of these restaurants in his past life, along with him.
To her, all fruit sandwiches taste pretty much the same. She doesn't know why, but he always has so many cute and adorable rankings.
After parking their car, they were disappointed to find that the coffee shop was closed. A notice on the door indicated that the owner was on vacation and the shop would be closed for five days.
"What a pity," she blinked, "it seems we'll just have to grab something to eat nearby."
Liang Siyu raised his chin slightly, gesturing for her to get in the car. The nearby country club, which his family frequented, had several restaurants, all of which were sure to be open and of high quality.
After the car turned two corners, a vast expanse of green came into view. Xu Aida vaguely felt that the green was too abundant, overwhelming, and for some reason, he felt a little stuffy in his chest.
They paused briefly at the gate. Liang Siyu handed over her membership card, and the gatekeeper smiled and said, "Long time no see." She gently pressed her hand to her chest, her throat tightening.
After the car entered, she saw the white manor-style building in the distance—it really was that country club.
The scene was strangely distorted, and a row of Roman columns seemed to be pressing down on her like a tidal wave. She tried to run away in terror, but she was getting closer and closer to the building.
Stop, stop, stop thinking about it. It's not real, it's all in the past, it's all in the past.
She was just there for dinner; she was sure there was no wedding, no wedding.
But her brain was like a computer infected with a Trojan virus, running programs she couldn't shut down.
Lush green lawn, pale yellow flower pillars, snow-white wedding dress, parents' tearful embrace, him smiling as he gazes into her eyes, the vow, "Until death do us part"...
Those frozen images from the depths of memory suddenly surfaced, like a volcano suddenly coming to life, spewing smoke and heat on its own.
Liang Siyu parked the car and opened the door for her, only to notice that something was wrong with her: "Ada, what's wrong?"
She stood still, her eyes somewhat unfocused, and there were tiny beads of sweat on the tip of her nose and the corners of her forehead.
Xu Aida forced himself to speak: "It's nothing."
But when she looked at the grass at her feet, which was so green it was almost dazzling, she felt a little dizzy and couldn't tell where she was.
A faint scent of champagne and flowers wafted in the air, making her throat feel greasy, as if her mouth had been smeared with wedding cake, so sweet it made her want to vomit.
She looked up, and he seemed to become a double image, sometimes in a light gray polo shirt, sometimes in a pure white suit.
I could hear the intermittent sound of a piano and the high-pitched laughter of flower girls.
Time, space, and herself are folded in a strange way.
He smiled and reached out his hand to her, but a voice floated down from above her head: "Don't go! Don't go!"
She couldn't go there, she couldn't go there; she slumped in the car, unable to take a single step.
"Are you too hungry? Do you have low blood sugar?" Seeing that she didn't move, Liang Siyu leaned over, rummaged through the central control and found a bottle of chocolate candies that she often ate, quickly poured out a handful and brought it to her mouth.
"Have a little, Ada?" He saw her lips tremble slightly, so he simply picked up a piece and fed it to her.
She didn't react at all, her teeth clenched tightly, making a soft grinding sound, and she trembled as she shrank back into her seat.
The shell of that candy melted from his body heat, leaving a trace of chocolate on her lips.
It's not low blood sugar!
He threw the candy beans on the ground and pressed his hands against her right hand: "Ada, Ada, can you feel it? I'm here, I'm holding you."
He stared intently into her eyes. She glanced at him briefly, but her expression quickly froze, her eyes vacant.
He didn't have time to think any further, gripped Xu Aida's upper arm tightly, and looked into her eyes: "Ada, look at me, look at me."
"It hurts!" she cried out, trying to pull away.
It's good that you can feel the pain. Liang Siyu actually breathed a sigh of relief, her heart returning to her chest.
Now he needed to use tactile perception to bring her back to reality. He took her hand and continued to guide her: "Ada, come, take my hand, hold me tight."
Xu Aida leaned back slightly, her fingers trembling, not wanting to get closer, but wanting to push him away.
The pain she felt earlier briefly brought her back to her senses, only to plunge her into another vortex.
At her home in Hangzhou, she mentioned for the first time that if things continued like this, it would be better to break up.
He gripped her tightly as if possessed, opening his mouth several times, but saying nothing.
He only let go when she cried out in pain and begged him to let go. He took two steps back in a panic and turned to leave.
With tears streaming down her face, she cried out to him, "Liang Siyu, don't you even want to ask why?"
She cried so much that she couldn't see if he turned around. She cried all night, but he didn't come back.
Two or three days later, she contacted a lawyer.
She was like a broken video recorder, buzzing and blazing hot as if it were about to explode.
The images flashed by haphazardly, one after another, right in front of her eyes, and she couldn't stop watching.
The pain in her arm became more and more pronounced, and she heard a sob in her throat.
The past and present completely overlapped, his face became blurred, and the edges of the image slowly turned gray and curled up until it turned completely black.
Liang Siyu held her hand and felt her fingers twitch slightly, but the force was so weak that it could hardly be called a grasping motion.
He took her hand and demonstrated: "Ada, come on, like this, hold my hand, okay?"
But her eyes started to wander again, and she mumbled a few words in a strange tone, which he didn't quite understand.
She suddenly burst into a sob, and large tears fell like hailstones pelting his heart.
He was terrified; all sorts of tactile intervention technologies and eye-guided techniques had been sent to outer space.
He touched her face to comfort her: "Ada? Ada? Don't scare me. Don't cry, don't cry, I'm here, I'm here."
In the seconds before she lost consciousness, her pupils dilated, her lips turned purple, and her breathing became extremely irregular—a few rapid gasps followed by a terrible pause.
Liang Siyu's heart almost stopped beating. Terrifying terms flashed through his mind: cardiac arrest, brain hypoxia. Medical training had only had negative effects.
He forced himself to calm down, but his hands were trembling so badly that he gave up on feeling for the wrist artery and instead lightly touched the carotid artery.
Fortunately, the area was still clearly undulating, like a stream breaking through the ice.
"Thump thump"—he felt his heart pounding wildly, announcing that he had finally come back to life.
He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, unbuckled his seatbelt, and carried her to the back seat.
She was still not fully awake, as soft as a lump of snow, almost melting and slipping through his fingers.
He carefully adjusted the seat, turned on the air conditioner, then took out a blanket, gently wrapped her in it, held her in his arms, and patted her arm lightly with a steady rhythm.
She kept her eyes closed, but tears still streamed down her face occasionally. Her shallow breathing, the soft grinding of her teeth, and the faint sobs almost broke his heart.
He tried to calm himself down, recalling each scene, but he had no idea where the problem lay.
How could this happen? She's been doing quite well lately. Although she's been staying up late for a few days, she's been sleeping soundly and hasn't had any nightmares.
This was the first time she had a sudden attack while conscious, completely different from past nightmares and stress.
With red eyes, he continued to pat her. He could soothe her body, but he couldn't cross that abyss, couldn't touch her soul. He could only wait for the storm to pass and for her to come back on her own.
He didn't know how much time had passed—maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour—before she slowly opened her eyes, tears still clinging to her eyelashes, her expression blank: "Huh? Me? Us?"
A sentence from DSM-5 came to his mind: After a traumatic flashback, the patient will have a period of memory lapse, difficulty in pinpointing the specific time, or even lack of specific memory of the episode.
He hesitated for two seconds. For a moment, he almost told the truth, but when he saw the fine sweat on her neck and the tear stains on her cheeks, his throat tightened.
He avoided her eyes, only looking at her still-purple lips, and comforted her, "You fainted, maybe it's low blood sugar. Lie down for a while longer, I'll get you a hot chocolate, okay?"
Not today, not now. They need to talk once she's recovered a bit, in a couple of days.
He dipped a tissue in mineral water and gently wiped her face.
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The author says: We've finally reached this point. For Ada, the plane crash death, rebirth, and the silent marriage in her previous life are all sources of stimulation and trauma.
The misdiagnosis trope in the copywriting is not just a trope, but a kind of misplaced truth; it's a story of "using the false to cultivate the true."
A reader once asked me if Ned knew about his past life. My answer was: Do you think Ada would tell him?
Now that the plot has reached this point, I can give a more definitive answer: Ada is 99.99% unlikely to tell Ned about her past life; this is determined by her personality.
But in this life, Ned has the opportunity to become a more mature partner. Though the truth may be misplaced, mature love can overcome any obstacle.
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