Chapter 197 Torturing Conscience
Merck's laboratory is not newly built. It is located next to Pattaya Hospital and is connected to a large hospital building.
The place was ready, and Merck obtained the right to use some facilities of Pattaya Hospital in the name of charitable donation.
For Western pharmaceutical companies, the most valuable thing is experimental data, not those seemingly high-tech medical equipment.
The collaboration between Luca and Merck Laboratories is also carried out through Pattaya Hospital.
"You mean we just take the man to the hospital?" asked Ron.
"Yes, the doctors here will see the patients, register their information, and then transfer them to the next door."
"Cunning Westerners." Ron complained.
Merck completely isolated itself from the entire drug trial process. The patient was found by local tyrants like Ron, and his medical records were registered at Bhatia Hospital.
"You know, man, that's what Westerners like. They're obviously bandits, but they always like to portray themselves as gentlemen."
"Just like call girls always call themselves ladies?"
“Yeah, that’s right,” Luca laughed.
They walked up the stairs into a spotlessly clean marble foyer, where a large fan at the entrance provided a pleasant cool breeze.
Luca spoke a few words to the counter clerk, then took Ron through the corridor to the more secluded inpatient area.
After asking a handyman and a nurse, he finally found the person that Merck had instructed him to do.
He was a short and very thin male doctor sitting at a table piled with messy things.
"Dr. Hamid?" Luca asked.
The doctor was writing something and didn't look up.
"Yes." He answered impatiently.
"I'm Luca, sent by Merck."
Dr. Hamid immediately stopped writing, slowly raised his head and stared at them with a look of secretly worried curiosity.
"They probably called you to tell you I'd be coming?" Luca said softly, with a tone that suggested it.
"Yes, that's right." Hamid smiled and regained his composure.
He stood up and shook hands across the table, and Luca introduced Ron next to him.
"This is Mr. Soul."
“Of course, Dr. Sur!” Hamid shook hands vigorously, as if pouring out all his emotions.
"Do you know me?" Ron asked curiously.
"Every doctor in Mumbai knows you." The impatience on Hamid's face had long disappeared, and now only enthusiasm remained.
"That's easy, we can save ourselves from all that useless nonsense." Luca smiled happily.
See, this kind of business can be done with half the effort when Ron is in charge.
"So where are the people?" Hamid put away his previous attitude of being too busy to be polite.
He took the initiative to ask where the patient was, which sounded unreal coming from a doctor in an Indian hospital.
Thousands of patients are received here every day, and no doctor will ask where the patients are.
Hamid's eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and shone brightly behind polished gold-rimmed lenses.
"Oh, patient." Ron turned his head.
"The patient is outside, you have to come with us." Luca replied.
"Outside?" Hamid was a little surprised.
"Yes, there are too many. Just come, just come." Luca said a few words in Hindi to adapt to the local customs.
“You’re starting to look a bit Indian,” Hamid laughed.
"Yes, I love India more than Brazil!" Luca said shamelessly.
"Okay, I have to get ready." Hamid took off his glasses and rubbed the dent they made on his nose.
"No problem, I think we have enough time." Ron shook his head in an Indian way.
Hamid called his assistant, gave him a few instructions, then picked up his notebook and walked out the door with Ron and the others.
There are always patients gathering outside the hospital gate. Poor patients have to walk to the hospital with difficulty, while rich people come to the hospital by taxis and private cars.
Others lay like rags in an alley not far from the hospital.
The clothes were so dirty that they were almost the same color as the road, and were similar to the rags used by street vendors in Mumbai.
Ron and the others passed by the rags on the ground. There were a pair of eyes there, like a pool of stagnant water, just like the eyes of the people waiting to die in the shelter.
"The patient is in Fourth Pass Lane." Luca led the way.
“It’s close to my old clinic,” Hamid replied.
"Yes, it's not far from us."
They walked through two alleys and stopped in front of a dilapidated house in the open air.
There was a long queue at the door, with men, women, young and old, and people of all kinds.
"What are these?" Hamid's eyes were filled with shock, but also with a hint of eagerness.
"Part of it," Luca said as he stepped into the yard, "we don't know what kind of people Merck needs, so we need you to identify them."
The new drugs developed by Merck are all aimed at internal medicine diseases such as tumors, which is not Ron's area of expertise.
So they need an internist like Hamid to make a diagnosis and then preliminarily screen out qualified candidates.
A table in the yard was piled high with agreements and rosters. Anand was leading the procession, and a representative from Merck was also present.
Hamid treated this as his own desk in the hospital, and those waiting in line were patients, even though none of them were healthy and had anything to do with illness.
Yes, most of the people needed for Phase I clinical trials are healthy. For specific cancer patients, Ron and his team will look for them from hospices, so there are plenty of options.
Hamid beckoned a man forward, examined his body, asked a few casual questions, and then an assistant fastened a green wristband around the man's wrist.
This means that the inspection has passed, just like the qualified label affixed to the product before it leaves the factory.
Luca immediately pulled the man aside and slapped a densely written English agreement in front of him.
"This is the informed consent form. Please take a look at it and sign it if you have no problem."
"Sir, will I get 500 rupees after signing?" the man asked timidly.
"Yes, just sign it." Luca was holding a bundle of rupees, his fingers sliding across the edges of the banknotes.
The man picked up the pen awkwardly, but was in a dilemma.
"What's wrong? Do you want to go back on your word?" Luca said in a bad tone.
"No, sir! I can't read and I can't write my own name." The man hurriedly explained.
"Handprint, fingerprint is fine too." Luca put a box of ink on the table.
The man immediately threw down his pen, rubbed his thumb in the ink box, and then pressed hard on the agreement, and it was done.
"Here's your money, take it and line up at the side." Luca stuffed the rupees into his hand.
The man took it happily, then shouted loudly to the back of the team. Soon, several women with children rushed over.
They surrounded the man, laughing and shouting, patting his shoulders and back affectionately. An old man kept stroking the man's head, praising him for being sensible and capable.
The man gave the money to his family. The women, children and the elderly were very satisfied, and the man was also very satisfied.
They didn't even look at the agreement on the table. They couldn't understand it. The paper written in English was like a mystery to them.
They didn't care. There were eight or nine people in the family, and all they cared about was 500 rupees.
Ron's brows were furrowed, his eyes worried.
This is cannibalism!
Who is being eaten, and who is the eater?
He glanced at the Merck representative, Dr. Hamid, Luca, and the man's family present, and was speechless.
Someone got the money, and those who were queuing in the yard were excited.
They were eager to try, their eyes full of anticipation.
They waited to be eaten, and were willing to be eaten.
"He can't speak?" Luca's strange cry attracted Ron's attention.
"But he's healthy, sir."
There were two men standing in front of Hamid's desk, and they looked like brothers.
One of them had a dull expression, drooling, and was mumbling something. The other person, who was supporting him, was trying to explain.
"He's a moron!" Luca frowned.
"But the doctor put a green wristband on him." The speaker grabbed his brother's stiff and uncontrollable arm and tried to prove it.
"Does he know what he's going to do next?"
"No problem, he totally agrees."
“But.” Luca was a little troubled. He turned to look at the Merck representative, who had a blank expression on his face.
He looked at Dr. Hamid at the table, who was examining the "patient" and paying no attention to anything else.
In the end, Luca could only look at Ron, hoping that "Dr. Soul" could give him some advice.
"Forget it," Ron said, a little disappointed. "We..."
"No problem, the doctor said it's qualified, so take it." Anand suddenly came over.
"Yes, yes! No problem, my brother is very healthy." The man held down his brother's arm and pressed his fingerprint on the agreement.
"Hmm?" Ron frowned and looked at Anand.
"Ron, just be kind enough to take him in," he explained quietly.
"Wait, kind?"
"Yes, look at how tortured that little brother is. He must often not have enough to eat."
Following the direction of Anand's finger, Ron finally realized that something was wrong with the brothers.
The elder brother was sturdy and had smooth skin, while the younger brother was as thin as a stick, with scars of varying sizes on his arms and face.
"If we take him in now, since he can make money, his brother will definitely stop torturing him, and maybe he can live a little longer."
Ron was silent for a while. Clinical trials are not just about giving an injection. They require long-term follow-up by medical staff.
They agreed to let this mentally retarded man be a medicine man, so that his brother would no longer beat and scold him, and he would not disappear for no reason after reaching a certain age.
Should I take him in as a medicine man, or should I reject this mentally retarded person with no cognitive ability and let him fend for himself?
No matter what choice Ron makes, it is his conscience that is being tortured.
He was silent and did not answer.
Anand waved his hand, and the older brother happily pulled his younger brother aside to wait. They would be sent to Merck's laboratory today.
Ron wondered what the situation was like for local generic drug manufacturers in India.
The sound of a child crying interrupted his reverie.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"This woman wants her own child to come." Luca was also numb.
"What?"
"She failed the test," Luca pointed at the woman in front of him, "She said her child is fine."
"Sir, my daughter is really fine. She is very healthy." The thin woman pleaded bitterly, "We haven't eaten for several days. We have no money and will die."
Ron took a deep breath and said, "Give her a hundred rupees and let her go."
"Anand, you watch here."
After giving instructions, Ron left the yard without looking back.
He couldn't stay in this damn place.
(End of this chapter)
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