Chapter 93: A Patient in need

Jillian arrived at the research wing of the hospital early, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The weight of her new title settled on her shoulders as she stepped into the state-of-the-art lab, where her team was already waiting.

Dr. Zhang stood beside a group of researchers, gesturing for Jillian to join them. "Everyone, meet Dr. Jillian. As you know, she's now leading our experimental cardiology division. I trust you'll give her the same respect and dedication you've always shown."

A round of polite greetings followed, but Jillian could sense the curiosity in their eyes. Some seemed eager to work with her, while others appeared skeptical of her rapid rise. She would have to earn their trust.

Once introductions were done, she was handed her first major project—a revolutionary study on bioprinted heart tissue regeneration. If successful, it could pave the way for treating severe cardiac damage without transplants.

"This research has potential," Jillian murmured as she scanned the files. "But we're missing something. We need stronger clinical evidence before we can take the next step."

One of the senior researchers, Dr. Lin, crossed his arms. "We've been stuck on that issue for months. If you have a solution, we'd love to hear it."

Jillian met his gaze confidently. "Then let's find one together."

As the meeting continued, she laid out her plan—more extensive testing, collaboration with international experts, and a timeline for moving toward human trials. By the time they left the room, the team was no longer just observing her—they were listening.

A week into her new role, Jillian faced her first real test as Lead Specialist in Experimental Cardiology. The research team had been making slow progress on their bioprinted heart tissue regeneration project, and frustration was growing.

"We're hitting the same wall over and over," Dr. Lin sighed during a team meeting. "Without additional data from human trials, we can't move forward."

Jillian tapped her pen against the table, deep in thought. "Then let's expand our research pool. We need more collaboration. If we can't get the data we need from our current models, we should reach out to international institutes that have attempted similar studies."

Dr. Lin raised a skeptical brow. "That could take months—if they even agree."

Jillian smiled. "Then I better start making some calls."

Instead of waiting for the usual bureaucratic channels, she reached out directly to renowned cardiac research institutes in Germany, the US, and Japan. Her reputation from the successful septal myectomy had already reached some of these experts, and after a few intense discussions, three international teams agreed to share their preliminary data.

A week later, Jillian stood before her team with fresh reports in hand. "We now have access to breakthrough findings that might accelerate our trials."

Dr. Lin, clearly impressed but trying not to show it, nodded. "I'll admit, that's faster than I expected."

Jillian simply grinned. "Then let's get to work."

Her bold move had paid off—but she knew that with greater risks came greater challenges. The real test was yet to come.

Jillian sat in her office, scrolling through recent medical journals, her mind focused on advancing experimental cardiology. Her new role had been exhilarating, but there was something about the absence of direct patient interactions that left a hollow feeling inside her. Research was groundbreaking, but saving lives with her own hands—that was what had always driven her.

A firm knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the time—she wasn't expecting any meetings.

"Come in," she called, pushing her tablet aside.

The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged couple. Their faces were etched with worry, their hands tightly clasped together. Jillian recognized that look—it was the same expression she had seen on countless family members desperate for hope.

"Dr. Jillian," the woman said, her voice unsteady. "We're sorry to come unannounced, but we didn't know where else to turn."

Jillian gestured for them to sit. "Take your time. How can I help?"

The man handed her a thick medical file. "Our son, Eric, is twenty-one. He was diagnosed with restrictive cardiomyopathy six months ago. We've consulted several hospitals, but none of the specialists are willing to take the risk. They said the best they can do is manage the symptoms."

Jillian flipped through the file, her eyes scanning the test results, MRI scans, echocardiograms, and failed treatment plans. Restrictive cardiomyopathy was one of the most difficult heart conditions to treat. Unlike other cardiomyopathies, this one stiffened the heart's walls, preventing them from filling with blood properly. Over time, it could lead to heart failure.

She looked up. "Has anyone discussed a transplant?"

The mother's lips trembled. "He's not a candidate. The risk is too high, and there are no available donors that match his rare blood type."

Jillian leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers together. "You mentioned other hospitals. What have they suggested?"

"They told us to prepare for the worst," the father said, his voice thick with emotion. "They're giving him less than a year."

Jillian's heart clenched. Less than a year.

She looked at the boy's latest test results—his condition was deteriorating faster than expected. With standard treatments failing, it was only a matter of time before his heart gave out.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?" Jillian asked carefully.

The mother reached forward, grasping Jillian's hands. Her grip was desperate but firm. "We heard about your work, your experimental procedures. If anyone can help, it's you."

Jillian hesitated. Her current role wasn't centered on patient care anymore—her focus was on experimental research and innovative treatments. If she took this case, she would be going beyond her assigned duties.

But how could she turn away a patient who had no other options?

She exhaled, shifting her gaze between the anxious parents and the medical file in front of her.

"I need time to review this case thoroughly," Jillian finally said. "Give me a day."

Tears welled in the mother's eyes as she whispered, "Thank you."

As the couple left, Jillian stared at the boy's test results, her mind already working through potential solutions. There were new techniques she had been studying, novel procedures being tested in leading hospitals worldwide.

But the real question wasn't whether she could find a solution.

It was whether the hospital would allow her to perform it—and if she was willing to risk her position to save a life.

That evening, Jillian sat in her apartment, Eric's case file spread across her desk. The scans, the test results, and the failed treatment attempts all pointed to one truth—the boy didn't have much time left.

She leaned back, rubbing her temples. "If I take this case, I'll be stepping outside my role," she muttered to herself.

But wasn't this why she became a doctor in the first place?

She pulled out her tablet and began searching through international medical journals. If a breakthrough existed, she needed to find it now.

A few hours later, her phone buzzed. It was Dr. Zhang.

"Jillian," his voice came through, steady as ever. "I heard about the family that approached you today."

She hesitated. "Did the board say anything?"

"Not yet. But you should know—if you take this case, you'll have to fight for approval. The hospital won't take unnecessary risks, and some of the senior doctors are already questioning whether you're overstepping your authority."

Jillian exhaled. "I understand."

Dr. Zhang was silent for a moment. Then he said, "What do you think?"

She knew what he was asking. He wasn't questioning the board's decision—he was asking if she, Jillian, believed this surgery was possible.