Making their way back to the parlor, Seven couldn’t shake the anticipation building within him, eager to share his insights with the Fortier family.
Upon their return, Seven found Alain, Amélie, and Leona engaged in hushed conversation. Sensing their inattention, Seven cleared his throat, signaling his presence.
“Grandpa Alain,” Seven addressed Alain respectfully, his tone calm yet authoritative. “After reviewing your son’s reports and scans, I now have a better understanding of his condition.”
Alain’s gaze brightened with hope as Seven’s words hung in the air. “Please tell us what you think.”
At Alain’s urging, Seven took a moment to gather his thoughts, ensuring clarity and precision in his explanation before speaking. “I’ve previously treated a patient who had sustained a traumatic brain injury from a car accident as well. He regained consciousness and full mobility after eight months using traditional Chinese medicine techniques. However, that patient received immediate treatment upon sustaining his injury.
“Your son’s case is different in that he’s had a few surgeries over 27 years. And unlike my patient’s condition at the time, his brain is now in a stable state.
“If you’re open to alternative medicine, I’d like to propose the use of acupuncture and electro-acupuncture to aid his recovery. These methods have shown encouraging results in stimulating neural pathways and promoting neuroplasticity.”
“Acupuncture?” Alain echoed in curiosity.
“Yes,” Seven affirmed, his confidence unwavering.
Mulling over Seven’s proposal, a sense of resolve took root. Alain then asked, “Seven, can you give us an idea of the duration and frequency you have in mind?”
Seven answered without hesitation. “To do that, I’d first have to perform a round of needling to observe the patient’s reactions. Can I do it right now?”
Everyone’s faces lit up with excitement. “Definitely! Leona, please show Seven to Angus’s room.”
“Yes, Dad,” Leona obediently complied. “Seven, please come with me.”
As they ambled to the room, a surge of determination coursed through him. He thought, This man has been in a coma for 27 years, a result of an attempt on his life. I can’t help but empathize with him and his family. I hope I can make a difference.
Together, they entered the room, the ambiance sterile and hushed. Reaching his bedside, Seven took a moment to assess his condition, checking his pulse with practiced ease before rolling out the gleaming set of needles. His movements, deliberate and focused, drew interest from Leona, who watched intently from the sidelines.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Seven, how long is it going to take?” Leona inquired.
“Between 20 and 30 minutes,” Seven replied.
“May I observe?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes, you may. But I hope you’re not squeamish at the sight of needles being inserted into your husband’s body,” Seven cautioned.
“I… I don’t think I’ll be, but if I am, I’ll leave discreetly so as not to affect your treatment,” Leona reassured.
Accepting her response, Seven began, his movements fluid and ritualistic. Unbeknownst to Leona, Seven had invoked his internal ‘qi’ or cultivated life force to perform the needling.
Throughout the process, Seven, whose face was now streaked with perspiration, remained completely absorbed in his work, his concentration steadfast. Leona, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the feeling she was witnessing something extraordinary before her.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Seven completed the procedure and stepped back from the bed, his expression thoughtful yet satisfied.
Capturing this scene, Leona unconsciously released her breath, grabbed the tissue box from the bedside drawer, and offered it to Seven. “Thank you for your hard work, Seven.”
“You’re welcome, Madam Leona,” Seven said, his tone tinged with quiet optimism, “but it’s now time for you to assist me.”
“What do you mean?” Leona replied, puzzled.
“I’d like you to spend the next half hour talking to him. It could be about anything, just keep calling his name, and it might be even better if you touch him as you’re talking.”
Leona nodded and moved an armchair to his bedside. She sat down, cleared her throat, stroked her husband’s arm, and began to speak. “Angus, it’s me, Leona! Can you hear me, Angus? I’ve missed you so much! Aren’t you just a lazy bum? When are you going to wake up, hmm? …”
……
Leona continued talking to him, her voice sometimes filled with tenderness and hope, other times, laden with coquetry.
About 15 minutes into her rambles, his eyelids began to flutter, and a faint furrow appeared on his brow. Leona’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in astonishment.
“Seven! Seven! Look!” Leona exclaimed, her frame slightly trembling.
Seven, who had been observing from a respectful distance, calmly approached his bedside, his gaze scanning Angus’s face intently. “Keep talking, Madam Leona. Keep calling his name. You can even try to say things to stimulate him,” he urged, his tone thick with encouragement.
Leona nodded, her lips quivering as she continued to speak to her husband. “Angus, did you hear another man’s voice? Are you jealous? Please, wake up! If you don’t, I’ll leave you for another man!”
As Leona’s increasingly outrageous words filled the room, his eyelids trembled; this time, it was more pronounced. Suddenly, his lips parted slightly, and a soft “Lee” escaped from his parched mouth. It was a small but significant sign of consciousness returning.
Tears welled up in Leona’s eyes as she grasped his hand. “Oh, Angus! Are you scared now? Hurry up and wake up, or I won’t hang around any longer!” Leona croaked with emotion.
Seven watched the scene unfold, struck with wonder. It had succeeded in stirring Angus from his deep slumber, and now, with Leona’s provocation and touch, he was beginning to emerge from the shadows of unconsciousness.
With a sense of cautious optimism, Seven stepped back, allowing Leona to continue her unilateral conversation with her husband. It was a pivotal moment, the first glimmer of hope after years of darkness.
