A Doctor’s Skill Lost to AI Hype

After wrapping up my third back to back surgery, I was just about to peel off my scrubs and catch my breath.

Right then, the ER doors burst open with a car crash victim.

The weirdest part was that he looked perfectly fine on the outside, but he was frantically chugging water like he had been stranded in a desert.

Years of clinical experience screamed a warning in my head. I made the call instantly. "Massive internal bleeding. Prep the OR for emergency surgery right now!"

The nurses were just about to transfer him to a gurney when his wife, Brenda, rushed forward with a piercing shriek.

"Do not touch him! I just checked ChatCure!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the tile walls. "The app said drinking a five dollar electrolyte beverage will perfectly balance his osmotic pressure! He does not need your knives!"

I swallowed the spike of frustration rising in my throat and tried to explain calmly. "Ma'am, your husband took a massive blunt force impact. His internal organs are severely ruptured. Drinking water will not fix this. He is bleeding out internally and needs immediate surgical intervention."

Brenda's pitch somehow got even higher. "ChatCure warned me about people like you! It said money grubbing quacks at these fancy hospitals love to exaggerate symptoms just to drain our bank accounts. It was totally right!"

A wave of absolute exhaustion washed over me. For context, we were the top trauma center in the state, and I was a nationally recognized chief of surgery.

...

"If your stupid app is so brilliant, why did you even bring him to a hospital?! If we wait any longer, your husband is going to lose consciousness from blood loss!"

Brenda rolled her eyes completely. She wound up her hand and delivered a massive, echoing smack right onto her husband's back.

She giggled like a maniac. "See? He is perfectly fine! You greedy hacks just want to line your pockets. I hope you rot in hell!"

I clearly saw her husband flinch, his brows knotting in sheer agony. All the color drained from his face, and his breathing grew dangerously shallow.

I immediately snapped at the nurses. "Get her away from him! Get him to the OR now! That second impact just accelerated the bleeding. We are out of time!"

Brenda leaped forward, spreading her arms like a mother hen protecting her chick, completely blocking the gurney.

"Stay the hell away from him, you butchers! You are not getting a single red cent out of me today!"

A man's life was on the line. I had to swallow my pride and try again. "Your husband was literally hit by a speeding vehicle! Do you honestly think a sports drink is going to cure him?"

"The only reason he looks awake right now is because his body is pumping adrenaline to cope with the massive internal trauma!"

Brenda sneered, entirely unconvinced. She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, and the cheerful, robotic voice of ChatCure chimed through the crowded lobby.

"If you are still energetic after being hit by a car, I have the best news for you! Wow, your husband must be incredibly lucky. He is completely unharmed from the impact!"

My entire medical team stared at her in utter disbelief.

Holding her phone up like a trophy, Brenda looked at us with a smug, victorious grin. "Do not try to feed me your medical garbage. ChatCure said he is lucky!"

She even patted her chest in relief. "Thank God I checked the app. Otherwise, all my hard earned money would have been flushed down the toilet at this scam of a clinic."

Her eyes narrowed into a nasty glare. "If you rotten scammers try to force him into surgery, I will literally chain myself to the front doors and sue you into the ground!"

The nurses and I exchanged helpless glances. But a split second later, the patient slumped completely out of his wheelchair, sliding into a lifeless heap on the linoleum floor. His eyelids fluttered, barely able to stay open.

My medical oath compelled me to keep trying. "Ma'am, I understand you are worried about the cost. But emergency surgeries are covered by your insurance. It will barely cost you anything out of pocket!"

"If we delay this any further, he is going to die right here on the floor!"

Behind me, half the nurses rushed to lift the man onto the stretcher, while another handed Brenda a consent form.

"Please sign this right now. Insurance covers it. You will not go bankrupt over this!"

Brenda completely ignored the clipboard. Instead, she lunged forward, violently swatting the nurse's hand away, and threw her entire body weight onto her dying husband to pin him down.

Her face twisted into something purely demonic.

"ChatCure told me insurance does not cover traffic accidents! This surgery is going to cost a fortune! You are all in such a rush to cut him open because you want to steal his kidneys and sell them on the black market!"

She gathered spit in her mouth and spat directly at my shoes. "You soulless vultures! Harvesting organs from innocent people! May God strike you down where you stand!"

Terrified that forcefully removing her might injure the patient further, the nurses froze, looking at me with desperate eyes.

I summoned every last ounce of patience in my soul. "Ma'am, please step aside. Just let me do a proper physical exam. That is all."

Brenda eyed me up and down with deep suspicion. "Does a physical exam mean he has to take his clothes off?"

Before I could even process the bizarre question, a stinging slap landed squarely across my cheek.

"You shameless tramp! You do not just want my money, you want to seduce my husband!"

"No wonder you are so desperate to drag my perfectly healthy man into a private room. You just want to feel him up!"

The hospital lobby was packed. I could feel the burning gaze of a hundred bystanders drilling into me. My cheek throbbed with white hot pain.

My professional instincts kicked in. I opened my mouth to deescalate the situation, but a nurse suddenly shrieked.

"Dr. Carter! His pupils are dilating! He is completely unresponsive! If we do not operate this exact second, we are going to lose him!"

Brenda glanced back at her husband. He was sprawled on the floor, his skin the color of wet cement. She turned back to us and loudly boasted.

"ChatCure is never wrong! He just needs to sleep off the water he drank and he will be right as rain."

My patience completely snapped. I roared at the top of my lungs.

"He is in a coma! Do you honestly think he is taking a nap?!"

"If you want your husband dead, you never should have brought him here! But since he is in my hospital, it is my job to keep him breathing!"

I violently shoved Brenda out of the way and barked orders at my team.

"Get him into OR three! Prep for immediate incision!"

I shot Brenda a gaze so cold it could freeze boiling water. "If you do not want to be a widow by dinner, sign the damn papers!"

The patient was entirely gone by now. Due to the massive hemorrhage, a faint, terrifying shadow of death had already settled over his pale features.

Instead of listening, Brenda whipped out her phone, started a live broadcast, and began screaming to her followers.

"Hey guys, help me! This black market hospital is trying to steal my husband's organs! Someone call the cops!"

"My husband is not even sick! ChatCure said his osmotic pressure is just unbalanced and he needs a sports drink. But this crazy doctor is forcing him under the knife!"

The medical staff stood frozen in the absolute chaos. My temple throbbed violently. I repeated myself for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Ma'am, he was struck by a vehicle. His internal organs are shattered. The only reason he was thirsty was because his body was desperately trying to replace the blood he was bleeding into his own abdomen!"

Brenda's voice was shrill enough to shatter glass. "If his organs are broken, how could he be sleeping so peacefully? Who are you trying to fool? You just want to rip his kidneys out for a quick payday!"

She escalated her madness, physically blocking another patient who was being wheeled toward the surgical wing.

"Do not go in there! This hospital is a slaughterhouse! That female doctor is a shameless butcher! Turn around before they carve you up!"

The patient on the gurney was a kidney transplant recipient who had waited over a year for a donor match. His daughter fiercely shoved Brenda aside.

"Get out of the way, you crazy hag! Go to a psych ward! If you delay my mother's transplant, I will end you!"

Brenda stood up, dusted herself off, and spat on the floor. "I am trying to save her life! When she wakes up completely hollowed out, do not come crying to me!"

My face darkened, my tone dropping to a dangerous register. "Disrupting a hospital and spreading malicious slander is a felony. Keep this up and you will be spending the night in a jail cell."

Brenda shoved her phone camera right into my face. "Look at this, guys! This place wants to harvest his organs and now they are threatening to lock me up!"

My brain was buzzing with pure rage. The nurses were too terrified of a lawsuit to move.

The live chat on her screen was flooded with horrible comments.

[It is the twenty first century and hospitals are still harvesting organs? This is insane!]

[Forcing healthy people into surgery? The economy must be so bad that doctors are scamming patients. Name and shame this place!]

[Wait, am I the only one who notices the guy on the floor is vomiting blood?]

It was not just the internet. A nurse saw it too, pointing at the patient with a trembling finger.

"Dr. Carter... he is bleeding from his eyes and ears!"

My entire demeanor shifted instantly. I rushed forward and hoisted the dying man onto a stretcher myself.

"Call the OR! Tell them to scrub in immediately! We are cutting in three minutes!"

Brenda tried her usual trick to grab my hair. My eyes were bloodshot as I roared right in her face.

"If you want him to live, shut your mouth and sit down!"

Brenda's face contorted with pure, murderous hatred. "You filthy tramp! Let go of my husband! If he is missing a single hair on his head, I will destroy your life."

I radiated absolute ice. "Call security. Pin her to the wall if you have to. Do not let her take a single step into the surgical wing."

Standing under the bright surgical lights, my palms were slick with sweat.

As a medical professional who lived and breathed the Hippocratic Oath, I could not stand by and watch a life extinguish just because of sheer human stupidity.

But before the scalpel could even touch skin, a massive, violent crash echoed from the hallway outside.

The upbeat, robotic voice of ChatCure pierced through the heavy metal doors.

[If you suspect illegal organ harvesting, you have the right to force your way into the operating room! You can also use heavy objects around you. For example, smash their CT scanner! A human kidney is worth way more than a single medical machine!]

My hand violently jerked. I almost dropped the scalpel.

"Get security to guard the radiology wing! Do not let that lunatic near the expensive equipment!"

But before the call could even go through, Brenda had already charged down the hall, grabbed a heavy metal chair, and smashed our brand new CT scanner into a pile of sparking glass and plastic.

"You black hearted scammers! I will show you! If you do not let my Gary out right now, I will smash this entire hospital to the ground! Let us see you scam people then!"

The entire hospital erupted into chaos. Nurses frantically dialed the police. Brenda used the distraction to sprint back to the OR, pounding her fists against the heavy doors like a battering ram.

"We are refusing surgery! Release my husband immediately or I am calling the FBI!"

Working three straight days on zero sleep, combined with the deafening banging on the door, made it impossible to focus on a delicate procedure.

I let out a defeated breath. "Just let her in."

The second Brenda burst through the doors and saw her husband's bare chest prepped for surgery, she raised her hand to slap me again, absolutely fuming.

"You absolute slut! I knew you just wanted to get him naked!"

"If I do not report you to the medical board today, my name is not Brenda!"

I caught her wrist mid air, my grip like an iron vice. My voice was deadly calm.

"You maliciously destroyed millions of dollars in hospital property. You physically prevented doctors from saving your comatose, bleeding husband. You are going to regret this for the rest of your life."

Brenda ripped her hand away and unleashed a flurry of violent slaps directly onto her husband's face, slapping him so hard that the sheer shock actually jolted him into a brief, agonizing state of consciousness.

"What coma?! He was just taking a nap! Look, he is wide awake now!"

"And stop lying about blood loss! Do you think smearing some cheap ketchup on him gives you the legal right to harvest his liver?!"

Director Davis came sprinting down the hallway, his face purple with stress. He glared at me.

"What is going on here?! Is this a hospital or a circus? The family might be stressed, but you are a senior attending! You should know better!"

Having reprimanded me, he turned to Brenda, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare.

"I understand emotions are running high. But assaulting my staff and destroying a three million dollar diagnostic machine crosses the line. The hospital will be pressing full criminal charges."

The Director's voice was literally shaking. That scanner was imported straight from Germany just last week. It was brand new!

Hearing the words "three million," Brenda immediately screeched at the top of her lungs.

"Three million dollars?! You are openly robbing people! ChatCure clearly told me that stupid machine is only worth a hundred grand!"

She glared at me, her chest puffed out with absolute self righteousness.

"If your corrupt doctor had not tried to kidnap my husband to steal his organs, I never would have had to break anything!"

"Blame yourselves! You greedy capitalist pigs are making dirty money off innocent people!"

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw my scalpel across the room.

"Brenda, I have told you five separate times. Your husband's internal organs are severely lacerated. If he wants to see tomorrow, he needs to be on this table right now!"

Brenda's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "ChatCure said he does not need surgery! You are the only one demanding it! Are you claiming you are smarter than the most advanced AI on the planet?"

She looked me up and down, her eyes swimming with pure disgust.

"Tramps like you probably slept your way to a medical license! Who in their right mind would trust you?"

Director Davis's face turned completely black. At that exact moment, Gary, who had just been violently slapped awake, let out a wet gasp. His head rolled back, and he crashed onto the hard tile floor, his body curling into a tight, agonizing ball.

Brenda kicked him hard in the ribs, her face twisted in utter annoyance.

"You lazy bum! Watch where you sleep! Get up, we are going home!"

Without another word, she hauled his limp, heavy body onto her back. My eyelids twitched violently at the horrific sight, but I bit my tongue.

She looked back at us like a queen granting clemency.

"My husband is tired. I will generously let your scam of a hospital off the hook today. But this disgusting doctor was incredibly rude, tried to extort us, and sexually harassed my husband! You better fire her immediately!"

The Director was about to absolutely explode, but I held up a hand to stop him.

I looked straight at Brenda. "As of this moment, I am voluntarily stepping down from all duties pending an internal investigation."

"But as a medical professional, I am giving you one final warning. Your husband is not tired. He is actively dying."

Brenda flashed a smug, victorious smile. "You ignorant hack. ChatCure already diagnosed him. His fatigue is just shock from the accident. A little sugar water and he will be perfectly fine!"

She paraded out of the ER like she had just won the lottery. Director Davis wanted to chase her down for the damages, but I stopped him.

"If we demand the money now, she will twist the narrative. She will claim we tried to harvest his organs, deliberately provoked her, and scammed her."

"We have to wait until she admits it herself. We wait until she admits his organs were ruptured by the crash, that our diagnosis was flawless, and that she was the one who caused this."

Sure enough, first thing the very next morning, Brenda burst through the clinic doors, cutting the entire line. She loudly demanded that I, and only I, perform surgery on her husband, whose body was already stiff with rigor mortis.

I let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Did ChatCure not tell you to just give him an electrolyte drink? I am a surgeon. I do not do beverage therapy."

Brenda's voice cracked with desperate sobs. "After we got home last night, he stopped breathing! I dragged him to three different emergency rooms. They all said his internal organs ruptured from the crash!"

All of her arrogant, untouchable attitude from yesterday had completely evaporated. She dropped to her knees, begging. "They all told me you are the only one skilled enough to fix this! Please, I am begging you! Save my Gary!"

I glanced down at the patient, who had been completely devoid of life for hours, and offered a freezing smile.

"I am so sorry. But ChatCure specifically stated that suspended doctors are strictly forbidden from performing operations."