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Wednesday 19 August 2026 01:46:55 GMT
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St. Catherine’s Medical Center ran on rules. Rules about sterilization. Rules about documentation. Rules about patient confidentiality. Rules about professional boundaries. And if there was one person in the entire hospital who treated those rules like sacred text, it was Dr. Lena Schuett. At twenty-eight, Lena was already one of the hospital’s best internists, known for her diagnostic accuracy, terrifyingly thorough notes, and the ability to make senior surgeons feel underprepared during case discussions. Nurses trusted her, residents feared disappointing her, and administrators loved the fact that she had never received a single formal complaint since joining the hospital. She was reviewing lab results at the nurses’ station when Dr. Ling appeared beside her with a coffee. “Please tell me you’ve seen the consult request.” Lena didn’t look up. “If this is another influencer asking for a private floor because fluorescent lighting is bad for their aura, I’m leaving the country.” Ling choked on her coffee. “Not an influencer. An actual celebrity.” Lena finally looked up, already unimpressed. “That’s somehow worse.” “Miu Natsha.” The name was familiar even to someone who actively avoided entertainment news. Actress, singer, international brand ambassador-the kind of famous that made airports shut down. Lena sighed. “What happened?” “Palpitations during rehearsal. Dizziness, near-syncope, chest tightness. Vitals stabilized in the emergency department, ECG showed some ectopic activity, and cardiology wants a full workup.” “Assign Dr. Lookhmee.” Ling smiled with far too much satisfaction. “Already tried. She traded the consult to you.” “Traitor.” “Her exact words were, ‘Lena is the only one scary enough not to get dazzled by celebrity nonsense.’” Lena closed the chart. “I hate all of you.” …… Room 814 was unusually quiet. Lena knocked once before entering. And immediately stopped. The patient was standing on the far side of the room, not sitting on the bed, wearing a black mask and holding a disinfectant wipe like a weapon. An unopened bottle of hand sanitizer sat beside her purse. Another sanitizer bottle was already clipped to the purse itself. Miu looked at Lena, then at the chair near the desk. “Has that been sanitized?” Lena glanced at the chair. “Yes.” “With what?” “…Hospital-grade disinfectant.” “Which brand?” Lena stared at her for a full second. This was going to be a long consultation. “I’m Dr. Lena Schuett,” she said, setting the chart down. “I’ll be handling your evaluation.” Miu’s eyes narrowed slightly above the mask. “You don’t look impressed to see me.” “Should I be?” That seemed to surprise her. Most people probably recognized her immediately and became either overly excited or painfully deferential. Lena was doing neither. “That’s new,” Miu murmured. “Let’s start with your symptoms. When did the palpitations begin?” Miu finally sat down…after wiping the chair again herself. “About three weeks ago. They were occasional at first, but they’ve become more frequent.” “Associated with exertion?” “Sometimes during dance rehearsals. Sometimes when I’m resting.” “Any loss of consciousness?” “No. But I came close yesterday.” Lena nodded and began typing. “Any history of structural heart disease, arrhythmias, thyroid dysfunction, or anxiety disorders?” Miu was quiet for a beat. “No diagnosed anxiety disorder.” The hesitation didn’t escape Lena’s notice, but she didn’t push it yet. “Your ECG shows intermittent supraventricular ectopic beats, likely exacerbated by sympathetic overactivity and significant sleep deprivation.” Miu blinked. “I’m sorry, are you casting a spell on me?” Lena looked up from the chart. “What?” “English, please.” “…Your heart is having a few extra beats because you’re stressed, overworked, and not sleeping enough.” “Oh.” Miu pointed at her. “That version was much better.” ~~continuation in the comments ~~ #lenamiu #fypp #thaigl #fanfic #miulena
St. Catherine’s Medical Center ran on rules. Rules about sterilization. Rules about documentation. Rules about patient confidentiality. Rules about professional boundaries. And if there was one person in the entire hospital who treated those rules like sacred text, it was Dr. Lena Schuett. At twenty-eight, Lena was already one of the hospital’s best internists, known for her diagnostic accuracy, terrifyingly thorough notes, and the ability to make senior surgeons feel underprepared during case discussions. Nurses trusted her, residents feared disappointing her, and administrators loved the fact that she had never received a single formal complaint since joining the hospital. She was reviewing lab results at the nurses’ station when Dr. Ling appeared beside her with a coffee. “Please tell me you’ve seen the consult request.” Lena didn’t look up. “If this is another influencer asking for a private floor because fluorescent lighting is bad for their aura, I’m leaving the country.” Ling choked on her coffee. “Not an influencer. An actual celebrity.” Lena finally looked up, already unimpressed. “That’s somehow worse.” “Miu Natsha.” The name was familiar even to someone who actively avoided entertainment news. Actress, singer, international brand ambassador-the kind of famous that made airports shut down. Lena sighed. “What happened?” “Palpitations during rehearsal. Dizziness, near-syncope, chest tightness. Vitals stabilized in the emergency department, ECG showed some ectopic activity, and cardiology wants a full workup.” “Assign Dr. Lookhmee.” Ling smiled with far too much satisfaction. “Already tried. She traded the consult to you.” “Traitor.” “Her exact words were, ‘Lena is the only one scary enough not to get dazzled by celebrity nonsense.’” Lena closed the chart. “I hate all of you.” …… Room 814 was unusually quiet. Lena knocked once before entering. And immediately stopped. The patient was standing on the far side of the room, not sitting on the bed, wearing a black mask and holding a disinfectant wipe like a weapon. An unopened bottle of hand sanitizer sat beside her purse. Another sanitizer bottle was already clipped to the purse itself. Miu looked at Lena, then at the chair near the desk. “Has that been sanitized?” Lena glanced at the chair. “Yes.” “With what?” “…Hospital-grade disinfectant.” “Which brand?” Lena stared at her for a full second. This was going to be a long consultation. “I’m Dr. Lena Schuett,” she said, setting the chart down. “I’ll be handling your evaluation.” Miu’s eyes narrowed slightly above the mask. “You don’t look impressed to see me.” “Should I be?” That seemed to surprise her. Most people probably recognized her immediately and became either overly excited or painfully deferential. Lena was doing neither. “That’s new,” Miu murmured. “Let’s start with your symptoms. When did the palpitations begin?” Miu finally sat down…after wiping the chair again herself. “About three weeks ago. They were occasional at first, but they’ve become more frequent.” “Associated with exertion?” “Sometimes during dance rehearsals. Sometimes when I’m resting.” “Any loss of consciousness?” “No. But I came close yesterday.” Lena nodded and began typing. “Any history of structural heart disease, arrhythmias, thyroid dysfunction, or anxiety disorders?” Miu was quiet for a beat. “No diagnosed anxiety disorder.” The hesitation didn’t escape Lena’s notice, but she didn’t push it yet. “Your ECG shows intermittent supraventricular ectopic beats, likely exacerbated by sympathetic overactivity and significant sleep deprivation.” Miu blinked. “I’m sorry, are you casting a spell on me?” Lena looked up from the chart. “What?” “English, please.” “…Your heart is having a few extra beats because you’re stressed, overworked, and not sleeping enough.” “Oh.” Miu pointed at her. “That version was much better.” ~~continuation in the comments ~~ #lenamiu #fypp #thaigl #fanfic #miulena

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