It was just past 8:00 p.m. when someone banged on the clinic door.
Fenzaar looked up from his half-sipped herbal tonic.
Another knock. Faster, panicked.
A teenage boy stood outside, panting.
“Doctor! Please—my uncle says his chest is about to explode!”
Fenzaar squinted at the sky. Barely dark.
“Exploding already? It’s not even bedtime. Fine. Gloves it is.”
—
At the patient’s home:
A man in his seventies sat slumped on a bamboo chair, shirt halfway open, chest heaving.
His face was flushed. Hands clenched over his sternum.
Fenzaar stepped in, calm as ever.
“Good evening. You look unwell.
Let’s make sure it’s not death.”
He pressed a stethoscope to the man’s chest. Checked vitals.
Heartbeat: Fast, but rhythmic.
Breath: Shallow. No crackles.
Skin: Sweaty, but not pale.
Fenzaar tilted his head.
“What exactly happened?”
The man groaned.
“Burning—right here. Like fire climbing my chest.
I thought it was my heart! I was fine until I laid down after dinner.”
Fenzaar nodded once.
“What did you eat?”
“Fried rice. Salted egg. Pork belly. Pickled mango.
I always eat like this—never had a problem.”
Fenzaar blinked. Then blinked again.
Eko blinked behind him.
“Caloric bomb: Food that tastes like heaven, digests like revenge.”
“Indeed.” Fenzaar reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial.
“Open your mouth.”
The man obeyed.
A spritz of minty mist.
He gagged slightly. Fenzaar leaned in, frowning.
“All your molars are gone? How are you chewing?”
“…I tried. My grandkid stole my teeth last week to play ‘pirate king’ and lost them.”
Eko chirped.
“Sir, you have not had proper molar function for seven days. This is highly relevant.”
Fenzaar raised a hand.
“No conclusions yet. Wait for the drug effect. If you improve, that’s our answer.”
The man paused. Blinked. Processing…
Then—
Buuurp.
He sat up straighter.
“…What? It’s easing. What was that?”
“Relief in a bottle,” Fenzaar said smoothly.
“You don’t need a priest. You need digestion.”
The man blinked again.
“I thought it was a heart attack.”
Fenzaar nodded.
“Not a heart attack. Just unchewed food and stomach acid staging a rebellion.”
“You’ve just survived: Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease. Congratulations.”
Eko chirped approvingly.
The man blinked. Then stared.
“I almost wrote a will.”
“Save that for the next sausage smoothie,” Fenzaar said, standing.
“And retrieve your dentures—before your stomach files another complaint.”
—
:: Fenzaar’s Case Notes ::
• Diagnosis: GERD (Acid Reflux) mimicking cardiac event
• Cause: Fatty dinner + bedtime + missing teeth. (Possibly revenge from the mango.)
• Symptoms: Chest pain, panic, dramatic regret
• Treatment: Antacid mist. Dental guilt.
• Prognosis: Will survive if he eats like a monk for a week.
• Recommendation: Early dinners. Sit up after eating. And find the damn teeth.
“You were right to call the doctor.
Some heart problems hurt less
than a gut in full rebellion.”
— Eko.
⸻
≡ Next Case : He Learned to Swipe Before He Learned to Speak
He doesn’t cry. Doesn’t talk. Just stares at the light.
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