But the middle-aged man did not answer. He kept gasping for breath and shook his head hard.
"N-no... I don't know. Help me." It took the middle-aged man a long time to force those words out.
"Do you have a history of heart disease?" the flight attendant asked.
The middle-aged man shook his head hard.
Unable to tell what was wrong with him, the flight attendant could only keep reassuring him. "Sir, hang in there. I've requested assistance. Just hold on a little longer."
Bai Chen also watched the situation up ahead anxiously. Falling ill suddenly on a plane was dangerous and could easily prove fatal.
He was worried for the middle-aged man, too.
Suddenly, the young man beside him stood up, hurried forward, and stopped beside the middle-aged man's seat.
"I'm a doctor," he said urgently. "Sir, let me check your condition. You may have a pneumothorax." As he spoke, he quickly lifted the man's shirt.
The flight attendants watched anxiously.
A doctor? Thank goodness.
"Yes! It's a pneumothorax. Does anyone have anything sharp? A pen, perhaps?" the young man asked loudly.
"I do!" A young woman hurriedly unclipped a pen from her documents and quickly passed it forward.
Once he had the pen, the young man immediately told the middle-aged man, "Sir, bear with me. This will hurt a little."
The next second, he pulled off the cap and drove the pointed end of the pen hard into the man's chest over his lung.
"Aah!" The middle-aged man screamed, then suddenly managed to draw breath, taking great, gasping gulps of air.
The young man kept adjusting the pen with his hand. Turning to the flight crew, he asked, "How much longer until we land? Contact a local hospital right away. This is only temporary relief. It won't hold