But the Patient Lived

When helping people to die is required medical ethics——what can an unethical doctor who cures them do ?
The receptionist ushered the patient into Dr. Walter Needzak's office. She punched her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose, patted the bun of hair at the back of her head, and said:
This is Mr. Stallings, doctor.
Dr. Needzak motioned the patient to a chair. Stallings sat down, slowly but limberly. He still held his hat, and placed it in the precise center of his lap. The receptionist handed a form to Dr. Needzak and returned to the waiting room, after looking once over her shoulder.
You're only 125, Mr. Stallings? Dr. Needzak asked. The patient nodded sadly. Well, you should be hale and hearty for another 50 years, judging by the report on your preliminary exam. Are you sure that it's any use for you to consult me?
I wouldn't bother you, Stallings said, age showing only in the high pitch of his voice, except for the funny feeling in my chest the other day. I had to visit an office on the twelfth story. The elevator wasn't running, so I walked up. Just as an experiment, I went as fast as I could. The way my chest felt got me so interested and excited that I forgot what I wanted at the office, once I was there. So I thought that that was a hopeful enough sign for me to come around and see you.
Dr. Needzak, a young man at 50 and who looked even younger, hoisted the stethoscope amplifier onto his desk, turned it on, and signalled for Stallings to unbutton his shirt. He placed the stethoscope against the bony chest. The bumping of the heart filled the room, drew a wild pattern on the unfolding strip of paper in the visual section of the amplifier, and created magnetic patterns on the tape.
Dr. Needzak listened for two minutes, then thumbed through a reference listing of visual heart patterns. Finally he switched off the amplifier, and said:
You have no history of heart trouble.
I'm afraid not.
Well, I don't want to raise false hopes. The only thing that I can suggest is more physical exertion. Really vigorous exertion, the kind that makes you pant and tremble and get a bit dizzy. Try that every day for a month and come back to see me. There's just a trace of a flutter now, and we might be able to speed up its development.