Chapter 122: Officially a Doctor [1]
Was this the power of the royal family?
Apparently, Princess Victoria was deeply impressed by what happened that day and asked about my whereabouts. The director, quick-witted as he was, told her that I was already an official doctor. And that was how I ended up standing in the hospital’s central hall, flanked by the director, Robert Liston, and other important staff.
“The royal family has requested an official evaluation.”
The director smiled as he spoke, trying to sound dignified, though he was not exactly a man of great character. I got the feeling something had already been arranged. Those who did not like me, such as Dr. Thomas, Jémel, and the rest, stood nearby with clear looks of disapproval. But with the royal family involved, what could they say? I could only clench my teeth and stay quiet.
“Robert Liston?”
“Yes. Dr. Pyeong’s talent exceeds even mine. He has accumulated vast knowledge, and his clinical skills are exceptional. But above all, as you saw yesterday, he is a gifted teacher. He should be a professor, not just a doctor.”
“I see.”
Normally, this would have been impossible. A student being promoted directly to professor just because he was good? It defied common sense. But luckily for me, medical education in Europe was a mess during this period. Credentials were not nearly as formalized. And with the royal family backing me, however loosely, it was not surprising that I was being considered for such a position.
Well… even without all that, I probably would have managed.
Especially with Robert Liston and Blundell promoting me so enthusiastically. Liston, in particular, was earning so much money lately that hospitals could not ignore him. I kept receiving telegrams from recruiters, even from France and Paris, asking me to come and “cut off a few limbs.”
“Dr. Blundell?”
“Dr. Pyeong’s clinical skills are excellent, but even more remarkable is his way of thinking. Innovative ideas come from shifting perspectives. Take, for example, the method for determining death… That Stethoscope, right?”
“Yes.”
“It is better than anything I have seen. I believe it has potential beyond checking for death.”
“Absolutely. And besides, he is clearly top-tier talent.”
Blundell was not quite as influential as Liston anymore, but he was still a well-known figure in obstetrics and gynecology. If he spent more time learning from me, who knew how far he could go?
“Any other opinions?”
The director asked no one else for input and merely glanced around the room indifferently. No one dared to speak up. I was effectively appointed on the spot. No objections, because that was how much sway the royal family had.
Damn.
Of course, not everything was perfect. By the orders of Princess Victoria and the Prime Minister, I was to give regular anatomy lectures at the Royal Opera House in London. They were not actual dissections, more like lectures, but still…
“I hope to see many interesting things.”
Apparently, she was just curious. Strange by twenty-first-century standards, but perhaps normal in a time when the term “dissection art” existed and even exhibitions were held. Either way, the interview had been a mere formality.
“Now then, we unanimously grant Dr. Pyeong the right to practice as a physician. Please come forward.”
“Yes, Director.”
“I figured this would happen eventually,” he said with a laugh. “I just didn’t expect it so soon. Not that I’m complaining. Robert Liston has been struggling with the workload. You’re officially a professor now! Go on, start amputating!”
“Ah… yes. Though I might pursue a different specialty…”
“Haha! Do what you like, but don’t forget we still have many patients. Understood?”
“Yes, Director. I’ll do as you say.”
“No, no. You can just stick to dissections. And those… donations. Heh heh.”
“…Yes, Director.”
Some of what he said was worrying, but thankfully, his allegiance to the royal family kept him mostly in check. Soon after, I received my official gown. I had been using it as a nightgown, but now it bore my name. Just “Pyeong,” though, not even Kim Taepyeong in full. That felt… oddly incomplete.
If you’re going to write it, just write “Kim.” Why stop at Pyeong?
They did not know much about Joseon, or care, really. Not that I expected the British to take an interest in other cultures.
“Oh… Professor Pyeong.”
“Professor Pyeong!”
When I came out in the gown, another issue arose. I was only a newly appointed professor, so my rank was not very high. Still, hearing my friends, seniors, and even subordinates call me “professor” felt undeniably good.
“You’re really a professor now.”
“Well, it would be stranger if you weren’t.”
“Professor!”
I did not point out their sarcasm. I was too pleased to care.
“Dr. Pyeong, now that you’re a professor, let’s go to your lab to celebrate.”
“Ah…”
The lab. Now that I thought about it, I had never had a lab of my own, not even in my past life. I died before I could reach that point. Back then, I shared a cramped, windowless room with four other fellows. There was not even space to complain.
“Let’s go.”
I was genuinely thrilled. In a way, I had become more successful than I was in my first life. The director had even placed my lab between Robert Liston’s and Professor Blundell’s offices, probably to keep me close to people I already worked with.
Clack.
When I opened the door, it was not empty.
“Huh?”
“Ah, Professor. I haven’t moved the previous occupant’s belongings yet.”
“Professor?”
“Oops. Sorry. We’ll take care of it.”
“Who was here before?”
“He was a bit… eccentric. He specialized in surgeries no one else wanted to do.”
“Really?”
I looked around. Inheriting someone else’s lab felt strangely emotional. But that sentiment quickly gave way to curiosity.
“What’s this?”
I picked up something that looked like a bird’s beak. It seemed familiar, but I did not want to believe it.
“Oh, that? That’s an anal speculum.”
“Ah.”
A proctoscope… right. I had not expected that. But now that I thought about it, it made sense. This was the nineteenth century. Diagnostic tools were limited, so doctors relied on direct observation.
“Professor Lee mainly treated hemorrhoids and enlarged prostates. It might sound trivial, but those are important diseases that doctors often ignore. He was a great man.”
“Hemorrhoids and enlarged prostates, huh…”
Strictly speaking, those were unrelated fields, surgical and urological. But back then, classifications were still vague. Maybe he simply took on whatever others avoided. It was possible his work was far more valuable than people gave him credit for.
“Don’t throw anything away. There might be useful notes in there. I’ll take a look too.”
“Me as well. A lot of my patients have hemorrhoids. I used to refer them to him, but now… it has become a headache.”
Apparently, he had a good reputation. Even Robert Liston and Blundell praised him. Honestly, if you focused on those two conditions in this era, you had to have a strong personality. Whether or not it saved lives was another matter…
Knock knock.
As I wandered the room, unsure where to sit, someone knocked.
“Yes?”
“It’s the director.”
He entered, rubbing his hands together.
“How do you like it?”
The moment I saw his expression, I understood.
This guy… didn’t give me this lab just to be nice.
Hemorrhoids and BPH were extremely common. In fact, hemorrhoid surgery ranked second in frequency in twenty-first-century Korea. That was simply part of life when people walked on two legs. The hospital clearly did not want to lose a doctor who handled so many cases.
“You know I believe in your talent, right?”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Good. You haven’t chosen your specialty yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Then how about focusing on hemorrhoids and BPH? It seems like fate. The previous professor just left yesterday.”
“He left… yesterday?”
Now that he mentioned it, the room did not feel like it had been empty for long. There was no dust. The books and notes were still open. A glance revealed today’s date, and even a sketch of hemorrhoids.
Wait… You can die from this?
Actually, yes. If the bleeding did not stop, or if stool contaminated a wound, sepsis could develop. I looked away from the horrifying drawing and met the director’s eyes.
“I’m not saying you need to decide right now… Just review the materials. If you want someone to practice on, let me know. Quietly, of course. There are plenty of people in London willing to be test subjects, for a price.”
His tone was casual, even cheerful. And terrifying. The worst part? He was telling the truth. In nineteenth-century London, a little money could buy anything, including lives.
“Ah… yes. I’ll review the notes first.”
Not that I needed practice, just references. If nothing else, I could reconstruct the techniques myself. But there was value in studying someone else’s life’s work.
I became a professor… and if I don’t want to keep cutting off limbs, I’ll need to develop a new, profitable specialty.
For the record, in terms of sheer numbers and financial sustainability, it was no exaggeration to say that hemorrhoid surgery was the crown jewel of general surgery. Almost every surgeon eventually became an expert in it, even me.