Chapter 130: Improvement [1]
Even after handing the tools over to the Blacksmith, I kept sketching designs and brainstorming in case anything needed adjustment. Looking back, I had been in a rush when I first delivered the plans, but now that I had started, I realized I could not just leave it at that. So I went back home, technically my senior’s house, but I could not fall asleep right away.
So… do it like this. Hmm. Even then… it might be hard to fully remove it…
There was a device called a debrider. It was powered by electricity and spun like a drill, shaving off tissue. Honestly, I had not used it much myself. It was more commonly used in ENT or similar fields, not general surgery. But even with such a tool, I figured it would be difficult to remove even half of the prostate. That meant recurrence would happen quickly. And that was not the only problem.
First of all, wouldn’t there be a lot of bleeding?
If you just hacked away at it, of course it would bleed. If something like this did not bleed, then what would? Sure, the pain could be handled with Anesthesia since the procedure lasted twenty to thirty minutes, but bleeding seemed like the bigger issue.
Is it even a site where bleeding stops easily?
I was not sure. When I had nasal surgery, they just packed the wound and let it clot. But that was the nose. You could still breathe through your mouth. You could not exactly tell a patient, “Please pee through your anus for the next few days.”
The wound will be exposed, which means there’s a risk of infection every time they urinate.
Urine was technically sterile. If someone insisted, “No, I did a test and there were bacteria,” they probably had not collected the midstream urine properly, or maybe they were already infected. So yes, under normal circumstances, it was sterile. But if you let it sit on a wound, it could become a breeding ground. Even a wound that started out clean could get infected if it was constantly exposed to fluid.
Which brought me back to the one conclusion I kept circling around.
“Do we really need to use a urinary catheter…?”
A catheter. Basically, inserting a tube through the urethra into the bladder so urine could drain out. Anyone who had ever had one knew: it was not pleasant. It was torture, really.
But can it be made of rubber…?
I knew I could not use steel, but I did not have many alternatives. The closest thing I had was my gloves. The problem was that they were not clean, smooth rubber. They were uneven and lumpy, clearly unrefined. I briefly worried about how that might affect condoms too, but oddly enough, users had told me the texture was sometimes better that way. I did not understand the logic, so I pushed the thought aside.
It needs to be flexible but firm. Soft enough not to tear up the urethra, but stiff enough to stay in place… That’s what I need.
Wow. Who knew catheters had so much nuance? Back in my old life, I just inserted them without a second thought. You only realized the true value of something after it was gone.
I’ll need to pressure the chemist.
What frustrated me most was that my worrying was not helpful. I was a layman in chemistry. If I knew nothing, that would have been one thing. But I knew the final result. That was the truly maddening part.
If he can’t figure it out… I’ll have to use a steel tube for now.
“Hey! Wake up!”
I had meant to ask the chemist to make one just in case, but it was already morning. I must have dozed off without realizing it, understandable, given how exhausted I had been yesterday. I ran around all day because a doctor known as “the Butcher” was lopping off testicles left and right, and then ended up visiting the Blacksmith too…
“Oh, junior. What’s all this? Wow… Did you draw all this last night?”
“Huh? Yeah. I was brainstorming.”
“You’re really something… No wonder you’re already a professor.”
Joseph, who had come to wake me up, clicked his tongue as he looked over the drawings on the desk. It was a mess, at least twenty sketches that I had scribbled, ripped up, and redrawn last night. Maybe that was why I dreamt about catheter insertion. Other people dreamed about the military. Mine was worse.
“What about the senior?”
“He already went downstairs.”
“Amazing… His dad must be terrifying. Even if he doesn’t inherit the hospital, he’ll probably still end up pouring money into it.”
“Yeah, true.”
Wealth in nineteenth-century England had its own kind of romance. To protect their honor and estates, the upper class often lived disciplined lives, waking up early, going hunting, riding horses. Alfred, though, was focusing on medicine instead of sports.
My golden-spoon friend still hasn’t realized the truth, that owning land earns you more than hard work ever will.
Not that it was a bad thing. I admired him for it. So I went downstairs. Alfred was already there, having finished the newspaper and tea.
“Here, eat.”
“Ah, thanks. By the way, can we stop by the factory before school?”
“The factory? Why?”
In response, I showed him the final sketch I had drawn.
“…Seriously?”
His face wrinkled up. Understandable. It was a nasty drawing, especially first thing in the morning. Still, he would have to assist in the procedure sooner or later, so it was better to be prepared.
He might actually be suited for surgery. He’s got a narrow focus and strong concentration, perfect for a surgeon.
A surgeon’s limited field of vision could be a flaw, especially when dealing with large or complex regions. But with a procedure like this, it could actually become a strength. Still, the dissection lab had been pure chaos. Everything seemed to pour out the moment you made an incision.
“So, we may need this too.”
“This is just a concept, right?”
“…Yeah, for now.”
Anyway, I explained the details. Some parts I explained well. Alfred had been studying hard lately and was beginning to think like a proper medical student.
“Alright, let’s go. But the chemist might not be at the factory.”
“Huh? Why?”
“He’s rich now. I heard he barely works anymore.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Well, he’s hired other chemists to replace him. He still holds the title, but he spends most of his time at social gatherings.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
Back then, success in England was not just about money. You also had to be active in social circles. I was not at that level yet, so I did not judge. But still, he was basically acting like a Fire Tribe NPC from a game.
“Still, they must have someone who can work with rubber, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Wait, did you eat already?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re so skinny. Why don’t you eat more?”
“That’s…”
This was all Britain’s fault. I had thought the whole “British food is terrible” meme was a joke. It was not. Unless it was grilled meat, I could barely eat any of it.
“I guess I have an appetite today.”
Someday, I was going to introduce K-chicken to this country. For now, even that counted as contributing to public health.
“Oh! You showed up!”
“I heard you weren’t coming in?”
“Haha… Sometimes I have to show my face.”
Surprisingly, the chemist was there. I followed him into a side conference room with some young, eager chemists. The place smelled like melted rubber, but I did not care. I was determined to save humanity from suffering.
“So basically, it has to stay in once inserted. If it slips out, you’ll have to put it back in.”
“Ugh.”
“That won’t do.”
They all listened seriously. One man in particular seemed especially invested. It did not look like a theoretical problem to him.
“So, at the end of this, I’d like a little device like this. Can it be done?”
“Hmm… might be tough.”
“I mean, it needs an extra layer of rubber made of a different material…”
Unfortunately, the balloon component, the part that would keep the catheter from falling out once inside, had to be scrapped. I had already expected that. It was not even clear if we could get the urine to flow properly, so how would we manage a functioning balloon?
“Then… can you make a rubber that’s not too soft, but stiff enough to maintain the shape of a tube?”
“Hmm…”
They brought out piles of rubber from the factory floor. Apparently, they were very serious about condoms and had tons of variants.
“We’re experimenting with thinner, smoother materials that don’t tear. This one’s from a failed batch, but I think it could work. You can see it on the tag here.”
“Wow…”
The chemist was clearly dedicated. As I admired the stockpile, one of the men leaned over and whispered to me.
“By the way…”
“Hmm?”
“They say you’re going around… cutting people’s balls off. Is this really necessary?”
…Goddammit. The rumors spread this far already?