Chapter 136: Finally, Surgery [2]
It might sound like boasting now, but Lord Damien was an extremely high-ranking person. During one of my anatomy demonstrations, I remembered seeing him seated on the second floor of the opera house, right behind the Prime Minister. So yes… that explained a lot.
“Are you saying all these people were sent by Lord Damien?”
“I see… There are quite a few of them.”
“These are all patients, right?”
“I think so… Maybe?”
“Amaraño. You saw him earlier.”
I pointed toward the Anatomy Lab. Thanks to my insistence, I had made sure the operating room and Anatomy Lab were far apart, so I was only pointing toward one part of the hospital, not the actual lab. But in this moment, it did not really matter where I was pointing. Liston, thankfully, understood. It was not that he lacked intelligence, only specific knowledge. We both briefly recalled the horror of the last “surgery” I had performed in the Anatomy Lab.
“Eugh.”
Even Liston, who was not usually squeamish, looked revolted for a second.
“You can’t do that to someone who isn’t even a patient.”
There was another reason for concern.
If they’re not a patient… then their prostate must be small. Which means…
Of course, a large prostate was not good either. Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia was not cancer, but it caused trouble by pressing on surrounding tissue. And the larger it was, the more symptoms it caused. Medicine was based on statistics, sure, but every body was different.
Which means, if I’m not careful, my device might dig outside the prostate and into other abdominal organs…
And if that happened, the patient would die. I would be killing him with my own hands.
The real problem? There’s only one way to check.
In the twenty-first century, I could use a prostate ultrasound. Here? I had to do a Digital Rectal Exam, inserting a gloved finger and pressing through the rectum.
I haven’t fully mastered it yet…
I looked down at my fingers, frowning. While I was lost in thought, I felt a bunch of eyes on me. My students were watching.
And… they’re probably about to riot.
Honestly, if one of them picked up an axe and came at me, I would not be surprised.
I remembered Joseph’s confused face.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
Even Colin, who had treated me with disdain ever since I became a professor, was stunned.
If you did not know, I supposed that would be the natural reaction. Actually, even knowing, I would not be thrilled. Back in my trainee days, this was still standard. Ultrasound was not always accessible, and the Digital Rectal Exam was the basic screening tool. But here? With no ultrasound at all, it was essential.
So I told them to line up, pants down, butts against the wall. And then they gave me those faces.
“Doctor…”
“He says we have to do it for sure…”
“Even if you’re a doctor… wait, that knife… don’t, don’t raise your fist—”
Their resistance did not mean much. Once Liston stepped in, nobody could say no. Even hardened criminals would not resist him. What could a mere medical student do?
“Yeah, you bastards. I peeled peppers, so you can handle me checking your butts.”
And Alfred? Alfred once skinned a pepper and fitted a urinal. He was the gold standard of executioners.
“Let’s go.”
“Ugh… ugh.”
“Ahh…”
Thanks to that, I got to feel their prostates. No symptoms, of course. They were all young. But I could get a rough idea of what a normal small prostate felt like. Ideally, I would have liked to try on someone older, like Liston…
“Why are you looking at me?”
Yikes. I turned away quickly and looked toward Professor Blundell instead. He glared too, but that did not matter anymore. I used to be intimidated by just a face like his, but after everything I had been through, even Blundell did not faze me.
“Fine. You try it, then.”
“Ah… you bastards.”
With Liston’s help, I examined Blundell’s too.
Yeah, that’s the feel.
No symptoms either. I had already confirmed that. His was larger than the students’, but that made sense. Not because of age alone. It was just different.
So… let’s say twice the size of Blundell’s is the cutoff.
A starting benchmark. Once I got good results, I could standardize it later.
Let’s play it safe… really safe.
If I got overconfident and something went wrong, that patient would suffer, sure, but my mental state would collapse too.
And beyond that…
Everyone’s fixated on balls these days…
Thanks to Harry the Butcher and his grotesque surgeries, rumors had spread through high society about testicle removals. Sir Jamie had done damage control, but curiosity about the procedure was still sky-high. Thankfully, Liston had already arrested several shady veterinarians before things got worse.
Still, I did get some satisfaction out of all this.
“Hello, Dr. Pyeong! I heard today’s surgery will be something special.”
“Ah, hello. I’m Dr. Pyeong. Today, I’ll be demonstrating a new surgical procedure developed alongside Dr. Liston.”
“Really looking forward to it!”
The room was packed. He had even invited newspaper reporters. If this had been before, nobody would have shown up. But now? Things had changed. I was a professor. And I was the one who had hosted that famous anatomy show.
“Is that him? The one who helped discover Anesthetic Gas with Dr. Liston?”
“I think so. Dr. Pyeong. They say he even cured syphilis.”
“Syphilis? Come on. I’d believe malaria before syphilis.”
“Well, the police send patients to him now, apparently.”
“Really? Hmm…”
“…Is that why you keep checking your hairline?”
“Hey! No!”
I glanced back. A couple of reporters, clearly trying to hide their receding hairlines, quickly replaced their hats. Syphilis-related hair loss. Classic.
But those fools were not entirely wrong. I had done a lot. Willow bark tea, condoms, phantom limb treatment. Honestly, nineteenth-century London owed me.
“Let’s bring in the patients. But… are you all planning to stay here the whole time?”
I did not have the authority to shoo reporters away, so I said something else.
The problem was, this was a lecture hall, not a treatment room. Not that it mattered. This was nineteenth-century medicine, after all. Still, this exam? I needed to reach into the patient’s rectum.
“Of course. Journalists must always confirm the facts.”
I tried again.
“This might be a bit graphic—”
“Haha! We’ve been to war zones. This is nothing.”
Right. War correspondents. For them, a rectal exam must be a tea party.
“Alright, then… Everyone, pull your pants down.”
“Huh?”
“What?!”
Look, I had said it before. The working class in the nineteenth century was treated abysmally. Some were literally whipped. Not slaves, just workers. It was no surprise they were used to inhumane treatment.
“Pull down your pants.”
“No…”
“What is this…?”
They were shocked, but not for long. They had worked hard, and Lord Damien was footing the bill. They grumbled but obeyed.
“Ugh… This guy’s crazy.”
Of course, having a finger inserted there was not exactly popular. Even medical students resisted. Understandable, even when I said it was for science.
“Relax. Stay still.”
“Ugh…”
Expected resistance meant I came prepared. I had Robert Liston with me. When that man moved, people groaned, but no one cursed. Thanks to him, I continued smoothly.
“No…”
“What are you even doing…?”
“What is this?!”
That was the reaction from my students. But the reporters? They were fascinated. The one who reacted the most was, of course, Lord Damien.
Just wait a little longer…
I completed exams on about ten people, enduring the criticism. From that group, I selected four whose prostates were more than twice Blundell’s size.
“You four, come with me. Your symptoms are severe, right?”
“Ah… yes. It’s killing me.”
“And you. You came with no symptoms. Even if you’re paid, this is a frightening procedure.”
I also found two patients with prostates smaller than Blundell’s.
“No way… How would I know that?”
“You think I did this for fun?”
Everyone was shocked for different reasons. But all eyes eventually landed on Lord Damien. As expected, he looked very pleased.
Footnotes
Translator’s Notes
Digital Rectal Exam — A physical examination in which a doctor inserts a gloved finger into the rectum to assess nearby organs such as the prostate. Before modern imaging, it was a basic method for evaluating prostate enlargement.
Prostate Ultrasound — Imaging test used to evaluate the prostate. The narration contrasts modern diagnostic tools with the limited options available in the nineteenth century.
War Correspondents — Journalists who report from battlefields or conflict zones. The reporters’ lack of fear is compared to their experience seeing graphic scenes.