Chapter 144: Let’s Reduce Amputation [2]
“Then go.”
“Yes.”
The director had a notoriously impatient temper. But to run a hospital, especially in nineteenth-century London, you needed strong execution. There were kids downstairs talking about Liston and Blundell. You could not survive in this place if you were ordinary. That was what I meant.
Rattle.
The director suddenly threw open the door to one of the treatment rooms. Technically, it was a general examination room, though nothing here was particularly well differentiated. Right next to me, a patient lay on a bed, swarming with maggots. Three doctors stood around, not teaching, not learning, just watching.
Personal privacy? Forget it. Unless you were someone of status, it did not exist.
“This is it. I usually see people getting treated here.”
“Aha…”
Injured people, huh?
Then why does it smell so bad?
Just an injury, right? The patient who just left had what looked like a bandage, or was it a rag, wrapped around a tiny cut on his thumb.
Wouldn’t he have been better off staying home?
Regardless of what I thought, the director informed the doctors that I would be observing and offering suggestions for improvement.
“Hmm.”
“Mmm.”
That look of irritation was classic. Professionals who thought they knew everything hated being corrected, especially by outsiders. I understood. I would be annoyed too if some stranger walked in and told me how to do my job.
But still, I was right. Even without knowing exactly what kind of treatment they had been doing, I was right. Because if these people actually knew what they were doing, there would not be so many amputees in London.
“I’ll be counting on you. This is Doctor Pyeong.”
“Mmm.”
I gave them a polite greeting. And look at this. No handshake.
Fine then. Time to pull out the big guns.
“You know Brother Liston, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.”
Summon: Liston. Whether they were shaking inside or not, these guys knew exactly how dangerous he was. After all, they were the ones sending him all their patients, intentionally or not. I heard he once wielded a two-handed saw when he was in a rush. Thank God I had not seen that in person.
“Let’s get along well.”
“Okay… Is Professor Liston coming too?”
“When I call him.”
“P-please don’t.”
“We’ll see.”
The way they reacted told me this was more than just “observation.”
Did I say too much?
Now that I thought about it, was my face crooked? Was the fracture healing wrong? Could fractures even heal properly here?
Another thing to fix later…
But first, I had to focus on the urgent stuff.
“Next!”
One of the doctors called out. I could not tell if they were about to see someone in critical condition or just an ordinary patient. Then someone walked in.
“Ah…”
“How did this happen?”
This guy was definitely worse off than the last. He must have been injured at work. His forearm was torn open, but luckily, it did not seem too deep.
“If that’s all… we should at least clean the blood.”
Oh? Wipe it?
God, I’m actually touched… How rare.
You got a wound, and you cleaned it. Obvious, right? But these people did not do the obvious.
Wait, what?
They should have used water. But instead…
“Uuuuuugh!”
“You’ve got to feel pain to get better.”
“Ugh! Ugh!”
The doctor brushed off the patient’s screams and began wiping the wound with a filthy rag soaked in someone else’s blood and pus.
No, no, no. At this point, he was not cleaning it. He was actively making it worse. The bleeding actually increased.
“Good. I can see the wound now. Hmm… Looks like no stitches are needed.”
…You were calling this good?
Honestly, I did not even want to use the word “fortunately” anymore. They were not skipping the stitches because the wound did not need them. They were skipping them because they were planning to close an unclean, untreated wound without disinfection or antibiotics. That was murder.
Rotten bread…
I thought about my moldy bread experiment. Penicillin. It was unstable, unreliable, and hard to dose properly. The risk of side effects was too high to use regularly. It would have to be a last resort.
“Bandage!”
The doctor motioned, and an assistant grabbed something yellowish that looked like torn curtain fabric, then wrapped it around the wound.
Oh God…
The situation was spiraling out of control.
I’ll need to follow up on this patient later.
I memorized his name. I planned to observe a few more cases, then sneak out to check on him. Otherwise, I was certain he would be dead by tomorrow. No, not dead.
He’s going to get amputated.
Were these guys getting kickbacks from Liston? Was there some kind of Amputation cartel?
Just as I was thinking that, another patient came in. He already had a bandage, so he had clearly been here before. The bandage had turned yellow.
“How is it?”
“It hurts. Weirdly… it hurts more than before.”
Well, that was not surprising. Based on what I had just seen, I would not expect improvement. But the doctor did not seem concerned.
The bandage came off.
Shit.
Even calling it a “wound” felt generous. It was not small to begin with, and now? It looked like someone had poured poison into it. The air filled with the smell of festering staph infection.
“Smells like death.”
“Needs debridement, right?”
“Absolutely.”
It reminded me of an old conversation I had with other residents during my fellowship. I could not afford to stay calm. Was he seriously considering Amputation already? Probably. Given the state of medical care here…
“Hmm. It’s aged well.”
Yeah, wait. What?
“This is how you know it’s healing.”
“Ah… is that so?”
Even the other doctor chimed in with more nonsense about “aging.” They looked at the rotting wound with pride.
“You don’t know,” one doctor told me, grinning. “Wounds always smell like that. Pain’s just part of the process. Something new always makes people anxious.”
“What… what’s your basis for that?”
“Basis? This is knowledge passed down for centuries. That’s the basis.”
“Ah…”
Jesus. I had to physically hold back a curse. I glanced out the window, needing to ground myself.
But even the sky was hazy. London smog? Maybe.
This… is still Earth, right?
I looked up. The sun barely hurt my eyes, even when I stared straight at it.
Right. Fuck. Of course. This is Earth. How could stuff like this have been handed down unchanged for hundreds of years?
“It’s really healing well. Let’s keep going.”
“Ah, yes! Thank you!”
“Of course.”
There was no time to keep swearing. The patient left after rewrapping his wound with that same rag.
You’re supposed to use a fresh bandage…
Not here. Here, bandages were recycled. Every one of them.
“Alright, everyone, pay attention. The next patient is important.”
“Ah… Is it Lord Jude?”
“Yes.”
“He’s connected?”
“He is.”
I tried to step in, but I was blocked. The doctors suddenly looked busy. Even the attendants came in.
“Quiet, please. This is noble treatment. You can pay for it separately. This is different.”
“Ah… Understood.”
Nobles. Even in the modern world, we still had them, royalty and aristocrats. In this era, though, nobles were truly above the law. One misstep, and your career, or life, could be over.
“It’s been a while.”
A nobleman entered with attendants in tow. He handed off his coat and hat, rolled up his trousers, and climbed onto the table.
“The bandage came off midway, so I rewrapped it at home.”
“You could’ve asked for a house call.”
“I was in the area. Anything I need to worry about?”
“No, no.”
The bandage actually looked clean. And when it came off, I was surprised. It had prevented a lot of pus buildup. The wound looked better than the last patient’s.
Except…
Wait. What’s that green stuff? Pseudomonas…?
It could be Pseudomonas. But that bright a color? I was not sure.
I’m not an infectious disease specialist…
Still, the noble’s odds did not look great. Then, the doctor opened the ointment he had brought.
What the hell is that?
It was bright green, with some sort of granules.
“Oh? First time seeing that?”
It was the smiling doctor again, Doctor Number Three.
“It’s made with copper oxide and lead.”
“…Excuse me?”
I thought I misheard. Copper oxide and lead?
“Yes. You grind up copper oxide and lead, mix it with oil, and it’s good for wounds.”
What planet was I on?
Why were you people like this…?