Chapter 145: Let’s Reduce Amputation [3]
This had to be stopped. It was not just because the patient in front of me was a noble. If it were anyone else, I might have waited and monitored things quietly, both now and later. Even if they refused treatment, I could drag them to Liston and force it. But this, this could not be reversed.
Copper oxide.
What would happen if you applied that? I was not even sure. There probably were not any case reports yet. But even just applying some modern knowledge, it was easy to guess. The risk of tetanus or something equally nasty was incredibly high. Judging by the color of the wound, it might already be too late.
“Excuse me.”
I gathered my courage and stepped forward. He looked like someone of considerable rank, but…
I know Lord Damien. I know Liston. I know the director. I haven’t met her, but I even know Princess Victoria…
Courage did not come on its own. I forced myself to recall all my influential connections.
“Huh?”
He looked slightly irritated. Maybe it was because seeing an Asian in this environment was still unusual. One thing working in my favor, though, was that there was no visible hostility. No racism, no jealousy. And importantly, I was dressed according to this island nation’s tedious standards of formality.
“My name is Dr. Pyeong. I’m a student of Dr. Liston and currently a professor at Tribal University.”
“Ah… so you’re the Asian doctor I’ve heard about. Still, this isn’t the time for idle chatter. I’m rather busy. Why did you come all this way?”
He gestured vaguely with his staff at the chaotic ward. Admittedly, this was no place for nobility. The smell alone proved that.
“That smell… The director said these things kill people. Please, treat it later.”
He waved me off dismissively. I knew the moment he turned his eyes from me that he considered the conversation over.
But my gaze was fixed on the green ointment, which was dangerous no matter how you looked at it. Worse, the doctor applying it was using a tool that had not even been cleaned after treating another patient.
Let’s pretend this is saving lives…
If something went wrong, this would not stop at Amputation. He could die, whether from heavy metal poisoning or infection.
“Wait, please. I’m not doing this to disrespect you—”
“What’s with this fellow?” he snapped. “You’re acting proud just because Liston favors you? Do you even know who this gentleman is?”
“This is about a man’s life!” I shouted back.
Oh, screw it. Let’s see what happens. If it turned into an international incident, I would blame it on cultural misunderstanding. I kept speaking, even though I felt their eyes on me like I was a lunatic. But I did not stop. If I planned to back off, I would not have stepped forward in the first place.
“That ointment is made with copper and lead. Did you know that?”
“Roughly.”
“Then you should know it’s dangerous. My homeland is Joseon, far from here, but our medicine has advanced in ways yours hasn’t.”
“More than England?”
I nearly punched that smug aristocratic face. Even in the twenty-first century, they could not hold a candle to Korea. And now? Now they were just hopeless.
“I won’t claim we surpass you in everything. But when it comes to wound treatment, I’m confident.”
“Is that so?”
“How else could I become a professor at my age?”
Sure, it was because of Liston and Anesthesia, but I was not about to admit that. Doctors One, Two, and Three pouted behind me like they wanted to object, but none dared speak. Once a nobleman engaged in conversation, only another noble or a madman would interrupt.
“Interesting. Go on.”
“We had a similar ointment in Joseon, long ago. It was green…”
Green, the color of life. That was how we saw it. After all, did people not say green surroundings were good for health?
“But strangely enough, whenever we used it, patients’ arms and legs began to rot away.”
Tetanus. A disease long forgotten in modern Korea, but historically one of the leading killers of the wounded. And these people were recreating it artificially, hundreds of years before it could be treated.
“Have you seen this firsthand?”
“Yes. One of our maids had to have her leg amputated because of it. If you continue as you are… you might end up the same.”
Even as I spoke, I examined the man’s wound. The previous ointment obscured it somewhat, but I could already see necrotic tissue. It had to be cut out.
Would removing it be considered heresy?
Very likely. These lunatics called themselves scientists and still clung to tradition. Real science adapted to new knowledge. When something better came along, the old ways were tossed out, but not here. Not yet.
“Can you give me twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes… hmm.”
He hesitated.
But if he refused now and insisted on using the ointment anyway, fine. I warned him. If things went badly, he would end up being dragged to Liston, and that leg would be lost forever.
“I’ve heard good things about you from various people.”
“That’s generous of you, but I still have much to learn.”
“No need to be modest. All right, let’s try it.”
“Thank you. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
Pain? Well, first, I would rinse the area with clean water. Then I would scrub the necrotic tissue with gauze. Once I identified the depth and extent of the wound, I would cut away anything that was already dead.
What did Alfred do back then?
It had been over half a year, but I could still hear Alfred’s screams. And he was not particularly weak. If he were, he would have cried when I inserted a catheter earlier. He did cry, but from frustration and indignation, not pain.
If that guy screamed like that…
I tried to reassure him, but truth be told, there was a real biological gap between nineteenth- and twenty-first-century humans. When it came to pain tolerance, they were built differently. What I was about to do to this nobleman, by their standards, was torture.
But I came prepared.
“What’s that?”
“An Anesthetic device. If you drink this, you’ll sleep through the procedure.”
“Really? Then it won’t hurt?”
“That’s right.”
“Then don’t wait. Do it now.”
“Yes, sir.”
While I retrieved the Anesthetic from my bag, his attendants rearranged a nearby space, part hospital room and part storage closet. It was filthy, even by my now-dulled standards. Maggots crawled past. Even so, the nobleman lay down after his men laid their coats over the bed.
“If you’ll rest here a moment, I’ll fetch my tools. And an assistant.”
There was no way I would use the contaminated instruments lying around.
“Can’t we just do it here?”
“No. It’s not safe.”
“All right.”
Maybe he saw something in my eyes, either resolve or madness. Whatever it was, he agreed. I dashed out and retrieved my sterilized tools and Joseph, who was wandering around as usual.
“You’ve got clean cloth in my room. Boil it thoroughly and bring it here.”
“Oh, come on. Why not just tear down the curtains? Or use the sheets?”
The curtains were filthy. Dried blood. Maggots. They would kill the patient faster than infection.
“Just bring what I asked for.”
“I’m busy too, you know.”
“You’re skipping dissection class.”
“Ugh. Fine, fine. You win.”
Grumbling, he ran off with the urgency of someone racing for treasure. When I returned, I found the nobleman waiting.
Doctors One, Two, and Three…
I heard their muttered curses behind me.
“Let’s see what happens when he screws up.”
“Maybe he’ll hang himself. Then we can dissect him.”
Whatever. Let them grumble. If I let them see what I was about to do, cleanliness, antiseptic prep, cutting out necrotic tissue, they would accuse me of witchcraft. Scientists? Don’t make me laugh. In this age, even science bowed to tradition.
“Hmm.”
He was asleep.
“Perfect. Let’s begin. Before he wakes up.”
I used the minimum dose of Anesthetic gas. Accuracy was always tricky. I poured in clean water. It had been boiled and allowed to cool, but it was still lukewarm. Maybe a little hot. But this was the best I could do.
All right. Anesthesia complete.
I’m an optimist. Time to clean the wound.
I wanted to use gauze, but of course, there was none. So I touched the infected tissue with a gloved finger. It was extensive.
Squelch.
I sliced through the rotting flesh. One of the attendants watching nearby gasped. He saw that the tissue was not bleeding, which meant it was completely dead. Then, for some reason, he looked up at the sky as if he were praying.
I did not ask why. There was no time.
This was just a minor procedure to me, but to them, it was a miracle.