Chapter 147: Let’s Reduce Amputation [5]
You know what’s funny?
There was a record, one left behind hundreds of years ago. A French military doctor once saw a soldier’s wounds covered in maggots. Thinking the man was beyond saving, he left him alone. But strangely enough, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Even today, it might have been more dangerous to intervene, especially in the sixteenth century.
Anyway, the patient survived because the maggots only ate the rotten flesh.
It was not that the military doctor was negligent. He even reported it. But the report was ignored and dismissed as nonsense. No one believed it could possibly be true.
Still… it got me thinking. What if rotten flesh is what actually kills people? Wouldn’t it make sense to remove it? Maggots, flies, they’re always associated with death. It’s no surprise people were repulsed.
I understood why they dismissed it. But even so, should someone not have questioned it at least once?
Come on, you used to think the Earth was flat, and now it’s round. Isn’t it time to reconsider a few more things?
I could not understand their stubbornness.
“Pyeong…”
I was lost in thought, sitting at my desk and poring over some records, when Joseph approached. His eyes were fixed on something beside me.
“Huh?”
I already knew what he was looking at, but I tried to play it cool. It was useless, of course. His eyes were still locked on the same spot.
“Why did you keep… that?”
To be precise, he was staring at a tray full of maggots. Alfred and Colin, who had come to assist with the Amputations, joined him shortly, all staring with equal parts horror and disgust.
“Pyeong, are you insane?”
Liston burst through the door and demanded, looking half confused and half concerned. Blundell just closed his eyes, like he was praying.
Is it because of Lord of the Flies or something?
Beelzebub came to mind, but that was a twentieth-century novel. This was not that. Still, the atmosphere was tense. Whatever. My bullshitting skills had reached god-tier by now. Honestly, I might be better at spinning tales than practicing medicine.
“Just listen, alright? Don’t freak out. So, my homeland, Joseon, was a place plagued by frequent wars.”
“Didn’t you say it was a mysterious country before?” Liston asked.
“Exactly. That’s why people keep coming, trying to uncover its mysteries.”
He did not look convinced, but I could see the gears turning. If I sounded vaguely knowledgeable, they usually let me slide.
“Anyway, it was sandwiched between Japan and Qing China. Naturally, we had to become good at treating wounds.”
Did that really happen? Who knew. Even in modern history, trauma care remained underdeveloped for a long time. My orthopedic friend once said that until the early-to-mid twentieth century, an open fracture was basically a death sentence.
“And in Joseon, we made a fermented paste called doenjang.”
That word came out before I even realized it.
“What’s that?” Liston asked.
“It’s a kind of fermented soybean paste,” Joseph jumped in. “Smells strange, but tastes good. Makes me hungry just thinking about it.”
“It’s… food?”
“Yes,” Joseph confirmed.
Well, yeah. He ate it well before. British food was so bad that they would try anything.
“Anyway, maggots sometimes appeared in the paste because it’s so nutritious. Over time, a method of using maggots to heal wounds was passed down.”
“That’s… unusual,” Blundell muttered.
“Maggots become flies… Paris helps?”
“No, no. Maggots help,” I clarified. “Big difference.”
He did not get it, but it did not matter. I had to keep going.
“In Joseon, we look at healing a bit differently. You know how wounds tend to start smelling before they heal?”
“Yes, although that’s debated nowadays,” Liston said. “Some of that odd ointment they use… doesn’t seem right either.”
He was referring to the stuff made from copper oxide and lead oxide. I saw it earlier. I could not say if it was worse to let a wound rot or to smear that mess on it.
“In Joseon, we first clean the wound thoroughly with water. Then we wrap it in clean cloth soaked in traditional liquor.”
“That’s Greek,” Blundell muttered. “An old method…”
Was it? I did not know. But then again, why had medicine gone backward?
I pushed my irritation aside and kept talking.
“But we don’t stop there. If the wound still won’t heal, we add maggots.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to remove the rotten flesh with a knife?”
“Yes, ideally. But what if the area is too delicate or extensive? You can cut it, yes. But if not, use maggots. They only eat necrotic tissue.”
“Shouldn’t we get rid of them altogether?”
“Professor, don’t you ever wonder if they actually help?”
Blundell hesitated. “I… suppose.”
Liston was surprisingly open-minded. Maybe because he had cut off too many limbs lately. He was starting to doubt the old methods, and now that some of my other ideas had proven effective, he was more receptive.
“Let’s think about it another way. Maybe instead of cutting off entire limbs, we just remove the rotten flesh. That’s the actual threat. Knife if needed, maggots if not.”
Liston turned to Blundell. “What do you think?”
Blundell was no less forward-thinking. The Papacy banned transfusions, and he still experimented with blood. Brilliant or mad, it was hard to say.
“Trying something new is always good. But… maggots, huh…”
He was clearly disgusted, staring at the tray.
Seriously, you let maggots crawl around the hospital, but now you get squeamish?
They knew it was dirty. They just did not believe hygiene affected prognosis. That belief would need to be shattered eventually, by the mysteries of Joseon.
“But it could also harm the patient.”
“True,” I said. “But there’s no proof yet that maggot therapy is wrong.”
They kept discussing it seriously.
“We can’t overturn centuries of treatment without proof.”
“You said the same about handwashing. Let’s try it on a few patients first.”
“I’m just worried.”
“I get it. Back then, it was just the doctors washing hands. This touches the patient directly.”
“Exactly.”
I appreciated their thoughtfulness. Behind me, the students were nodding like they were deeply moved. Me?
You idiots.
Was removing dead flesh really that revolutionary? I wanted to slap them all. But Liston had a knife. Even without it, one punch from those bear paws and I would be toast.
“Let’s start small. But I’m interested in Joseon’s medicine.”
“Otherwise, it’d be weird,” Blundell said. “I’ve never met a doctor who can change his mind as fast as Pyeong.”
“Then it’s settled.”
I was relieved. They followed my recommendation. But that was not the end of the problem.
“The other doctors won’t accept it.”
“Patients, too. They’ll expect their wounds to rot.”
That annoyed me, but I held back. These two were on my side.
“To challenge that kind of ‘common sense’… we’ll need power.”
“I’ll lend you mine,” Liston said. “My knife.”
“Oh. Liston’s knife… That might actually work. I saw the effect during the handwashing incident.”
“Also, I’ve got some influence in the treatment room. One guy there got beat up once. He starts shaking whenever he sees a knife.”
“That friend from before?”
“No, different one.”
“Right. Stop beating people up, though…”
It was a weird thing to say, but whatever. With Liston’s knife, I was unstoppable. Maybe because I had done so many Amputations lately, my “cooldown” for switching blades had shortened. This one was the newest version, with a sharper curve and better balance.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Mr. Park.”
“Well, you were wrong.”
Thanks to all that, I cut away the necrotic tissue and placed maggots on the cleaned wounds. Of course, the patients did not take it quietly.
“What the—!”
“No! Don’t!”
“Are you cutting me?!”
But no one could defy Liston’s blade. I did not want to force this on them, but I had no choice.
This era was too barbaric for words.