Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Severe Trauma Patient (1)
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Under the heavens, upon the earth.
Wherever the wind blew and sunlight touched was the domain of the Imperial Family, but even that couldn't mend Princess Mint's mood.
Princess Mint was deep in thought.
Coming to the Academy just made everyone scared of her because she was a princess. Aside from spending less time with certain people... She wished they'd just head back to the palace together.
Looked like my personal information had leaked somewhere.
Spam mail even in this world.
The Academy Healer Faculty might just be bringing every letter addressed to me. Either way, the spam was piling up. Too many to read them all.
I only bothered with letters from people I knew. Like the one from the Baroness of Lapis.
- There's a public health issue on which I'd like Professor Asterix's esteemed opinion. I'd be grateful if you could reply at your convenience. I'll make sure it's worth your time.
- Baroness of Lapis
This was one I had to reply to.
From the First Imperial Prince.
- Is Mint doing well? No reply.
- Stingy bastard, pretending he didn't get the letter. This is an official imperial document. Your response should fill at least two pages.
We hadn't even met face-to-face. How'd he know I wasn't planning to reply? Not a prince for nothing—his intuition was superhuman.
A few must-reads from acquaintances. But what was with all the rest? So many. Oh, maybe some eager young students' grad school applications got mixed in?
I dug through the pile for a good while, but no applications. Well, any student serious about grad school would've come straight to me first.
Sigh.
So what were all these, then?
Mostly letters from healers outside the Academy. Half of them rebuttals. Your opinion's wrong, can we run experiments?, didn't work for us, this part makes sense, that sort of thing.
Too many to read one by one.
I'll have Estina Ivyheart handle it later.
Anyway.
Academia was in chaos, but work didn't stop. Had to see patients, watch the wards. If I didn't, Estina would have to.
Even among those who came, only some sought me out. Most had straightforward illnesses—they got healing magic and went home.
'Not many inpatients. Lucky.'
I muttered under my breath.
The moment the words left my mouth—not that many—knock knock knock. A knock echoed from the lab door.
Knock knock knock.
Urgent knocks meant one thing.
Estina Ivyheart stuck her head into the lab in a panic. I sighed inwardly.
"Professor. New inpatient."
"No way my mutter set a flag?"
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. What kind?"
Estina flipped open her notebook.
"Several. First one's got a bruise on the left upper abdomen, came in dizzy and blind. Another heard a snap from his ankle—"
A chill ran down my spine.
"Hold on. Left upper abdomen bruise and can't see? How long since?"
"Doesn't know time since accident. Just arrived at the hospital, so Professor—"
I bolted for the ward.
"Professor! Patient's just sleepy. Got tons of healing magic on arrival, pain herbs for the ache, seems fine now—"
"No. If he sleeps, he's done for!"
Sure, patients got sleepy. Tired, even. But one with massive bleeding couldn't just nod off.
"You didn't cover him with a blanket?"
"Blanket? They're in the ward."
Big trouble.
Blankets were the worst thing right now.
"Estina! Fill a bucket with water."
Bang! I raced to my ward.
Hm, Estina's trauma patient—eyes still open. Good.
Young male patient this time too. But not Academy student age.
Judging by his clothes, no commoner.
Pale complexion, droopy eyelids and gaze—he looked sleepy. Top suspect: consciousness dropping from blood loss.
Source: trauma. No idea which organ, but spleen was likely.
I yanked the blanket off him, tossed it on the floor, and shook him awake.
"Patient! Sleep now and you die!"
"Huh?"
"Wake up right now!"
"Ugh... I'm tired..."
Whoa, don't close those eyes.
"Patient, your name!"
"Kylas Copperfield. Uh, was training at the Academy arena. Th-then, uh, ah."
Consciousness waxing and waning.
This patient was dying.
Truth was, who he was didn't matter. Blunt upper abdominal trauma with dropping consciousness—that was key.
Got his name, at least.
Estina hurried back. She set the water-filled bucket by me, and I dumped it straight on the patient.
"Wh-what—!"
"Feeling awake now?"
Patient and surroundings soaked. I grabbed my towel. Everyone stared like I was insane...
There was a damn good reason.
Back in World War I—or II, maybe. Anyway, wartime with lots of gunshot wounds.
Field medics noticed: soldiers left uncovered survived better than those tucked under blankets.
Why?
Lots of reasons, but the big one: warmth activates peripheral parasympathetic nerves, dilates vessels.
That shunts blood from brain and heart.
Combine with major bleed, brain doesn't get enough flow—feels sleepy. Sleep, and you die.
This guy's suspect internal bleed. Bruise location screams spleen.
"Th-the ankle tendon guy's sleepier? Him first?"
"Ankle tendon snap won't kill."
Achilles. Crutches at worst, he'd hobble.
Internal bleed with dropping consciousness? Fatal within hours.
The bruised patient clutched his soggy gown, shivering in confusion.
Sorry, but no shivers, no survival. I pressed fingers to his neck for pulse. 18 in 10 seconds.
Within normal... ish. Maybe tachycardic.
"Feeling more alert?"
"C-cold."
"Stay with me."
Realized I needed a blood pressure cuff.
Had to check vitals, but no cuff. Injury meant low BP, probably.
BP without cuff?
Think.
BP: arterial pressure. Systolic/diastolic usually.
Wait, why BP? To check if perfusion adequate.
Ah, indirect way. Tried radial—no pulse.
Radial palpable above systolic 80-ish. Varied by person.
Another: venous. Jugular venous pressure. Pressed his neck with index finger. JVP pulse at 3 cm above clavicle. CVP around 2 mmHg.
Low BP.
Pale, low LOC, absent radial, low CVP: shock from hemorrhage.
One thing to do.
"Patient! You have to choose."
"Choose what?"
Wished Kylas was clear-headed. But so drowsy, any choice felt half-asleep.
Life-or-death, though.
"Short version: internal bleeding suspected. No intervention, no waking tomorrow."
"Huh?"
"Healing magic done. Refuse surgery? We'll sustain with magic and meds til you sleep."
"N-no, not that bad—"
Weird. Ruptured spleen should hurt like hell. Maybe pain faded post-rupture, or masked by magic/drugs.
Didn't matter.
"I say surgery. But no survival guarantee, no success certainty. And definite side effects."
"No surgery means death?"
I hesitated. Doctors say patients have right to decide medical care...
Well, even a knife to throat wouldn't bias options more.
No surgery: die.
Surgery?
Don't wanna die, right? He nodded helplessly. Fine... start surgery ASAP.
Save him, sins forgiven.