"Sigh…"
A sigh escaped my lips.
Coming to the hospital after working to earn money just makes me sigh.
It's not that I dislike working.
If that were the case, I wouldn't have been a doctor in my past life either…
It's just that watching the people around me work makes me sigh uncontrollably.
"Um… aren't you going to wash your hands?"
"Hands? Isn't that only necessary in the obstetrics ward?"
"No…"
"Besides, I didn't do any dissections today, so it doesn't matter."
Common sense, you idiot.
How could it not matter?
Among the patients you see, huh?
There are more than a few who've died in the same manner as those killed by Blundell… no, I mean, the patients Blundell treated before he started washing his hands…
"Still, couldn't you just wash your hands?"
"No, I don't want to. It smells bad… and it hurts my hands. It's detrimental to treatment."
Blundell's ward, the obstetrics ward, has long since made handwashing a routine.
Well, "long" is relative—it's only been a few months…
But there's been a dramatic change in the mortality rate there.
People who would have died helplessly from puerperal fever—a disease that barely exists in the 21st century—are now surviving. It's only natural.
So, do the others not know about this?
That's not it either.
Despite that, handwashing hasn't spread widely.
If you don't know something, you should be humble—that's the way of the world. But these guys, they don't know anything, so they're arrogant instead…
"Hey, Pyeong."
At that moment, Dr. Liston called me.
He didn't force the handwashing issue on those who refused.
I knew why.
"Yes."
"I'm well aware of your thoughts on handwashing. But…"
"There are rumors about me, right?"
"Yes. There are rumors that you're crazy."
"What… how does telling people to wash their hands before seeing patients make me crazy?"
"Most people would hate it even if you told them to wash with just water, but you're telling them to scrub with chloride of lime or whatever. That's why."
Liston clicked his tongue and pointed to the chloride of lime I had barely managed to stock in the emergency room.
Admittedly, it did look a bit harsh.
Well, not just a bit…
"There are more than a few people who believe the old wives' tale that washing your hands causes syphilis."
"Shouldn't doctors know better? Who doesn't know what a sexually transmitted disease is?"
"That's why the concept is… a bit strange, don't you think? If you're injecting some kind of toxin, why would it specifically cause… huh?"
"Well…"
Sigh.
When were bacteria discovered again?
No, who discovered them?
I want to grab them by the collar and pay them to just do this one thing.
"Anyway, you have to wash your hands. The difference in mortality rates between wards that wash hands and those that don't is clear."
"Too many people believe it's all a coincidence."
"A coincidence?…"
"It's not, but what can you do if they believe it?"
"Sigh."
"Anyway, don't push too hard on those who refuse. I'm here, so they won't say anything for now. But no matter what, you are…"
"Yes, I'll keep that in mind."
Right, I'm a minority.
No, even calling it a minority is an overstatement.
At least in this hospital, I'm the only Asian.
Not just Korean, but Asian.
Even if you expand the scope to all of London, there probably aren't many.
There might be some, but… by their standards, they'd probably consider Indians as Asians.
'Sigh…'
If I make a fuss and it leads to a physical confrontation, what would happen?
It could really end badly.
'Later… when I have my own hospital… then I'll make a fuss.'
So, I decided to push it back and just sighed.
"Well… you're hurt, aren't you?"
Meanwhile, the guy who had been arguing with me was approaching a patient without washing his hands.
I twitched, wanting to stop him, but Liston held me back.
Hoo…
Right, I have to endure.
I was about to sigh again when the guy pulled out a cautery iron.
"The bleeding here will stop if you do this."
"That… that too?"
Why do these guys keep trying to torture patients when they're supposed to be treating them?
I mean, common sense—why would you cauterize a bleeding wound?
Did they do that to that old man last time too?
"Hmm."
Liston had also seen what happened to the old man who was bitten by a dog.
Thankfully, he didn't die.
But the outcome wasn't great either.
He seemed to have gotten over rabies somehow.
Dried wolf's bane was surprisingly effective, huh?
-Ugh… my arm… my arm hurts so much…
But the wound on his arm never healed.
It was already a mess from the dirty dog bite, and then they cauterized it, making it even worse.
The skin, the first line of defense—and the most powerful one—was gone, leaving the patient helplessly exposed to infection.
"I cut it off. If I hadn't, he would have died."
"Yes, that's right. It wasn't rabies that did it—it was the cauterization."
"Haha. You say that with such confidence, but… I'm still skeptical. Symptoms could appear in the head or the arm, couldn't they?"
If it weren't for Liston, I would have slapped that smiling face.
Be glad I'm a coward.
"Anyway… our Emily didn't get cauterized, and she recovered just fine, didn't she?"
"She was lucky."
"Yes, lucky… wait, what?"
"She was lucky. Think about it. She survived by eating dried brains—that's luck, isn't it?"
Wow…
You're really going there?
Be glad I'm a coward, you…
"Ugh, aaah!"
While we were having this conversation, that quack finally cauterized the patient's arm with the iron.
It wasn't even a dog bite—just a scrape or something, and he's doing this?
It's obvious that the wound he made is worse…
Does he have no self-awareness at all?
Yet, the reality that I couldn't intervene was miserable.
No matter what, as Liston said, I was a minority, and I lacked evidence.
Especially in this era, where statistical thinking hadn't fully taken root.
"Hey, over here!"
At that moment, the door burst open, and a patient in terrible condition was carried in by someone.
Simultaneously, the guy with the cautery iron perked up.
No way.
This can't happen.
If that guy sees this, he'll just cauterize it without a second thought!
"You're not going to stop me this time, are you?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Go ahead. You might have to amputate a limb or something."
"No…"
Don't say such gruesome things so casually.
"What happened to cause this?"
Anyway, I rushed forward, still holding the thread I'd been fiddling with in the emergency room.
"What are you doing!"
"Ah, sorry."
"You idiot! You're burning people and saying sorry?"
"Haha, sorry, my bad."
"You're laughing?"
The guy with the cautery iron hesitated, then accidentally burned another patient's back, falling behind.
When you're holding something dangerous… for medical staff, it's usually a scalpel, and you're supposed to hold it pointing downward. He didn't seem to know that.
Or…
Maybe he didn't even realize that a red-hot cautery iron was dangerous.
"Huh?"
"I said, how did this happen!"
At my words, both the patient and the person who seemed to be their guardian or friend looked at me in confusion.
Times like this make me think that modern medicine, and all academic fields, have advanced through the ripple effects of progress.
Doctors in this era couldn't even perform a proper patient interview, and patients didn't understand even the basics of medicine.
"Ah, ah! So, you see!"
At least they could communicate.
Some people couldn't even do that.
"A bicycle! I was riding a bicycle!"
"Ah."
A bicycle…
Along with motorcycles, one of the two things emergency room doctors hate the most.
Recently, electric scooters have been rising rapidly, threatening to form a trio of terrors, but bicycles still reign supreme.
'No wonder… his teeth…'
Why?
When people get seriously injured from bicycles, it's usually because the wheel, a curb, or a pothole causes them to fall forward, right?
This…
When you fall forward, your face hits the ground first.
Normally, you'd use your hands to break the fall or do something to protect your face and head…
But when you're on a bicycle, you're holding the handlebars.
If they were wearing a helmet, it might be different, but in this era, the only things people wear on their heads are helmets, wigs, or fancy hats, so you can't expect much.
"Over here, quickly!"
Anyway, I dragged the patient to a bed.
The sheets were a mess—so dirty it was almost a shame to call them sheets—but now I was a proper 19th-century doctor.
I laid the patient down without a second thought and examined them.
Examining here doesn't just mean looking at the patient.
'Pupil reflex is… still there. It's dilated, but… that's probably just from shock, right?'
I secretly shone a light into their eyes.
It wasn't hard.
I just used the lamp next to me to shine light into their eyes before examining the wound.
These people don't even know what a pupil reflex is, so I could do it right in front of them, and they wouldn't notice.
"Ah."
Anyway, when I properly examined the injured area, it was a real mess.
"Patient!"
"They haven't been speaking since earlier!"
The guardian said, almost crying.
They probably thought the patient was dead.
They were almost dead.
When they fell, they must have had their mouth open because half their tongue was torn.
That alone is a serious injury, but the problem was that the blood from the tongue had flowed down their throat during transport, ignoring all principles of patient movement.
Their airway was blocked.
"Scalpel!"
"Scalpel?"
"Yes, a scalpel!"
If intubation were possible, I'd do it…
But we don't even have the tools for that yet.
I could probably make something out of iron, but…
'If I stick that in, the patient would really want to die…'
Not to mention the gag reflex—we'd have to sedate them, and the only sedative we have right now is opium.
And usually, if you sedate someone with opium for that long, they'll sleep forever.
*Sssk.*
I almost snatched Liston's scalpel and made a vertical incision in the patient's neck.
If I had time, I would have made a horizontal cut, but I couldn't afford to.
If paramedics had brought them in, I'd know how long it had been, but the person next to them was just a civilian.
It was best to assume the worst and act quickly.
"Whoa. They might die at this rate."
"Just be quiet!"
"Alright. But you keep doing this, which is why people say you're crazy… hey, don't glare at me. You're holding a scalpel and cutting someone like that."
It might already be too late.
That thought made me anxious.
I was so focused on the patient that even Liston faded from my view.
"That lunatic… how dare he speak to Liston like that."
"He really is a lunatic, isn't he?"
I heard some strange comments in the background, but I let them go in one ear and out the other.