Surgical practice?
I've had plenty.
Frankly, for someone as skilled as me, even a new technique doesn't require an excessive amount of time.
I wouldn't go so far as to call it a state of effortless mastery…
But wouldn't you say I'm on the verge of reaching that level?
It feels a bit dismissive to say "just" a local flap procedure—and one that includes a mandibulectomy at that—but anyway, there's no need to be nervous about just a surgery like this.
"Alright, making the incision. Administer the anesthesia properly."
"Yes, sir!"
But this surgery was definitely not easy.
First of all, the anesthesia itself was highly challenging.
We had to anesthetize her by spraying gas into her mouth and nose, but we're operating on her mouth, right?
That meant we had to administer it only through the nose, but when we tried that, the standard dosage seemed insufficient as she kept waking up.
How did I know?
"Why are you staring at me, Senior?"
"Huh? No, I just felt like it… especially today?"
We tried it on our skilled assistant, Alfred.
Maybe it was because Liston was the one inflicting the pain…
But no matter how much Liston pressed down on his sternum with his fist, it couldn't possibly hurt more than cutting through living flesh and bone.
So, we decided to take a bit of a risk.
We kept pumping gas into her nose.
"Now!"
"Yes!"
And we also administered some through her mouth during breaks.
"Hold your breath! You didn't inhale, did you?"
"N-No, I didn't…tt?"
"He did inhale, damn it."
"Move aside!"
Dangers were, of course, lurking everywhere.
First of all, the anesthetic gas we use is nitrous oxide, right?
It has the nickname 'laughing gas' because inhaling a little makes you feel good.
Feeling good is generally a good thing, but…
What happens if the mood of the person performing the surgery becomes too good?
'The patient would usually die, right?'
I, along with Liston, pushed George, who was swaying, out of the way.
He hadn't inhaled a large dose, so he should recover quickly.
I was holding my breath as best I could when the gas was blown into my mouth.
We had decided to step back if judged to have inhaled it…
But since it's a colorless, odorless gas, that judgment was hard to make.
"Good."
"What's good? Feeling good? You too, Pyeong?"
"No, I said 'good' because the surgery is going well."
"Ah, I thought…"
Consequently, we decided to use 'feeling good' as a signal.
Since one couldn't judge it themselves, someone next to them had to do it.
The surgery itself was difficult, and the anesthesia was like this too, it was really…
"Professor, would you handle this part?"
"Gladly."
"Hmm."
"No, I'll do it well."
"Yes."
Anyway, we barely managed to clear the oral mucosa and expose the bone.
The work up to this point required great precision, but cutting the bone was a different matter altogether.
If I had a wire saw, I might have managed something…
But when I mentioned it to the blacksmith, he looked at me like I was crazy.
Well, how could you make a wire-shaped metal object hard enough to cut thin bone?
In martial arts novels, spiders spit such threads from their… rear ends, but this was firmly reality.
Or a virtual Earth that only resembles reality in useless aspects.
"Huuuup!"
But it was okay.
Because we have a sword master.
Isn't he the guy who can cut bone instantly, and perfectly vertically, with a small, specially designed saw?
Scurtch.
Maybe it was because this patient's bone was somewhat necrotic, or because she was a woman and it was thinner…
"Huh?"
"You already cut it?"
"Yeah. Almost cut further."
It was cut faster than the word 'instant' could imply.
Liston's saw had stopped right below the jawbone.
Just a little further in was the artery.
It would have severed a branch of the carotid artery or the carotid itself.
'She would have died…'
Every surgery performed here was extremely dangerous.
Before, since we couldn't properly sterilize, wasn't there a risk of infection for every surgery?
Of course, even now we aren't completely free from that risk…
But it was dangerous, and today felt particularly more so.
The surgery itself is too risky.
"Breath!"
Gulp.
Firstly, holding my breath intermittently was tough.
Unless absolutely necessary, we really shouldn't perform facial surgeries…
"But she survived because it was me."
"That's correct. If it were me, she would have died."
Liston was right about that.
It was precisely because his strength was so great that he could control it and stop appropriately; if it were me, I would have just cut through recklessly.
Scurtch.
Anyway, we cut the jawbone on the other side too, and now it popped out in a chunk along with some necrotic tissue.
Since the surgery was being conducted in the lecture hall as usual, the hospital director and other doctors were quite astonished.
"Wow…"
"To perform such a brutal surgery…"
The one who just spoke was Cain, who performs ureterolithotomies (kidney stone surgeries).
To hear that kind of talk from the guy doing the most brutal surgery.
The problem was that it was still too early.
The more horrifying part came next.
"Ugh."
"I heard the explanation but…"
"To even conceive of such a thing…"
"It's like something out of Frankenstein."
"Ah, that novel you mean?"
"Yes. He stitches corpses together, doesn't he? This is stitching a living person together, so it's even more horrifying."
Even I thought it was horrifying.
I had made an incision in the chest and was pushing the remaining flesh into the jaw cavity.
But even so, comparing it to Frankenstein, which is a horror novel, even a gore novel?
This felt a bit unfair.
And 'stitching'?
There's a perfectly good word like 'reconstruction,' and you say 'stitching'?
"Hmm…"
"Ugh… I feel sick…"
"She has to live like that for a month?"
"How can she survive?"
I say it again and again: I'm saving the life of someone who would die without this surgery.
Of course, I still don't know for sure if she will actually survive.
There's a part where the flesh is somewhat exposed, so there's a risk of infection.
And she's already so weakened…
She might not even withstand the surgery itself.
Just saying this is making me depressed…
"Good."
"Good? Ah, it's not because of the gas, is it?"
"Not at all. You—"
"Me too. The surgery seems to have gone well."
"Yes. The surgery seems to have gone very well. Now that it's done, the shape looks quite plausible."
Now that it was all done, it seemed like we had indeed done the right thing.
Because we were able to pack in even more flesh than the defect inside…
Even if it doesn't look perfectly successful, it actually is.
This will reduce later.
Our bodies adapt surprisingly well to circumstances, and muscles do it best.
The part I packed in was precisely the muscle part attached to the chest.
The function on that side of the chest will decrease this much, but…
A person needs to eat to live.
We sacrificed mobility for a more crucial function.
"Just in case, let's make a breathing hole here."
"Hmm. Yes. That seems rational."
But because there was so much flesh packed in, it seemed breathing through the mouth would be difficult.
Right now, it's safe because we're here squeezing it and watching, but she might die at night alone, unable to breathe in her sleep.
So, we made a hole in her neck.
"Eww."
"That's…"
"Madness…"
Seeing that, the other guys made a fuss again.
I felt like going over and smacking all their heads.
These madmen…
Huh?
They don't even think about what they themselves do.
Anyway, we finished with that patient and immediately began the next surgery.
The surgery ended faster than expected, making it possible.
Otherwise, we would have had to do it tomorrow.
"Is your stamina holding up?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"But you're weak."
"I'm okay. What about you, hyung?"
"I'm strong."
"Yes. Then… let's go right away."
"Good."
Frankly speaking, and this is something to say in hindsight, I was probably also a bit intoxicated by the drugs.
It doesn't make sense to think one can handle two major surgeries back-to-back.
But in retrospect, it worked out well.
Whether it served as practice or not, the second one went better.
Well…
It's an era where a successful surgery and survival are two separate things…
But anyway, we finished both surgeries before evening even properly arrived and faced the patients, now tidied up.
We deliberately didn't show them a mirror.
We even placed them separately.
Since there was no suitable ward, we put them in the lab.
"It went well. Once the swelling goes down and it heals a bit more, you'll be able to [eat/talk]."
Shoook.
Both were silent.
That was natural, given the holes in their necks.
"Are you really taking these?" The busy one was the painter.
He had drawn the images of the two patients without color.
He'd been frowning the whole time he was drawing, and judging by the faintly transmitted smell of vomit, it seemed he had gone and thrown up.
If he had stopped by the dissection room before cleaning, he probably would have vomited everywhere.
"We have to."
Anyway, the drawings were vividly well done.
Both the pre-operative and post-operative states.
"You've worked hard." Liston looked at the drawings again, his face showing satisfaction, and handed over some money.
I couldn't tell if the amount was larger than I thought it would be, or if I had thought he wouldn't give any at all.
Anyway, he left happily.
"Here, Pyeong. If you're not tired, come with me." Liston said this after paying and climbed into the carriage.
Then he looked at me.
I was a bit dumbfounded.
'Aren't we going to raise hell…?'
For that, isn't Liston with his sword the best?
What need is there for me?
As I looked at him with that expression, Liston chuckled.
"You're more famous than I thought, you know?"
"Me? Well… I did discover the anesthetic and all."
"No, in the back alleys."
"Back alleys? Why?"
Did I do something to deserve that?
I've never fought.
Well, I've watched fights.
But since it was Liston doing one-sided beatings, wasn't it more of a slaughter than a fight?
Anyway, I was perplexed.
"They say you're a Qing gangster. Seems your face is perceived as quite intimidating."
"No… I…"
"And think about it. Force-feeding people filth, making holes in necks, amputating limbs, cutting off jaws… who else in London is as vicious as you, besides you?"
"I'm not the only one… and it's part of treatment…"
"How would people know that? The director said. He says you probably don't need to be with me anymore and can be on your own now. He said people are afraid of you."
"Ah."
Oh dear.
I've been completely misunderstood?
Separate from that, stopping the production of white phosphorus matches was important, so I had no choice but to get into the carriage with Liston.
As we went along, listening carefully, I could indeed learn that I had a certain kind of reputation.
'He's a Qing gangster…'
'No, not Qing. They say he's a shaman from a country called Joseon.'
'A shaman? Then instead of this, we should immediately…'
'Shhh. Don't even say that. You'll be cursed!'
'A curse?'
'You don't know… you're so out of touch with the news.'
It was news about me, but I was hearing it for the first time.
Curious, I pricked up my ears.
'Didn't thousands die in Paris this time?'
'I heard so.'
'They say that was a curse cast by that fellow. How else would it start just when he arrived and get better when he left?!'
'Oho.'
Crazy.