Dark-Haired British Doctor Chapter 17

Episode 17 Obstetrics and Gynecology Practice [2]

gentle?

no…….

Even if you're joking, you have to make something believable.

In the holy hospital, maggots… … .

'The dissection lab… … how far is it from here?'

It's not far away.

Yeah, if you keep twitching your nose here too… … .

Isn't that faint, rotten smell coming at me?

“fu*k.”

I found myself cursing and putting my hands behind my back.

And yet, even though I believed it wasn't true, something… something wet caught my hand.

What the fu*k.

“This… is real.”

“Really, then. Why would I lie?”

Looking at the maggots that had come out of my hand, my senior just said this.

Joseph was just watching.

professor!

Aren't you not allowed to do that?

“That’s what I mean. That’s because there was a patient there.”

But Dr. Robert Liston seemed the most, by far, the most comfortable of them all.

No, should I say I take it for granted?

'If something like this exists where the patient was… …then it won't be good.'

Is it because he knows that no one will give a shit no matter what he says?

He laughed even though he said something that seemed like it should be true.

Are you laughing?

Did you laugh?

What can I do?

You just have to nod your head.

“Oh, yes.”

I got up from my seat and took off my outerwear to check behind me.

There was yellow water on it.

ah.

It's pus… … .

The clothes were relatively better.

The bed, the bed I was lying on, was absolutely crazy.

'Ugh… … .'

It's crazy.

I think I'm going crazy.

Really.

‘This… … These are all maggots… … ?’

It was still squirming as if it had been left unattended for quite some time after laying the eggs.

So what happened to the patient who was here?

I think he's dead.

“The corpse that came to the dissection lab a while ago was here.”

He's dead.

I dissected it.

“This was the person I got hurt while dissecting.”

It's been a week since I got injured.

So you left it like this for a week?

I looked around with a feeling of protesting something.

But I couldn't look at Dr. Liston, so I looked at the other two.

Of course, it was of no use.

Joseph, you're a freshman like me, and you're a senior by one year.

“Anyway… … um.”

After I suddenly fell out of bed, I thanked the professor.

I don't know what I'm thankful for, but I just have to say thank you to the professors?

Even if you ask them to do something, they like it when you say 'thank you' and hang up the phone.

It's not that different from the 19th century, Robert Liston liked it too.

“Okay, take care. Go home early today.”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

I said thank you to the end, and instead of going home, I headed to the obstetrics and gynecology ward.

“?”

“?”

Looking at me like that, both Joseph and Alfred had question marks.

From their perspective, it was a natural thing to do.

'Lord… … They do not know what they are doing… … .'

I opened my mouth as if I were Jesus.

“Sick room… … Let me check the condition.”

"situation?"

“Our hospital is the best in London.”

Don't be ridiculous.

That can't be true.

That shouldn't be the case.

“The mindset that we are the best… … will this help us improve?”

Anyway, I was a confident person when it came to opening my mouth.

I might be embarrassed to do something in front of someone like Liston, but I can do anything in front of these two.

"hmm."

“Now that I hear it… … I guess that’s true?”

Look at it now.

It works.

“Let’s look at it from our own perspective. What kind of thinking goes into creating and operating a hospital ward? Wouldn’t it be helpful to understand that? Especially for seniors… Your father might be able to establish a hospital later.”

“Oh, there you go again.”

Is it true?

You're really rich, senior.

Be friendly with me.

“Let’s go, then.”

“As expected, you are a junior with great insight.”

“Our ratings have been on the rise since Upton.”

I took my two rich young masters, or rather my close friends, to the obstetrics and gynecology ward.

As we saw earlier, the ward consisted of four rooms in total.

Each ward had 30 beds.

and.

Even though it was the second time, the shock didn't go away.

Wow, a 30-person room.

Aren't things like human rights not taken into consideration?

“Shall we start from here?”

I searched my memory and headed towards the hospital room where the mother I saw earlier was.

I don't know if it was because I was surprised earlier or because I didn't suspect anything.

As soon as I entered, there was an unpleasant smell.

It didn't block my nose.

I'm sorry for being rude.

The two who were following me did the same.

'You must think that enduring something like this is some kind of medal or something.'

I guess our thoughts would be different.

I'm sure they'll fix it somehow, even if it takes time.

“No… … But why is the window up there?”

The hospital room was really spacious, and the ceiling was really high, making it look grand.

I thought that making even such a wide and high place look dirty should be considered a kind of talent.

Anyway, it was only then that I realized that the window was out of reach.

“I don’t know.”

Joseph couldn't answer.

“I know.”

Alfred was different.

“In the past, there was a window there, and sometimes mothers would jump out through it.”

“Yes? Why… why?”

“You’re from Upton. You come from a wealthy family, so I don’t know, but… … The poor here are really poor. There are cases of people committing suicide.”

“Suicide?”

"huh."

Does this mean the mother committed suicide?

If something that terrible happened, we should create some kind of welfare policy.

Can you solve this by raising the window?

'It's the 19th century after all… '

It was a time when everything you imagined was more than what you could see.

Should we really call this the era of crazy people?

'This is… on hold for now.'

When my senior builds a hospital, he should have told me not to do this.

But there's nothing I can do right now.

So I decided to just shut up.

Instead, I looked at the bed.

It was dirty enough that you could tell without looking closely.

“This… this isn’t going to change?”

“Huh? No, I’ll go.”

“When?”

“When a patient is admitted… … bring your own. If not, you will receive what you were used to.”

"ah."

and.

That was the system.

So it was just left there earlier.

This is… … This needs to be fixed… … .

"however……."

"why?"

What do you say to someone who asks you such a bright question?

'What should I not say?'

I wondered if talking would be of any use.

Actually, from my perspective, it would have been better to just keep my mouth shut and get a license or something.

But what about the patients who are dying in the meantime?

If I had just ignored it because I didn't know anything… … I guess it couldn't be helped.

Don't I know?

'I can see everything… … the future.'

Their future is visible.

I wonder how many people are dying?

In my opinion, it would be more than 50%.

Still, I had a gut feeling that it would be lower than that.

If you die like that, will people come?

'I guess people in the 19th century were a lot stronger than I thought.'

No matter how strong you are, there is a limit.

The patient I saw before, probably with appendicitis, also died.

These kids don't know anything, so they might be okay.

I wasn't.

“If it’s this dirty, won’t it cause inflammation?”

“Is inflammation caused by dirt?”

Isn't it?

Is it really necessary to do that?

Looking at the innocent faces of Alfred and Joseph, I felt like I was going to die first.

'No… … Let's think about human lives.'

If it was just a simple matter of being a little sick, I would have backed off.

There was nothing I could do because it was clear that someone was going to die.

"that……."

What do you say?

What did you say?

ah.

okay.

I didn't do anything to make the professor look like that, did I?

A good idea flashed through my mind like lightning.

“Didn’t the corpse always smell bad?”

“It smells bad.”

“Smell here too.”

I showed off my clothes first.

“Ugh.”

They both held their noses.

These are my clothes.

fu*k.

“Haven’t I smelled this somewhere before?”

"huh?"

“It’s the smell of the pus I squeezed from your hand.”

“Uh… … Uh uh. I guess so?”

“Could it be that similar particles are the cause?”

How long will I have to use the word particle instead of bacteria or virus?

I felt sorry for myself, but luckily it worked.

“Ah. Then… … this is.”

“This particle could be anywhere.”

“Then we all have to die.”

“You have skin.”

I also wanted to talk about the immune system.

At that moment, the square and the cross ending came to mind.

Not just any cross, but a burning cross.

They say burning at the stake is such a painful punishment.

I don't think I need to step forward and try it myself.

“The skin is blocking it, but if it breaks… … particles can enter.”

“Hmm. I see. But what about the mother? Don’t mothers get skin tears or anything?”

Then where does the positive water come from?

If I hit you on the back of the head while saying this, I think your wish will be fulfilled.

That wish was later fulfilled.

You're my senior.

A senior who is rich enough to even build a hospital.

“My water broke. It had to have torn somewhere for it to come out.”

“Ah. Wow… … You really… … Aren’t you a genius?”

really.

It takes forever to even call someone a genius.

Of course he's a genius.

It even holds future knowledge.

Can we just call this genius?

“No, that’s too much praise.”

Of course, I was able to be humble because I was in the realm of genius, even though my outside and inside were different.

“This could be on it. So I think… … I should clean the cloth… … but I think it would be a good idea to wipe your hands too.”

“Hmm. I think there’s a bit of a leap in logic… … .”

flight?

This… … .

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. If the particles are related to washing your hands… … we don’t have to wash them, so it’s okay. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the patients’ prognosis.”

No, no. That's not it.

Wash your hands.

It changes when you wipe it.

“Is that so?”

“That’s right. It’s because you’re still a freshman… … We’re scientists before we’re medical students. Isn’t that called inductive reasoning?”

I wanted to slap you from the start.

For a moment, I nodded.

‘Then… … I guess I really need to approach it with statistics.’

Deep inside, I was thinking about something else.

As far as I know… …it’s not like they only give birth here?

There are quite a few other hospitals too.

There is no way all systems are the same… … .

'There must be at least one person who doesn't like getting something on their hands.'

How about finding a place that looks good among them and teaching it?

Statistics is the basis of the inductive reasoning you value so much.

I'll give you some statistics.

huh?

“Then shall we go? I’d like to see some other hospitals on the way. Is that possible?”

"why?"

“Just… … a tour?”

“You really have a passion for learning. I think I can stop by. My father gives money here and there anyway.”

"oh."

“Then shall we go?”

"yes."

Let's go!

Please, there has to be just one other place!