I had to forget about the arsenic wallpaper for a moment.
What else could I do?
I've done everything I could—what more is there to do?
Just a while ago, I was in 19th-century mode and didn't think much of it.
But when I came to my senses, I realized I had conducted human experiments.
Well… it was on someone who deserved to die, but still.
"Wait a moment."
"Huh?"
I barely held back a sigh.
The blood Blundell poured into the iron basket…
It was like a Spirit Bomb of blood.
It contained everyone's wishes…
And by now, it had already coagulated.
Well… if there's any silver lining, it's that I can be sure that iron basket isn't too dirty.
How do I know?
Because Joseph Lister is standing right behind him.
If that guy catches you, you'll be forced to become clean.
I wondered if he always had OCD, but his obsession with hygiene is astonishing.
"What about the patient?"
"Huh? This is no time for that. He's already dying!"
"I understand… but please put that down for now."
"Why!"
"The blood has already coagulated. Do you think this will flow if injected into a blood vessel?"
"Haha, my friend. You know one thing but not the other."
In the past, whenever someone said I didn't know something, my heart would race.
What nonsense would they spout this time? How angry would I get? Those were the thoughts I had, but not anymore.
I've gotten used to it.
"If you put it into a blood vessel, it liquefies again."
"Oh."
But this was entirely new.
What on earth does that mean?
"Did you think I was doing this blindly? I've experimented a lot on dogs. Haha."
"Hmm."
"Well, they came back to life."
"All of them?"
"No. More than half died."
"Anyway, when I cut open the blood vessels of the dogs that survived, the blood was flowing just fine."
Isn't that obvious?
If they survived, it means the blood was flowing.
Conversely, those that couldn't, died.
And yet, half of them survived.
It seems that in the 19th century, not only are humans tough, but dogs are too.
Then again, he probably didn't experiment on owned dogs—they were likely all strays roaming London…
The dogs that managed to survive and grow up in such conditions couldn't be ordinary, could they?
"Didn't the dead dogs' blood coagulate?"
"Haha. Doesn't blood coagulate after death? That's also a curious thing. Why does it coagulate?"
And you're thinking about transfusing a Spirit Bomb without even knowing that…
Blood is such a tricky substance.
No wonder artificial blood was still under development even in the 21st century.
Thinking that this liquid mass of nutrients, which flows without coagulating, just easily appears out of nowhere is a mistake.
Anyway, I first examined the patient.
'Already…'
Unconscious.
Lips blue.
There's no saving him, no matter what.
Maybe in a 21st-century hospital…
No, even there, it'd be a 50-50 chance.
So what chance does he have here?
100% death.
"Use this. Here."
"Yes, thank you. Now, step aside! I'm off to save a life!"
With that conviction, I handed over the supplies.
We have to try something.
You never know, right?
He might live.
"Ah."
Anyway, since Blundell wasn't just a member of the IV team but the ace, he immediately scrubbed the patient's body with phenol, made a slight incision with a knife, and punctured the blood vessel with a needle.
He was performing a central venous catheterization on his own.
'Lord, thank you.'
Now that's a miracle—what else could be?
"Pour it in."
"Yes!"
Anyway, he managed to set up the line amazingly.
The only problem was that what was being poured wasn't water but blood.
The blood everyone donated…
And it wasn't even drawn with a needle.
Judging by the cloth wrapped around everyone's wrists, they must have just cut any vein and collected the blood as it flowed.
They exposed it to air mercilessly, that's what.
So even without mixing, it would coagulate…
No matter what, it would coagulate—but they mixed it, so…
'I'm not going to watch…'
Ugh.
A sigh escaped me without realizing.
If I kept watching, I'd go from sighing to cursing, so I turned my gaze elsewhere.
"Phew…"
And then I felt at ease.
Why?
Because the obstetrics and gynecology ward had undergone such a transformation that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it had been completely reborn.
First of all, the sheets had all been changed.
Joseph was particularly enthusiastic about the surgery ward and here.
To be more precise, he had been chased out of the wards managed by Semmelweis or other professors.
While being told not to cause trouble.
'The floor is shining, actually shining.'
The patients had been scrubbed clean.
Why use that expression? Because less than 10% of them washed voluntarily.
Prejudices against bathing were so strong during this time that even if you told them to wash, no one would.
That was the case until Joseph started paying attendants to forcibly wash them using chlorinated lime and soap.
'Well… not all of them.'
Since most of the patients here were women, Lister's threats didn't work, so not all of them were washed.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the surgery ward.
I'm not even sure if that's the right way.
Tap, tap.
When Lister taps the wall, all the patients who can move get up and wash.
What is this if not a concentration camp?
"Ah, damn."
While I was lost in thought for a moment, a sigh escaped Blundell's lips.
The outcome I had been anticipating for a while was now unfolding at his fingertips.
The patient had died.
It was unavoidable.
It happened countless times.
But…
"No!"
Look at the husband screaming.
Is this something we can just brush off as unavoidable?
"The baby, what about the baby?"
"The baby too… I'm sorry, but…"
"Ah, no… no!"
The maternal mortality rate in this era…
I can't say for sure since there's no proper statistics, but it must easily be thousands per 100,000 people.
Meaning over 1% of mothers and infants died.
Even though women are inherently longer-lived than men, the average lifespan of women was shorter, probably because of this.
Well… even in the 21st century, places like Afghanistan still had similar rates.
"Damn it."
I wasn't feeling great either, but Blundell must have been worse.
Being an OB/GYN in this era meant carrying as much despair as joy from witnessing new life.
Blundell was one of the more passionate ones among them.
"Damn it all!"
He coldly turned away from the corpse, which had cooled as expected, and from the family member mourning over it, and headed to his lab.
Listening from outside the door, I could hear curses starting to fly.
"Fuck…"
I don't know why he's cursing in Korean, but anyway, I felt like helping.
Not particularly because it was Blundell.
It's a situation where help is needed.
Well, there's more than one or two things to address…
'Cesarean section… if we can just manage anesthesia, it's possible. Of course… even that won't save everyone.'
I thought of the family member earlier.
No matter how desensitized people in this era are to death…
The death of a mother and child is inevitably different.
-It's unfair enough that they died, but you also cut open her belly? This… didn't you kill them?
Can we avoid that question?
Even in 21st-century Korea, a country boasting one of the world's lowest maternal mortality rates at under 10 per 100,000 people, OB/GYNs were still targets of criticism.
What about here?
Would saying it was an unavoidable death hold any persuasive power in front of a family member facing their significantly disfigured spouse?
'Worrying about this is a luxury.'
If I were my former self, I would have been buried in such worries for days.
But not anymore.
Because while I hesitate, people are dying for absurd reasons.
Just look at the OB/GYN ward.
Since the medical staff started washing their hands under my strict enforcement, the mortality rate has plummeted.
The mortality rate for those capable of natural childbirth has returned to normal levels.
So now, the areas I need to step up for are cesarean sections and blood transfusions.
'Blood transfusion… I have no idea how to handle that, so let's start with cesarean sections.'
But I didn't immediately open the door and go in.
People, especially those handling others' lives, have the right to grieve.
I've never been that despondent myself, but I can't forget the image of my mentor in my previous life leaning against the dark operating room wall, crying.
'There must be literature.'
Cesarean section…
I don't know much about OB/GYN.
But I've heard things.
Didn't Caesar, according to legend, come out by cutting open his mother's belly?
But since Caesar's mother lived a long life after that, it's likely just a myth.
Caesar…
He wore a laurel wreath to hide his baldness, they say.
His whole life was filled with myths…
Creak.
Putting aside irrelevant thoughts, I headed to the library.
This is one of the perks of being a professor.
In this era, books are so expensive that not just anyone can touch them.
But professors can touch anything.
Hehe.
"Good…"
As I browsed the aged books, I found records about cesarean sections.
There was a record from as far back as the 1500s, the 16th century, where the mother survived.
How did they do it? Pure luck.
No…
They opened the belly vertically, not horizontally.
And the baby inside the uterus even had a scar on its head from the knife.
They just cut recklessly.
And it's understandable…
'Cutting open the belly without anesthesia.'
How urgently must they have opened it?
Plus, their understanding of the human body was even worse than now.
So, according to literature, cesarean sections were almost taboo.
They only did it as a last resort, and the mother's life wasn't the goal.
It was a surgery to save at least the baby.
The problem was that even the baby surviving wasn't common.
Not just during the surgery, but post-surgery was also an issue.
Is it easy to survive without a mother?
'Hmm.'
Looking out the window, I saw gloomy London.
It would be even harder to survive without a mother now.
And not just for that reason—shouldn't we save the mother too?
Mother…
I miss my mom.
I want to eat braised pork with kimchi and tofu.
'We have to accept the risks of anesthesia.'
Aside from what I want to eat, I started forming a concept for cesarean sections.
I couldn't do it the 21st-century way.
First, I don't know how.
I only know the general method, but even if I did, it'd be impossible.
Anesthesia techniques are different, administering other drugs is different, and most importantly, post-operative care is on a completely different, terrible level.
The biggest difference would probably be anesthesia.
'This drug turned out to be safe for mothers and babies! Yeah, right.'
It needs to be a time attack.
We don't need to rush as if enduring pain, but it still has to be short.
Using those strange gases or ether for too long won't do any good.
So, we should cut horizontally.
I'm a bit unfamiliar with that too.
Considering scarring, vertical would be better, right?
But would OB/GYN cut horizontally for no reason?
I wouldn't have thought much about it before, but being in this era has changed me a lot.
There must have been countless sacrifices behind every minor surgical technique.