chapter 21

Chapter 21

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hace 3 días

The senior had quite a bit of money.

Indeed, being the son of a wealthy family, he had at least enough money to ensure the completion of the survey.

"...."

"You're making a significant contribution to medical advancement."

"What kind of contribution...... This is money I brought to get a new suit made......."

"Your current clothes are fine, though?"

"No..... The party season is coming up....... My father might not care, but I want to date......."

"Tsk. A future doctor talking about dating. That's ridiculous."

I couldn't just hand it over.

Look at those eyes.

You can see how much he regrets it.

This guy.

It's not like I haven't been telling him, but he's my lifesaver, after all.

"Here."

"Oh, great."

"Here."

"Yes, yes."

There's a reason I've been keeping quiet.

No matter how good the cause, if you keep talking about it, even if you're not asking for anything in return, its value diminishes.

How did I know that?

You learn these things after grinding under professors.

- I worked so hard to teach you, and you can't even do this?

Yes, I can't.

It's not that bad.

How many times have I really....?

"Here."

"Ah, yes, yes."

Anyway, as I kept quiet, the midwives brought in reports of their experiences over the past few months.

As the stack of papers grew, my heart felt at ease.

Why?

Because even at a glance, there was a clear difference.

And it wasn't a small one.

The statistics written by our professor, whether it was Bloodborne or Blundell or whatever, and the statistics these midwives provided differed by at least tenfold.

Do you wash your hands?

- Yes, I do.

That's how they answered.

At least when they visited homes, it seemed they washed their hands.

The fact that it was just out of habit was a bit disappointing.

But still, it was a relief.

At least they washed their hands.

That's why we could see such a stark difference.

"Good. Senior, Joseph. Come here."

Like all surveys, it didn't take long.

It was over in less than ten minutes.

Analysis?

That took even less time.

It was obvious.

I had expected this result, and it didn't differ from my expectations.

"Look here, senior. This is our・・・・・・ obstetrics and gynecology professor. What was his name again?"

"Professor Blundell. He's a scary guy."

"Ah, right. Professor Blundell."

Now that I think about it.

Foreign names never stick with me at first glance.

Blundell.

What kind of name is Blundell?

Compared to that, Joseph and Alfred are much more straightforward names.

Anyway, this isn't the time to critique names, so I nodded and handed over the documents.

"Look here. The mortality rate of mothers in our hospital."

"Hmm... One or two out of ten die."

"Exactly. That's quite a lot."

To say that one or two out of ten die with such a calm expression.

You crazy guys.

Could you say that in front of your own mothers?

Would you be okay with playing Russian roulette like that when giving birth?

'Well.... These two are from wealthy families, so they probably gave birth at home. Me too. Thank you, mom.'

Suddenly, I miss my mom.

"Don't you think that's too many?"

"Huh? Before medical advancements, more would have died, right?"

"Exactly. Haven't you heard that survival rates increased after the introduction of forceps?"

But I couldn't cry about missing my mom now, so I tried to stay as rational as possible.

Then came a ridiculous opinion.

Wait, is that true?

Could it really be that more died before?

'No・・・・・・ that doesn't make sense.......'

It's true that humans, with their large heads, have higher maternal mortality rates compared to other animals....

But if more than one or two out of ten died, who would even get pregnant?

Even from a man's perspective, that's insane.

A one in three chance of losing your wife?

If you have two children, the chance of your wife surviving isn't even half.

"Let's think in absolute terms. Absolutely."

But what can you say to guys who are so immersed in modern medicine—no, from their perspective, contemporary medicine?

Even I thought I was the best during my residency.

The more I learned, the more I realized how little I knew.

I often thought that what I didn't know was worth not knowing.

Well, I should try to understand from the perspective of a senior who's been through it all.

"In absolute terms...... it's not a small number."

"Exactly. Hmm."

"But look. The midwives who deliver at home are different."

I pointed to the documents, hoping to shock them.

The numbers, calculated using 21st-century math, were written there.

21% vs. 1.8%.

If you don't feel anything after seeing this, you're either a cold-blooded person or someone who deliberately kills people.

"Oh, what's this?"

"Haha. This is common sense, Pyeong."

But they laughed.

I wanted them to feel a sense of urgency, but they laughed?

If I had a hammer, I'd have smashed their heads a couple of times.

"The air is different."

"Right. London is always a bit・・・・・・ you know? Dark."

As I was fuming, they continued.

"Or maybe the water? The water might be bad."

"Ah, I've heard that too. Pyeong, what did you do last class? Why didn't you study?"

As you can see, it was all nonsense.

The air? The water?

Hmph.

"Don't you know about miasma?"

"Ugh......"

Then they started looking at me with disdain.

What made me slightly uneasy was that they brought up something I had no idea about.

Miasma?

What the hell is that....

"Doesn't she know? Is it because she's Korean?"

"Ah... Even among our people, those who don't study might not know."

"She didn't study."

"Exactly. A medical student......."

They kept looking at me with contempt.

Meanwhile, I was digging through my memories.

Did we learn about it in physiology class?

I don't know what miasma is, but it's not a clinical term.

If it were, I wouldn't have forgotten it.

After all, writing every day to avoid forgetting things......

"I thought you'd know. Think about it, in the dissection room... infections can be caused by such substances. The smell is terrible there, right?"

But as the conversation went on, I realized something was off.

The smell?

It's bad.

"The air in such places is called miasma."

"Hmm.

"That's the root of all diseases. Hospitals can't help it. Since sick people gather there.... the air is filled with miasma. We're making a kind of sacrifice. That's why so many seniors pass away at a young age."

Regardless of my thoughts, our senior was truly engrossed.

He seemed intoxicated by his own words.

Doctor's high.

Well, the high from saving lives is strong enough to make you drunk.

But do you think you deserve that?

'Now I remember. Miasma. It was one of the things written in the genealogy.'

To cut to the chase, it was a term that had lingered in my memory for a long time.

It was also a term that appeared in exams.

It usually came up when discussing medical errors.

Of course, it wasn't that important of a subject, and it only appeared in pass-or-fail courses.

'My brain is really good.'

I can't believe I remembered all that.

I guess I have the 19th century to thank for that.

"Our sacrifices will become the lives of other patients."

I wanted to tell them to stop talking nonsense and smack the back of their heads.

We're making sacrifices, but they're not becoming lives.

You're killing people, you guys.

The good thing is that the people I need to convince aren't these amateurs.

Blundell・・・・・・ just wait.

"Hey, where are you going?"

I didn't want to talk anymore, so I quickly left the ward and headed to Professor Blundell's lab.

It wasn't hard to find.

This hospital had crammed everything into one place for the sake of research and treatment efficiency.

From an infectious disease perspective, this is really stupid... but back then, they didn't have such concepts, so it couldn't be helped.

Knock knock.

Anyway, I stood in front of Professor Blundell's lab with two lumps behind me.

The door was incredibly old-fashioned.

It felt like a philosopher, not a doctor, should be sitting inside.

But given the times, even Robert Liston, the butcher—no, the doctor—was sitting behind such a door.

"Hey, what's going on...."

"What are you doing! How dare you come to the professor's lab!"

The two who followed me were making a fuss behind me.

But I was resolute.

'I can't stand seeing more people die, you guys.'

People are dying.

Even if you're not a doctor, when faced with human lives, you should be resolute.

"Who is it?"

Of course, the voice from inside was lower than I expected, making me think about turning back.

But I knew what Professor Blundell looked like.

I wouldn't dare say a word to Robert Liston, but with Blundell, I could say anything.

"Hello, Professor. I'm Pyeong, a first-year."

"Hmm. Come in."

I've long mastered the art of speaking clearly to higher-ups.

So I got permission and entered.

"Huh."

And I froze.

'Robert Liston・・・・・・?

Right, with that vocal structure, it's hard to produce such a voice!

Why are you here together!

A man over 180 cm tall was looking down at me.

The owner of the room, Blundell, was sitting, and with the height difference, only the butcher—no, the doctor—was visible.

Whether he had a doctorate or not, if he's called a doctor, he wouldn't be doing any butchering.

"What's going on?"

"Tell us, Pyeong."

Anyway, now that I was inside, I couldn't stay silent.

I placed the stack of documents on the table and spoke.

"Professor, the difference in the rates of puerperal fever or death between midwives delivering at home and those delivering in the hospital is over tenfold."

"Hmm, so?"

"Until now, it's been explained based on the miasma theory... but there's a decisive difference between the two."

"What's the difference?"

I delivered what I thought was a decisive blow, but Blundell was indifferent.

It was Robert who responded.

He was also indifferent, but at least he was staring at me.

'Well. Even if it's the doctor.......?

Wouldn't it be a relief if even this guy came around?

Thinking like this, I showed them the words 'hand washing.'

"The midwives wash their hands when they visit homes. But here, we don't. That could be the cause of the difference."

"Do you know what the miasma theory you're denying is?"

"The bad air theory, right?"

"It's a theory that's been around for hundreds of years. What you're denying is that. Without any solid evidence."

"But...."

"But it's a new perspective. Hmm... What to do....."

In the end, the ball was passed to the butcher.

Depending on how this goes, he could become a doctor.