Chapter 4: The Vivid and Lively Abdominal Surgery Ah, Please Collect and Recommend
New book uploaded, seeking collection, seeking sponsorship, and seeking recommendation!
"Tartar, you want to suck my blood..."
The noble and beautiful Isabel, Countess of Dernhoff, stood with her mouth agape, staring blankly at the Cossack in front of her, her big eyes flashing as if she were about to cry again.
Just now, it seemed that the doctor's assistant, also known as Zhu Jishi, took a sewing needle from the maid Rosy and pricked her finger to take away a drop of fresh blood - supposedly to test her blood type. Although she didn't understand what it meant, the countess still let the other person prick her with the needle, um, actually the countess wasn't very afraid of pain, and thought it was quite fun.
It was only when the Tartar doctor had fiddled around with a microscope (borrowed from Dr. Blinstein) and several glass slides for a while, taking blood samples from several people in the house - including himself, Isabel, Dr. Blinstein, Will Heming, Chubby and three servants - that he announced his blood type was the same as the dead fat man's, so he had to draw his own blood! He also brought out what looked like a very large glass goblet for the blood...
"Tartars, can't you use my blood?" Will Heming stood up in front of Isabelle, like a man, rolling up his sleeves and revealing sturdy muscles.
"No, a blood transfusion mistake could kill Isabel." Dr. Joo explained the process of blood transfusions and blood types to her, then assured her that taking a small amount of blood would not harm her health.
"Tartar, you mean to say that human blood has several special types?" Old Doctor Bluntschli heard such a theory for the first time. "Who proposed this theory? How come I've never heard of it?"
"This theory... this theory is actually my summary!" Zhu Jisheng originally wanted to report the name of Karl Landsteiner, but after thinking about it, now it seems that it's 1842, and this Austrian medical scientist probably hasn't been born yet. So he shamelessly took credit for this Nobel Prize-level great discovery as his own.
"What's your conclusion? Will it work?" Blonsky looked at Zhū Jìshì with a skeptical face.
"Can't you just try it and see? Zhu Jishi pointed at the fat man who was tied to the table, humming and shouting. "If you don't want him to die, then do as I say."
Dr. Blaustein and Will Heming both fixed their gaze on Isabelle, the countess hesitated for a moment, looked at Zhū Jìshì with a melancholy expression, and stretched out an arm. "Tartar, give my blood to Robert!"
He glanced at the countess's expression, and saw that the old doctor and the young man who had caused trouble were both skeptical. He thought to himself: "Saving this fat guy is probably the first test of his mysterious arrival in 1842? If he can save him, this Churchill fat guy, as well as the beautiful countess in front of him, will only need to slightly support him, and it won't be difficult for him to stand firm in 19th century Europe. As for the future, it can only be taken one step at a time."
The bloodletting process didn't go awry, although Zhu Jishi's hands and feet were heavy, and the needle used for bloodletting was coarse to the point of being frightening (the metal processing technology of this era could probably only produce needles that coarse). However, the female countess still gritted her teeth and let Zhu Jishi prick her twice, drawing a full 400CC of blood, and surprisingly didn't cry out, which made Zhu Jishi look at her with newfound respect.
"Tartars, is this really possible?" From the hand of Zhu Ji Shi, he took over a wine cup filled with fresh blood. Old Blonstein felt like a cultist, and the cleaned-up and bound Qiu Pangzi looked like some kind of sacrifice.
"Blood transfusion is no problem, just follow my instructions, use the syringe to draw blood from the cup into Mr. Churchill's blood vessel." Zhu Jisheng spoke with confidence, but in his heart, he was also worried. Just now, when drawing blood and later when transfusing blood, they used the same syringe, and didn't even change the needle! Heaven knows whether there would be infectious diseases transmitted through the blood?
"What about the operation? Are you sure?" Dr. Bluntschli asked hesitantly. In fact, he had already mentally prepared himself to be dismissed from the British Army, as he was a senior military doctor in the British Royal Guards Cavalry Regiment where Churchill was the deputy commander, and today he was dragged here by Churchill to act as a witness for the duel! However, this is not the Middle Ages, dueling is against the law. Being a witness to a duel is also illegal, if Mr. Churchill really dies, he probably can only resign immediately to save face.
"Dr. Bluntschli, the Tartar doctor, has everything ready for surgery." The maid, Lucinda, approached with a tray of surgical instruments. This red-haired English girl was quite clever and did her "nursing" work very well. She had just followed Dr. Zhū's orders to boil the surgical knife, hemostatic forceps, and the needle that would be used to sew up the abdomen later, and then repeatedly wiped them with iodine and alcohol.
Zhu Jishi opened Ye Yiren's backpack, took a look at the German version of "External Science" textbook inside, and to be honest, he was very tempted to take out this book and read it again before operating on Qiu Pangzi. However, he finally restrained himself because he knew the value of this book in this era! If he could stand firm in England, as long as he copied a few articles from it and sent them to "The Lancet" magazine (the most authoritative medical journal of this era), he might be able to make a name for himself as an "Oriental God of Medicine". So now he couldn't take out the book and expose it. As for Qiu Pangzi's surgery, there shouldn't be any problem. He had studied anatomy, forensic medicine, and all that; it was just a matter of making an incision and removing a bullet, definitely no problem!
After the psychological hint, Zhu Jisheng was no longer so flustered. He opened the medicine box in his backpack and took out a package of absorbable sutures and a pair of disposable rubber gloves. Seeing Zhu Jisheng put on the gloves, Blomstein said in a low voice, "This glove is quite distinctive, what's it made of?"
"Rubber." Zhu Jishi spoke out the word, only to realize that vulcanized rubber might not have been invented yet! He thought to himself that when he had some free time, he would go register a patent for it, and who knows, maybe he could even make some money from it.
"Rubber?" Blomstein shook his head, apparently unaware that rubber could be used for anything other than erasing pencil marks.
Zhu Jishi ignored him, took a surgical needle that was not much different from the one used for sewing clothes from Lucy, threaded it with absorbable suture thread, and then threaded another sewing needle with silk thread provided by Blomstein as a spare. Finally, he picked up a surgical knife that had been sharpened to a bright shine and walked over to Qiu Pangzi.
"Tartar, are you sure you can save Robert?" Seeing that the fat man who had been chasing her for days and had been cheated out of many gifts was about to be executed, the countess's tears fell down like broken pearls.
"I've got it! But don't call me Tartar anymore, I have a name, my name is... Jason." Zhu Jishi didn't dare to say his Chinese name, but instead said his English name. And the ordinary name "Jason" would inevitably spread throughout Europe in this era. However, at this time, Zhu Jishi wouldn't have dreamed that he would soon have a nickname with great deterrent power - Jason the Ripper!
"Wooo..." Qiu Baozi heard "have confidence" and also hummed twice.
"Don't worry, Mr. Churchill, since God has brought us together, you will definitely not die!" This sentence is indeed somewhat reasonable. The Churchill in history was bound to escape this calamity, and Zhu Jishi happened to meet the heavily injured Churchill after crossing over, which was naturally a predetermined fate, how could he let Churchill die?
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