While the wounds are concerning...
The most urgent matter is undoubtedly rabies, isn't it?
Thinking logically, since Emily Brontë died around the age of thirty, it's unlikely she died from rabies...
But then again, when people fall seriously ill, their bodies tend to weaken.
'Her father didn't seem particularly wealthy, either.'
Of course, with proper nutrition and medical care, especially for a young child, recovery would have been possible.
But this was the 19th century.
A time when even royalty was dropping like flies...
And for someone from a declining clergyman's family, what kind of life could they expect?
'Well... she probably ended up contracting tuberculosis later.'
If you were to list diseases inseparable from humanity, a few would immediately come to mind, wouldn't they?
Nowadays, most of these diseases have been conquered, but...
Anyway, the dominant diseases of this era were influenza, tuberculosis, syphilis, and malaria, among others.
All of these had a profound impact on human history, so imagine the toll they took on individual lives.
"Let's go. We need to see how emaciated she is."
"Ah, right. But will that really be effective? It needs to do more than just cauterize."
So, I did my best to clean the wound and then boarded the carriage.
Liston couldn't join me.
He had over six limbs to amputate today.
I'm not sure if that's fortunate or not...
Given that he's already achieved a level of fame that's hard to surpass, he no longer performs amputations in public squares.
Of course, there's no dedicated operating room, so he does it in a lecture hall...
But at least it's better than doing it outside, where the risk of infection is higher.
'Back then, it even rained during one of his amputations.'
Rain.
If this were some rural village, you might believe the rain was clean, but this is London.
Chimneys everywhere, all spewing black smoke.
In the 21st century, people made a fuss about acid rain, but...
The rain here is practically German, I'd say.
"I think so. At least it's better than cauterizing."
"If you say so, then it must be. Alright, go ahead. Rabies isn't my specialty anyway."
"Yes."
"Ah."
"Yes?"
"If the inflammation worsens, I'll amputate, so don't worry."
"Ah... yes..."
Right, how many cases of tetanus resulted from dog bites?
And even without that, all sorts of strange infections must have occurred.
In an era without antibiotics or even the concept of sterilization, Liston's role was crucial.
'Even so, thinking about amputating a child's arm...'
Could Emily Brontë have been one-armed?
I don't know enough to say for sure.
I just hope she wasn't.
With that thought, I took the carriage and headed out of London.
Normally, it would have been drizzling, but...
Fortunately, the manor we arrived at was dry enough to be described as crisp.
At least the sun is better here than in London.
'In damp London, bread rots, and here, brains dry... I guess we'll have to manage both.'
As I climbed the ladder to the roof, I felt a slight existential crisis.
Good heavens!
Rotten bread and dried brains.
How is this any different from the herbs used by medieval witches?
If I let my guard down for even a moment, I might end up sneaking in some bat droppings...
"Hmm. Crispy. Hmm... Will this work?"
Knowing it couldn't be helped, I forced myself to focus and brought down the dried brain and spinal cord.
The coachman who saw this clicked his tongue.
Why?
It's obvious, isn't it?
I look like a medieval witch.
If I had told him I was going to feed this to a patient, I'd probably have been crucified upside down.
'Dr. Liston... thank you...'
The coachman was probably too scared of him to say anything.
Anyway, I got back into the carriage with the items.
"Let's go."
"Ah... yes. Is that... medicine?"
"Yes."
But the coachman kept asking.
Honestly, even I was starting to doubt myself.
Why?
Well, why does it look like this?
Is it because my dissection skills are so good that I've preserved its original shape?
It really looks like just a dried brain and spinal cord.
And I'm supposed to feed this to someone?
Someone who's already in great pain...?
'Louis Pasteur... did you really feed this to people?'
Most people think of milk when they hear Pasteur, but...
From a medical history perspective, he was truly remarkable, wasn't he?
And yet, he did this...?
"Oh. It looks like it'll be easy to swallow."
"Right. Hmm... it seems like it'd be good for your health."
While I was lost in these thoughts, we arrived at the hospital.
London was already congested enough for the term "traffic jam" to exist, but since it was the social season, the wealthy, the aspiring wealthy, and the ambiguous were all out in the countryside, so there were no carriages.
That didn't mean the streets were empty, though.
There were plenty of laborers wandering around with vacant expressions.
-"Make way!"
In this era, laborers were practically synonymous with the weak, so they didn't pose much of an obstacle to carriages.
I suppose that's a silver lining...
Anyway, we arrived early enough to face our proud 19th-century doctors.
And they marveled at the raw, unprocessed dog brain and spinal cord I brought.
"Does it really look that good? You're not just saying that because of me?"
"No, really. I'm salivating."
"Hmm..."
Salivating...?
It's hard to see it as just strange.
This era claims to be the age of science, but it's really an age of barbarism.
Superstitions were rampant, and strange edibles were everywhere.
And the bizarre belief that these strange things were good for you was widespread.
It's almost laughable that these same people, after adopting a bit of scientific thinking, made a documentary called "Mondo Cane" in the 20th century.
"Well, that's a relief."
What's good is good.
Without this, how would a 21st-century person survive in the 19th century?
I forcibly tucked away the thoughts that were spiraling out of control and headed to the patient.
I didn't go to Emily first.
The person bitten yesterday was more urgent, wasn't he?
He was bitten on the upper arm, not even the forearm.
'The closer to the head, the faster the progression.'
Rabies, after all, is a disease caused by a virus that targets the brain.
This means preventive measures or treatments must be administered before the virus reaches the brain.
Even in the 21st century, those bitten on the neck were as good as dead, so it's a no-brainer now.
Even without rabies...
Local infections near the neck were dangerous enough.
"Ugh..."
Anyway, the ward where the man was admitted was the amputation ward.
Technically, as an experimental treatment subject, he should have been in the research lab, but things had turned out this way.
So, Emily Brontë ended up in what could be called the VVIP room of the research lab. Is that a good thing?
"It's too much here..."
Of course, I'm not so insensitive as to ask this man, "Isn't this great?" So, I started with words of comfort.
"It's tough. The amputation ward is full of suffering people."
"No, it's more than that..."
"And you're in pain too, right?"
"Yes, yes."
Anyone can offer words of comfort, so while I spoke, I also examined the patient's wound.
Not only was he bitten, but he was also cauterized.
It was like adding insult to injury.
I had briefly considered cauterizing Emily's arm yesterday, thinking it might help with infection control.
I should be beaten for that.
'The forehead is fine, but there's severe local fever. Well... the skin barrier was thoroughly burned...'
It's only now that I'm realizing this, so I'm really in trouble.
Right, burns are one of the biggest risk factors for infection, aren't they?
The skin, the strongest barrier against infection, is completely compromised by burns.
So, in other words, this patient's wound was already a mess from the bite, and then it was cauterized, making it even worse.
"Drink this first."
Meanwhile, the bandages... why the hell did they wrap them so poorly?
If they were going to bandage it, they should have at least used clean ones.
Leaving that aside, it was a disaster.
"Alright, I'm removing them."
"Huh? Ah, ahhh!"
The patient, who had endured being bitten by a rabid dog and even being cauterized without fainting, now lost consciousness.
Even though I had given him willow bark extract.
It was only natural.
"Ugh."
The bandages, if you could even call them that, were just random cloths, and pieces of the patient's torn skin were stuck to them.
They hadn't applied any ointment, just dry bandages on the cauterized wound. Of course, this would happen.
"Is this okay?"
Joseph and Alfred, who saw this, asked me.
The cauterized area was completely mangled.
"Do you think it's okay?"
"No."
"So... if anyone has a bite wound, tell them not to cauterize it..."
"That... makes sense."
If the wound were small, cauterizing might have been an option.
Or if a blood vessel was exposed and bleeding heavily, there'd be no time to think, so cauterizing would be necessary.
But... a wound this large shouldn't have been treated that way.
After all, causing a bigger wound in the name of treatment is just absurd.
Drip, drip.
Even as I thought this, and even as I doubted whether this patient would survive, I did my best to examine the wound.
All I could do was clean it with boiled, cooled water and check for internal damage...
"Don't cover it with anything. Leave it as is."
"Ughhh!"
It was only after cleaning the wound and some time had passed that the patient woke up.
He was drenched in cold sweat.
It must have been painful.
Willow bark extract has some pain-relieving effects, but how strong could it be?
"I'm sorry. But it had to be done."
"Ughhh..."
The patient, filled with pain and anger, tried to lash out at me, but it was futile.
Joseph and Alfred were holding his arms.
Well, one arm.
The other arm was too painful to move.
"This also has to be done."
With the patient restrained, I presented him with the dried dog spinal cord.