A Hospital in Another World?

"Ah!"

"Ouch!"

"Healing spell, quick, quick, quick! Keep up!"

In Operating Room 1, the sounds of conversation, even subdued gasps of alarm, were incessant. In the other six operating rooms, silence prevailed, as eighteen spellcasters pricked up their ears, listening to the pitfalls encountered by the experts, daring not even to cough.

Garrett’s heart pounded.

If this were his hospital in a previous life, never would these experts be allowed to conduct surgery alone. Joking aside, a partial resection of the small intestine, even for benign conditions, was considered a Level 2 to Level 3 surgery! Level 2 surgeries required at least junior attending physicians to lead, and Level 3 surgeries needed senior attending physicians, or junior associate chief physicians!

And here in Operating Room 1, these individuals—though all spellcasters above Level 10—had they memorized the anatomical charts? How was their dissection technique? Had they completed their standardized training? Had they passed their medical licensing exams? How many years had they served as residents, ever been the primary resident for a year? Had they been promoted to attending physician?

Had they independently performed even a single appendectomy? Was there a senior physician guiding them?

And they dared to tackle a Level 2 surgery!

Regrettably, Garrett had no say in the matter. Firstly, these were people here to help him, it wouldn’t be right to prevent them from participating. Secondly, each of these experts in Operating Room 1 had a level of spellcasting that was square of his own, plus a little more...

In other words, by level of spellcasting, those individuals were the senior physicians, and Garrett himself, the junior T_T

But then again, if in his previous life there had been healing spells readily available, perhaps the requirements for surgery permissions wouldn’t have been so strict. A blood vessel cut? Healing spell! An intestine torn? Healing spell! A liver or spleen lacerated? Healing spell!

It was as if a senior doctor was always there guiding, or to be more precise, it was much more useful than the guidance of a senior physician. High error tolerance, low mortality rate, the efficiency of training surgeons, also much higher than in his previous life.

Could this save more patients?

After all, the mortality rate of anthrax was terrifyingly high, aside from those with board-like abdomen, who knows how many more patients had developed intestinal bleeding, perforation. Getting surgery sooner could significantly reduce the chances of septicemia.

Garrett raised his voice:

"Be gentle! You must be gentle! When inspecting the intestines, lift the peritoneum, slowly pull it upwards!"

"Don’t be too rough! Avoid touching the stomach and liver!"

"Don’t puncture the retroperitoneum! The kidneys are behind! The aorta is also behind! Don’t puncture backwards!"

Thankfully, Andrew Lynn’s surgery didn’t involve too many mistakes, basically all within the range Garrett could manage. Deservedly, he had attended over a dozen anatomy classes alongside those necromancer apprentices. The cadaver teachers sent from the Black Crow Swamp truly served their purpose.

After overseeing this surgery, Garrett left the closing tasks behind and dashed to Operating Room 4. The necromancer in Operating Room 4 seemed somewhat familiar, while the War God’s priest and cleric from the Spring Goddess’s temple were likely strangers to him. Seeing Garrett, all three seemed eager to try:

"Magus Nordmark, can we conduct a surgery on our own while you supervise?"

Garrett took a deep breath. He mentally repeated the phrase "A senior resident, under the guidance of a supervising physician, can gradually undertake Level 2 surgeries" twice and lifted his head:

"Okay, I’ll watch over you. Take your time! Try to stabilize this surgery, aiming for independent operation in the next one!"

Necromancers... If, as Archmage Edgar said, each had dissected a hundred or so corpses, their anatomical foundation should at least be equivalent to a senior resident, right?

With the example set by the experts and Garrett teaching from room to room, the eight operating rooms began independent surgeries in a competitive spirit. Garrett thought he might have a moment to breathe, but soon found himself even busier:

"Ah! How is the blood spraying so high! Garrett!"

Garrett dashed off. Upon arrival, he saw bright red blood directly spraying onto the surgical lamp, almost reaching the ceiling. Which artery did you hit? It doesn’t seem like the peritoneal arteries have this kind of force!

"Ah! What’s this? Why is it black and green?"

Garrett ran off again... Nothing much, just intestinal perforation, plus whatever the patient ate yesterday, all leaked out. Garrett waved a magic trick, a cleansing spell did its job, all was well.

"Garrett! Why is the patient

suddenly arching backward! Can’t lay flat on the bed! Can we just press down?"

Garrett ran off again and again... Alright, opisthotonus, a classic symptom of meningitis. Garrett sighed:

"Take him down, toxin in the brain, probably not much chance of survival... Bring in another patient!"

Despite the surgery being fraught with close calls and hazards, eight operating rooms working simultaneously was much faster than Garrett alone. The long line of patients with board-like abdomen soon shrank from the neighboring hospital building, to the connecting corridor between the two buildings, and then just to the corridor outside the OR area.

Seeing the patients nearly dealt with, Garrett nodded to the three experts in Operating Room 1 and dove back into the wards to continue screening patients in need of surgery.

Checking for high fever patients list!

Visually assessing patient conditions!

Listening to bowel sounds, pressing to evaluate the abdominal situation, X-ray for gas-fluid levels!

The high-level mages in the ORs, just finishing the first batch of patients, thought they could rest a bit. Garrett, however, rustled up dozens more...

"Are we even meant to live?!"

In the eight operating rooms, twenty-four spellcasters, half of them screamed in dismay...

Down in the wards, Garrett grew increasingly reassured. Penicillin deliveries kept coming, injected into patients one by one; the conditions of those he had personally monitored did not worsen, signs of peritonitis were being controlled; and the rate of mild cases turning severe began to slow down!

With penicillin available, at least they could buy time, waiting for the spellcasters’ healing spells to recover, or, to queue up for the operating table!

After screening one floor of patients, Garrett was about to move to another when Archmage Edgar hurriedly stopped him. The archmage, rushing and with a look of concern:

"Little Garrett, I need to step out for a bit! Go back to the OR, take my place!"

"Okay! —Archmage, what happened? Is there anything I can help with?"

"Just do the surgery." Archmage Edgar waved him off and walked away quickly. Stepping out of the infectious diseases hospital, a mage in black robes approached him, summoning two shadowy steeds:

"The latest news, near the water source of that water supply company, traces of a plague-related curse have been discovered!"

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