A Hospital in Another World?

Chapter 45

The gaze was all too familiar. Patients, family, no distinction of gender or age, status or rankso many looked at him this way. Garrett almost blurted out "I can heal" reflexively, but it transformed on the tip of his tongue into: "There's a possibility of healing."

After stating the conclusion, Garrett immediately shifted back. Even though he sat in a chair against the wall, his back against the wall, there was no escape, yet he instinctively tried to retreat further.

In his previous life, when you said "possibility," patients and families weren't satisfied. There'd likely be an inquisition: how likely is healing, how long will it take, how much will it cost...

Eventually, it would end in complaints about the doctor's reluctance to give a definite answer. And if the temper wasn't good, it'd lead to a round of complaints.

Even if these knights had good temperaments and didn't cause trouble, even if they shook him by the shoulders, he couldn't handle it!

Garrett cautiously looked across. Contrary to his expectations, after a brief stupor, Knights Flynn and Sir Westlow immediately rejoiced. One of them reached out, grabbing Sir Balen's shoulder, shaking him vigorously:

"It can be healed! It can be healed!"

"Old Balen, did you hear that? It can be healed!"

"You've consulted so many... So many... It's been three years, three years..."

The two men shouted passionately. Their voices gradually lowered, becoming hoarse, almost like howls in the dark night.

Sir Balen sat like a puppet, unresponsive, despite their attempts to shake him. After a while, with a sudden jolt, he stood up, shrugged off the two, and slightly bowed to Garrett:

"Then please, heal him quickly!"

"Yes, quickly!"

Knights Flynn and Sir Westlow immediately understood. The three formed a half-circle, leaning forward, staring down at Garrett, almost as if they wanted to swallow him whole. Under their intense gazes, Garrett shrank back a bit more:

"Not possible right now..."

"Why not? Didn't you say it can be healed?" Sir Balen's voice heightened instantly. Garrett sought help in a glance toward Knight Flynn, arguing softly:

"I can't do it now... I'm missing something..."

Amidst the clamor inside and outside the room, Garrett's figure was engulfed. Sir Balen, Knight Flynn, Sir Westlow, everyone was clamoring. The bald bishop's voice was louder than anyone's:

"Young Garrett, can you truly heal this injury? What's missing? Is it lacking the material for casting? If your healing art isn't strong enough, tell me how to do it, I'll take over!"

Expectant eyes once again focused on Garrett.

Seeing no troublemakers or complainers, Garrett relaxed. He took a step forward, looked into the bishop's eyes, and answered loudly:

"I'm seventy percent sure of healing alone. But to ensure afterward that the wrist remains flexible, capable of exerting force without harming elsewhere, I need to check my tools to know the certainty."

"Can't you heal it now?"

The bald bishop and Sir Balen seemed somewhat disappointed. Garrett pondered for a moment, grasped Sir Balen's arm, gesturing and explaining:

"It's like this. Your arm has many muscles, each reliant on tendonswhat you call tendonsthat attach to bones. I reckon the tendon you broke is the radial flexorright here, to here,"

He moved his fingers along Sir Balen's arm, pressed near the elbow on the forearm, slid downward, and then tapped the base of the palm. Then, he drew a line across the scar on the right wrist:

"That's where it snapped. Tendon strength is significant; when it snaps, the entire muscle contracts. What I need to do is cut the skin, pull out the contracted muscle, stretch it back to its original position, and let the tendon heal."

He tried to keep his explanation simple. As soon as he finished speaking, Sir Balen immediately stood up, exclaiming:

"Why wait? Heal it now!"

Clang! A dagger landed on the table, gleaming coldly.

Garrett: "..."

I need forceps! Hemostats! Sutures! This surgery might need to be done under a microscope. No microscope? Give me a magnifying glass at least!

He choked on his words, caught between disbelief and disbelief. Before he could recover, the bald bishop questioned:

"I've tried this method before. But it didn't heal! "

Tried this method too?

Garrett looked at him with new respect. Big guy, you're gutsy! Studied medicine for a few years? Dissected a few cadavers? Know how to cut without severing blood vessels, how to avoid cutting nerves?

Hmm... how do I explain this?

Garrett fetched paper and pen, quickly sketching on the desk. Moments later, the ulna, radius, metacarpals were vividly depicted, with over a dozen muscle fibers attached to the bones. An illustration of the forearm muscles and bones was now on the paper.

This was something he'd done countless times in his previous lifemaking it not just detailed but clear was routine. One person drawing, four heads leaning in, the bald bishop found the room too dim and casually cast a spell, illuminating the entire room.

Garrett: "...Your mind's already bright enough."

Not even two minutes passed, and a rough sketch was complete. Garrett murmured, "Even those without medical knowledge do it like this," slowing down his speech, beginning his explanation:

"See this on your arm? Besides muscles, there are veins and nerves... 

I'll explain nerves later! Anyway, injuring any of these makes the arm dysfunctional. You think cutting and pulling it out will heal it?"

The bald bishop nodded vigorously. Garrett turned to Sir Balen, frustrated:

"What good is just a knife? You think this is slaughtering a pig? Skinning a sheep? You cut, reach in, pull out the tendon, sew a few stitches, and that's it? I'm asking, if I cut your wrist, will it hurt? Will it move?"

"We'll hold him down!" both Knight Flynn and Sir Westlow replied simultaneously. Garrett snorted. Holding down? This is tendon surgery, not bone-setting!

"I can endure without moving!" Sir Balen shouted loudly. Garrett retorted:

"What use is your endurance? If you hold it too tight, I can't stretch the muscle! Each of you, one by one,"

He pointed to Flynn, Balen, and finally the outermost, Sir Westlow. The other day, during Sir Westlow's chest decompression, a knife barely pierced the chest, only with the help of Flynn's quick action:

"Each one of you is a knight, me! Use a knife! None of you can even pierce!"

Sir Balen was speechless. Just then, a flash of light caught Garrett's eye. He turned to see the bald bishop swiftly snatch the sketch and stuff it into his robes...

As Garrett looked over, the bishop winked at him openly, with a mischievous smile.

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