Chapter 11

From the seating arrangement in the hall, it was evident that the priest held the highest status among the group.

At his command to "let go," even the knight did not object, stepping back with a stern face. The restraint on Great's body immediately loosened. He staggered to his feet, nodded briefly to the priest, and then scrambled to the child's side.

"Hmph! How impolite..."

The knight snorted coldly. The priest interrupted him in a low voice: "Don't speak, watch!"

Great's run couldn't have been more timely. Just a few steps away, the boy, whose neck had been cut, suddenly came to his senses, flailing his limbs and crying loudly. Despite the intensity of his crying, he made little sound, which only increased his fear, causing him to sob uncontrollably, his arms and legs twitching, and he seemed about to faint again.

It was at this moment that Great rushed over. He threw himself forward, pressing his entire body on the child to pin down his legs with his weight. Then, he grabbed the child's arms with one hand and stroked his cheeks with the other, comforting him repeatedly:

"Don't be afraid, you're safe now, you're safe... Just breathe, and you'll be fine... Don't be scared, don't be scared... Follow my breathing, inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale..."

His voice, initially high and urgent, gradually became low and slow, filled with concern. The child was truly calmed by him, opening his big, round eyes and beginning to breathe in sync with his voice. Inhale, exhale, inhale again, exhale again...

Soon, the convulsions subsided. Although he still cried pitifully due to the pain in his neck, his demeanor became much calmer.

This technique wasn't written in any surgical textbook or clinical guidelines. It was a lesson passed down orally by Great's former teacher, the old chief of the emergency department: after performing a tracheotomy without anesthesia, it's crucial to calm the patient's emotions!

When a patient is already suffocating from lack of oxygen, a sudden cut to the neck can cause them to struggle, consuming oxygen even faster. If not properly calmed, they could go into shock at any moment.

...And yes, you also need to calm the family and bystanders... Otherwise, you might be beaten by well-meaning onlookers or even arrested by the police. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Great's thoughts raced, filled with emotion. He hadn't forgotten his teacher's advice; he simply hadn't had the chance to act, having been knocked away by the knight. Fortunately, the knight had shown mercy and hadn't killed him on the spot, or he would have had to cross over again.

Thinking of the knight, he heard him speaking behind him. His voice was low, as if whispering to the priest beside him:

"Can cutting the neck save someone?"

"…I've never seen it done this way," the priest replied. Perhaps due to his role as a spellcaster, the priest's voice was soothing and clear, distinctly different from the knight's deep and resonant tone. Even if Great had just met them, he could immediately distinguish their voices:

"But he seems quite confident. And the child is no longer struggling to breathe, and the cut on his neck hasn't caused immediate bleeding... "

Of course. I've been familiar with the anatomy of the neck since college. If a cricothyrotomy could cut into the major blood vessels, I might as well give up my career!

Great silently complained.

After calming the child in his arms, he sighed with relief and straightened up. The priest, who had been watching with interest, asked when he stopped:

"Is that it?"

"Not yet," Great replied, slightly out of breath. He looked around but didn't see what he was looking for, so he knelt down and called out to the crowd:

"Give me a tube! A hard one! Clean! — Hurry!"

"Did you hear that! A hard tube! Clean! Go find it!"

A deep voice chimed in. Great glanced over and saw it was the farmer Edmund, who had welcomed them. The farmer was highly respected on the farm, and at his command, several people ran off to find the tube.

Great felt a bit more at ease. He turned to the woman who had rushed in with the child, her face streaked with tears, hesitating to touch the child. He sighed and asked her gently:

"When did the child start feeling unwell?"

"During dinner... It got worse, and then I..."

The onset of symptoms was about an hour ago. Great mentally noted this in the medical history and continued:

"What did the child eat for dinner? What did he drink? Was there anything unusual?"

"Black bread, beans... We all ate together, every day, and it was always fine before..."

"Did he touch anything unusual? Was there any painting nearby? Did he pick any fruit? Touch any flowers?"

Great patiently continued his questioning. He was used to this, asking about diet, the surrounding environment, and whether the child had touched, smelled, or done anything out of the ordinary. No detail was too small to overlook.

He remembered a case where a severely allergic patient's cause was found to be peach fuzz, which had blown into his face as he passed a fruit stand...

The experience had turned doctors into detectives.

He spoke softly, asking each question carefully. The woman, tears in her eyes, kept shaking her head. As Great asked, he kept a part of his attention on the child and answered the priest's questions:

"What do you need the tube for?"

"To insert it into the trachea! — Where's the tube! Why isn't it here yet!"

"Here it is, here it is!"

A person sprinted out of the kitchen. His left hand was outstretched, waving to clear the way; his right hand held something high. He ran up, panting, and thrust it into Great's hand:

"Here's the tube! See if it works! — I cleaned it as best I could!"

Great looked down. In his palm lay a chicken leg bone, the ends cut off to reveal the hollow interior. He glanced at the bone and saw that the marrow had been mostly scraped out, allowing candlelight to shine through the other end.

...Well, it'll have to do.

There were no sterile, disposable PVC tracheal tubes, not even a bamboo stick—this land probably didn't grow bamboo. A hollow chicken bone would have to suffice.

Great shrugged. He rubbed his thumb over the cut end of the bone, frowned, and handed it back:

"The cut is too sharp. Smooth it out a bit."

"This..."

Edmund was at a loss. A gentle hand reached out, and the priest took the chicken bone from Great's palm, passing it to the knight:

"Roman, can you help?"

Roman's face darkened. Without a word, he took the bone, rubbed the cut end with his thumb, and then did the same on the other side. Bone fragments fell, and the sharp edges of the cuts, made by a kitchen knife, visibly smoothed out.

Great's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but exclaim softly:

"Wow!"

He did it with his bare hands!

His thumb was like a whetstone!

And it was so effortless!

Are the knights in this world so physically strong?

Before he could close his mouth, the priest had already handed back the smoothed chicken bone, asking curiously:

"Insert it into the trachea? How? Why?"

"—Wow! It really went in!"