Volume 8: A Trip to the Sick Village Chapter 367 Esophageal Perforation
"Warrior? Sacrifice? What does this mean?"
Leighton wanted to ask a few more questions, but the old man seemed to be dying. He suddenly strangled his throat with both hands with a look of pain on his face. His upper body was stretched into a strange bow shape, and his whole body began to tremble and twitch. His legs kept kicking, and his feet rubbed back and forth on the ground.
"Hello? What's wrong with you?" Leighton was stunned and quickly turned to look at Ivan, "Doctor, what's wrong with him? Is he really choking?"
"Let me see." Ivan walked quickly to the old man, pinched his cheeks with his hands, and forced him to open his mouth.
Ivan pointed the searchlight on his helmet at the old man's throat. After just one look, he concluded: " It's more serious than choking. It's esophageal perforation."
"What? Esophageal perforation?"
"His esophagus was already severely eroded, and he ate too violently just now, which caused the esophageal wall to crack. The food inside leaked out, causing emphysema and compressing the trachea." He paused and continued, "Generally speaking, patients with esophageal perforation will most likely die from bleeding or infection... But in his case, if it is not treated, he will probably die of suffocation in a short time..."
"Doctor, please stop talking so much. We are not treating patients here!" Layton said quickly, "I just want to ask you one question. Can you save this patient?"
"He can be saved, but surgery is needed." Ivan nodded. "I have to cut open his throat from the outside and remove the foreign body. If an abscess has formed outside the esophagus, I will need to open the chest and perform mediastinal drainage."
"Can this operation be done here?" Layton was stunned when he heard that surgery was required.
"The risks of infection and bleeding are very high, but if we don't do it, he will definitely die." Ivan said as he took out the medical kit he carried with him and took out a towel and a bottle of alcohol cotton balls.
"No way? Are you really planning to perform open-heart surgery here?" Leighton moved aside, but there was still a hint of astonishment on his face.
"Thoracotomy is only necessary if an abscess has formed. If it is just a foreign body squeezing out, the surgical incision will not exceed three centimeters. Just make sure to disinfect it." Ivan said as he removed his thick and solid gauntlets and put on a pair of surgical rubber gloves. For surgeries that require precise manipulation, the tactile feedback of the hands is extremely important, and this cannot be replaced by any flexible machine.
Even in this age of precision machinery and highly intelligent AI, the vast majority of surgical operations are performed by the doctor's hands, and operations performed by machines account for less than 20 percent.
Ivan took out an anesthetic needle, flicked the wall , then inserted the needle into the old man's neck cortex and slowly pushed the piston.
There was no ventilator or supporting life support device, so general or spinal anesthesia was impossible, and the operation could only be performed under local anesthesia.
With the injection of the medicine, the old man's convulsions and tremors were slightly relieved, but he was still in a state of respiratory distress, and his complexion began to turn from flushed to purple.
Ivan knew that he didn't have much time left - he picked up the alcohol cotton ball with tweezers, quickly wiped the old man's neck several times, and then put the towel on it.
"But, but..." Leighton, who was watching from the side, opened his mouth, wanting to say something but stopped.
"As a doctor, I didn't just stand by and watch him die. Besides, he's just a patient, not our enemy." Ivan said without looking back, "My hands may be covered with blood and secretions. I need you to pass me something. The equipment box is over here. Remember to wash your hands with disinfectant alcohol before you take it."
"Okay." Leighton hesitated for half a second, then nodded.
But just when Ivan completed a series of preoperative preparations and had already held the scalpel with a No. 10 blade in his hand, several locals in tattered cloaks suddenly appeared in front of them.
"We have to take him away." said the leader.
Ivan raised his head and looked at them.
These people were wearing cloaks made of waterproof cloth, and their faces were hidden behind masks made of human facial bones. Although their bodies were tightly wrapped in clothing similar to the texture of protective clothing, the stench of decay still drifted into Ivan's nasal cavity through the filter of the helmet. At the same time, he could feel a slight tingling in his exposed hands - these people were all severe patients of radiation sickness, and their symptoms were even more serious than the old man in front of him.
From a doctor's perspective, these were a group of people who were about to die, but for some reason, they did not show any signs of weakness. Instead, they made Ivan feel a little threatened.
"You can't do this. If the operation is not performed, this man will die soon." Ivan refused. "Even if you want to take him away, at least wait until I finish the operation!"
"His life comes from the gift of the great god, and his death will also return to the arms of the great god. This is not the end, but liberation. He will become a part of the great god and live forever in the world." The leader continued.
In his hand, he was holding a steel pipe that was more than a meter tall. The pipe was wrapped with rusty barbed wire, and the part he was holding was no exception. The spikes pierced directly into his palm, but he was completely unaware.
"If you try to hinder us, you will be punished." His tone suddenly became heavier, "You have no right to interfere in the affairs here, outsider!"
"Bullshit!" Leighton couldn't help but curse out the dirty words that the hound often said. He grabbed the handle of the gun hanging on his waist, took a step forward, and stood in front of Ivan and the old man.
"Forget it." Just as the two sides were on the verge of a fight, Ivan grabbed Layton's arm from behind and said, "Forget it, Layton, don't conflict with them."
"...Damn it." Layton looked at the men in cloaks, then looked at the old man lying on the side and dying, and finally chose to retreat.
