Chapter 1257: Chapter 155: Problem Student
Gottingen hospital, sunlight streams through the tall windows, spilling onto the long corridor.
Arthur peered into the operating room through the thick white curtains; the 19th-century operating room was vastly different from hospitals a century later.
Even an outstanding institution like the University of Gottingen couldn’t escape the features of the era, where traces of ancient dieval dicine lingered everywhere in sight.
The environnt of the operating room couldn’t be described as clean and bright; heavy curtains were drawn, blocking out natural light, and the room’s illumination relied on several dim oil lamps, with flickering flas casting dark reflections on the surgical knives and tal tools. It was more like a small theater occupied by wooden benches and an iron operating table.
Even though the room was filled with the pungent sll of a mix of dicine and alcohol, the scene still felt far from modern cleanliness and order.
This surgery was personally conducted by Professor John Blunbach, the dean of the dical school. This renowned anatomist and dical professor was known not only for his research in human biology and ethnology but was also a master in surgical procedures.
Blunbach stood next to the operating table, wearing a dark wool coat over which was a leather apron, the hem already stained red with the patient’s blood.
His assistants were also not wearing anything resembling modern sterile surgical gowns, replaced by heavy academic robes and similar surgical aprons.
The professor’s hands were gloveless, grasping the scalpel directly, as many old doctors of the ti did. At a ti without awareness of sterilization, wearing gloves during surgery was often seen as unprofessional, as many thought it would impede the flexible handling of the scalpel.
In the tense and oppressive atmosphere, Blunbach’s voice was low yet clear, his instructions relayed to his assistants one by one, with only the faint “click” of the scalpel cutting the skin and the sound of assistants swiftly passing instrunts. The unfortunate doctoral patient was rely secured to the operating table with simple bandages, and in this early stage of anesthesia developnt, most patients could only rely on a few gulps of strong liquor and opium tincture to alleviate the impending intense pain.
Should an incompetent doctor be encountered, the surgery might not even be finished before the patient regained consciousness. The consequences of such an event are self-evident, evidenced by the occasional pig-slaughter-like screams echoing in the hospital. After all, not everyone possesses the courage to endure bone-removal poison treatnt.
Fortunately, Blunbach was not among the incompetent. As one of Germany’s top surgeons, his movents were precise and decisive, as if handling a precious anatomical specin.
His deep understanding of human anatomy allowed each incision to be accurate, with the angle and depth perfectly suited to the surgery, never making an unnecessary cut.
The dical students observing on the side stared intently at the professor’s actions, hardly blinking for fear of missing any minute detail. Everyone knew just how rare such a learning opportunity was.
If not told, it would be hard for anyone to see that the Blunbach sweating over the operating table was already eighty-one years old. Yet, for an eighty-one-year-old professor, continuing to teach from the podium was already respectable enough. Performing surgery personally as he did today was out of the question, even if he was willing; age simply wouldn’t permit it.
Because, in the eyes of so pig farr, the difference between surgery and pig slaughter was rely in the aim—one intended to save a life, the other to take one—but the external expressions of both were not different, and it was equally laborious.
Of course, no one would dare voice such thoughts in front of Blunbach, not even Observatory Director Gauss, Philosophy College Dean Herbart, or any successive principals and academic directors, all of whom had to dutifully adhere to the teachings of the senior dical professor.
This elderly gentleman was recognized as a genius at the age of sixteen, pursuing a dical degree first at Jena University and then at the University of Gottingen, earning his dical doctorate at Gottingen at twenty-three, and appointed as an adjunct dical professor there at twenty-four, becoming a full professor at twenty-six—eleven years before the French Great Revolution began.
When the Thermidorian Faction ended the Great Revolution and established the Directory, Blunbach was elected as a foreign academician of the Royal Society of Britain and the Arican Academy of Arts and Sciences.
When Napoleon staged the Coup of 18 Brumaire, Blunbach gained the title of a mber of the Arican Philosophical Society.
When Napoleon invaded Spain and Louis Bonaparte, his nephew, was born, Blunbach happily beca a mber of the Dutch Royal Society.
In 1812, as Napoleon retreated from Moscow, Britain set fire to the United States Capitol Building and the White House, and Blunbach acquired the roles of Secretary of the Royal Society of Hanover and a mber of the Swedish Academy of Sciences.
When Napoleon was exiled, he beca the royal physician handpicked by the Duke of Cambridge, Governor of Hanover.
Last year, the title of a mber of the French Academy of Sciences finally fell upon the old man’s head.
However, what Blunbach prided himself on most was not the countless academic titles, but a travel scholarship for students established within the University of Gottingen—the Blunbach Prize. This scholarship, set up in 1825, aid to support talented young doctors and naturalists at the university and was established mainly to commorate the fiftieth anniversary of Professor Blunbach receiving his doctorate at Gottingen.
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