Chapter 187: Not Manifested on the Surface

According to standard thoracentesis protocols, the patient should generally rest in bed for several hours after the procedure to prevent postoperative complications.

Considering this case is a special situation, this period can be considered to need extension, observing vital sign changes more cautiously to prevent the unexpected.

Kraft stayed in the room for a while, uneasy, but staying with the Grand Duke was indeed not a comfortable thing; he was the kind of person who could spontaneously transform the atmosphere of a fireside conversation into an incineration within the hearth.

After confirming this set of weight-bearing cardiopulmonary functions was operating normally, the doctor rose like sitting on pins and needles to take his leave. Bearing in mind the generally poor sense of time prevalent at present, he made a conservative estimate, instructing that bed rest must be maintained before dinner, absolutely ruling out vigorous exercise.

The medical instructions were strictly executed in a certain sense.

Under the escort of the castle's armed forces, Kraft returned to his residence to check on the other patient.

By comparison, Yin Feng's condition was not so good. The impact of forcibly tearing the Fungus Spirit on the spirit was very obvious; the state of sleepiness persisted for most of the day, and she only barely recovered some spirit this morning. Until now, she still remained in a somewhat listless state.

"Nothing feels uncomfortable, even feeling a bit clearer, as if the familiar background noise in the ears suddenly disappeared; I can't say what disappeared, only that it's very quiet." She said this, pursing her lips to swallow a yawn, "Just a bit sleepy."

As a precaution, a physical examination was still unavoidable. Based on the deep impression left by the fungus controlling and replacing parts of the motor system's performance, he carefully conducted a routine neurological examination—a strange operation of raising heads, lifting legs, and kicking feet in Yin Feng's eyes.

Subjective worry makes one particularly sensitive to reactions; even the slight opening of toes when brushing the outer side of the sole would trigger re-examination, until confirming whether it was avoiding ticklishness or a pathological reflex.

"Now exert force, swing your arm forward, resist my strength."

The girl cooperated fully in making the movement; both limbs were powerful and exerted force symmetrically. For a patient still lying in bed, this level could be said to be quite good.

"That's enough, put it down..." Kraft released her arm. The suspended left arm did not fall naturally but lingered for a moment, relaxing and dropping slightly slower than the opposite side. "Relax, no need to exert force."

Out of an obsessive-compulsive attitude, he repeatedly pressed lightly on the muscles of both upper arms, finding a difference he was somewhat unsure if it was psychological; the muscle tension on the left side was very subtly a bit higher, pressing right on the borderline that couldn't be determined by touch.

In the vision of the spiritual organ, the parasite adhering to the spirit body contracted comprehensively, attempting to heal the torn wound, with no intention of active expansion. If tearing could be performed once daily, the accumulated effect would surely cause its collapse, but the patient would likely die even earlier.

What could bring a slight sigh of relief was that there were currently no changes in various parts of the body; the suspected lung inflammation caused by infection showed no trend of progression, and the suspected abnormal left upper arm showed no lesions sufficient to distinguish.

This location, close to the Fungus Spirit, still made him feel quite concerned, but the results of the physical examination were too subjective, and the precision of the spiritual senses couldn't be used as a microscope, so he could only drop a "continue observation" and let it go.

Next came some relatively boring content; Kraft, having lost the electronic medical record system, began to handwrite the medical history.

These were two very valuable cases, representing the two ways the Fungus Spirit infects humans: the spirit body and the material. Systematically organizing the onset, treatment, and outcome processes would provide strong reference significance for future diagnosis and treatment.

Unlike anesthesia tutorials that could be publicly released, he temporarily couldn't think of how to preserve these things, nor did he have the opportunity to popularize them.

Since Edward's manuscripts could still cause harm to this day, writing a bit more now might prove useful later; at the very least, they could be tucked into a notebook.

This actually gave him some inspiration. As an author with considerable financial means, he could publish treatises anonymously, leaving only a personal mark, to gain sufficient influence.

Then, by smuggling in private goods, disguise problems caused by deep-level effects as rare diseases and stuff them in, proposing empirical treatment plans. Coincidentally, they indeed differed little from common disease symptoms, lacking specificity, and some treatment plans were operable by ordinary people.

For instance, artificial pneumothorax could be performed entirely by experienced physicians. As for popularization, as long as the tuberculosis treatment plan was stuffed into the main treatise, its spread throughout the kingdom would be faster than "On the Structure of the Human Body."

Of course, under ideal circumstances, a sufficiently authoritative medical institution would need to endorse it, preferably having no public relation to content suitable only for private circulation, while acknowledging the legitimate treatise being issued.

This still needed long-term discussion; Kraft felt a good opportunity was actually right before his eyes, and with proper operation, it would be easy to lay a good foundation for the goal.

While envisioning the solution, the headache caused by the overuse of spiritual organs in recent days also seemed to subside considerably, and his mood improved slightly.

This good mood lasted only until a guard interrupted his half-written medical history, delivering an invitation to dine together.

Kraft rubbed his eyes, looked at the sun still hanging high in the sky, and felt a severe sense of unreality. "Now? If I'm not mistaken, the afternoon hasn't even passed half."

"Yes, you are not mistaken." The guard confirmed his words without any intention of leaving. "The Duke has decided to move the dinner time earlier."

Kraft realized the headache might not be, or at least not entirely, caused by the overuse of spiritual senses. Someone must be held responsible for this.

Naturally, he also failed to stop that dinner.

In short, amidst various unexpected operations, the Duke unexpectedly transitioned smoothly to the third gas injection treatment a week later.

The injected gas was partially absorbed and then replenished repeatedly; the right lung, with more tuberculosis lesions, was gradually compressed and collapsed. The Fungus Spirit migrated once, moving to a cavity closer to the hilum, but this place also became uninhabitable after being compressed again.

The treatment was approaching the final and most dangerous stage.

It was estimated that midway through the next gas injection, the Fungus Spirit would choose to leave this "deteriorating environment" of the lungs. He would have to insert the tube through the Duke's mouth, passing through the glottis into the trachea, to prevent possible obstructive asphyxia.

At the same time, all fungal infection foci in the body would be activated, causing persistent fever and convulsion symptoms, which would not alleviate on their own until the Fungus Spirit was removed.

"Very effective, I dare say all previous treatments combined don't amount to one-tenth of these few days." At the edge of the training ground, the Duke breathed the dusty air, watching the knight squires performing with extra effort, sparing no words of praise.

"It feels so good not to cough up blood from the throat. If only it were a bit better... just a bit, perhaps I could wear armor again. To be honest, I truly envy these young men."

"If you were willing to pay a little attention to the doctor's advice, you would surely remember this is merely a facade; your condition has not improved at all." Kraft ruthlessly shattered his illusions, repeating yesterday's explanation.

"It's like pressing on a wound to stop bleeding; only now, what is pressing on the wound inside the lungs is the pumped-in gas. It is a palliative therapy. Until you decide to rest properly and stay away from such harmful environments, this is temporary."

"I trust my own feelings, Doctor Kraft. Please start the final treatment as soon as possible; I can't wait any longer."

"Before this, I must explain the special nature and risks of this treatment to you, including..."

"If you were willing to change that point, I would hope to invite you to be my medical advisor." The bony hand released the sword hilt; the Duke let out a dry cough-like laugh rolling in his throat, and after weighing momentary pleasure against longer-term health, abandoned the thought of joining the exercise.

"But I guess you can't; you are also a very stubborn person. There will be a suitable position over at Rivers, if you need it."