Chapter 367: Pre-Op Talk

When he opened his eyes again, it was the familiar ceiling.

Living at the mountain peak had various inconveniences, but the lighting was excellent; even in the evening, it was bright enough.

The silver mirror's reflection shifted with time, turning red, and scattered across the operating field converted from the scripture-copying room like flames poured into square containers and solidified.

No one had dared to move his position, but a blanket had been added over him. The table had been cleared long ago, covered with fresh white cloth, pressed flat at the four corners, clean as an altar after the offerings had been taken away.

Several figures sat in a half-circle, some tall and some short, leaning against their chairs in drowsy sleep, not even noticing he had already woken.

This feeling of time-jumping reminded him of his days in Wendeng Port; after completing his first surgery, the time he slept was not much shorter than that of patients who had used diluted black liquid.

"How long have I slept? How is the patient?"

"Dominic was transferred to the rest room at noon and woke up before lunch ended. He is a bit confused and irritable, still under protective restraint, but the good news is he can see and recognize the nurse, Field. The vision loss you were worried about did not occur."

Kup took a large step forward, helped him sit up, and said, "It is already past dinner time, but I told the kitchen to leave a portion kept warm on the stove. Should I have it brought over?"

"No, no rush."

His shriveled stomach sent no sensation at all; hunger seemed suppressed, and even the thought of food brought a feeling of nausea.

The brain was in a contradictory state of numbness and clarity, thoughts moving heavily and slowly through the paste but with a clear purpose.

Lips and teeth rubbed together, as if subconsciously chewing on the patient information received.

It sounded very successful—being able to get off the operating table and having the patient still breathing after the procedure already counted as extraordinary success. Not immediately developing life-threatening short-term complications like hemorrhage, hematoma, electrolyte imbalance, or pituitary crisis was even more a blessing from the Heavenly Father.

Come to think of it, both previous craniotomies for hematoma removal and this pituitary tumor resection involved patients who all had church faith. If the Heavenly Father truly exerted power behind the scenes, then the value was indeed high enough.

It was still necessary to go through the motions, to show respect to Him, increasing psychological comfort and metaphysical success rates. Even taking ten thousand steps back, it would still serve to soothe the patient and family, so nothing would be lost.

At this thought, Kraft rubbed his eyes, feeling something seemed missing.

"Bring the holy symbol later and hang it here."

The blinding afterglow of the setting sun fell into the valley. His eyes gradually adapted to the environment, the double vision faded, and he finally saw clearly who had remained: those people.

His two students, and Benny, who was half excited and half anxious. Raymond, the second-in-command of the monastery, was not here; he had only sent two monks to help. This was not out of disregard for the abbot's safety, but because one person being missing meant the documents had not yet been approved.

Physical exhaustion could not suppress psychological excitement. After confirming the operation was error-free, Kraft was eager to share the joy of completion with others.

Unlike other system surgeries in the past, this was the first time, under such harsh conditions, challenging the most precise and dangerous part of the human body to remove structural deformities caused by abnormalities.

Regardless of the method used, it at least proved feasibility; it was a qualitative change from zero to one, from nothing to something, a wonder not belonging to the era.

If Dominic were unfortunately dug up hundreds of years later to contribute bricks and tiles to the cause of archaeology, just the skull alone would make dozens of experts and scholars scratch their heads bald.

"We did it!" He looked at the others: Benny, Yvonne, several monks, and then Kup, hoping to find similar excitement in their eyes.

Sensing his gaze, the crowd packed tightly around him returned looks of confusion, reverence, concern, and... taken-for-grantedness?

"Undoubtedly, you are right, just as with every success before." Kup nodded repeatedly as if waking from a dream. It was clear his reaction was genuine; he felt the only flaw in the surgery was letting him do the stitching, so the lead surgeon certainly could not have problems.

Kup's reaction seemed to flip a switch; the crowd switched to praise mode, either expressing how skillful this surgery was despite their complete lack of understanding of its causes and effects, or bowing in awe at the medical virtue of treating patients regardless of one's own body.

Even Yvonne, who was usually quiet, let out an exclamation, comparing it to the story of the Holy Spirit opening the third eye of spirituality for people; heaven knows where she heard that.

Some even claimed that opening the skull and allowing the Heavenly Father's glory to enter to exorcise evil set a precedent for the fusion of medicine and theology, worthy of being recorded in the classics and vigorously promoted, which frightened Kraft into stopping them immediately. His lifetime of good reputation nearly went up in smoke, heading straight for infamy for ten thousand years.

"From Progress to Regression, Medicine to Theology: The Historical Limitations of the Father of Anesthetic Surgery"—just thinking of that title was terrifying enough; it had to be nipped in the bud.

"Sigh, if only..." His sigh suddenly stopped. He realized he could not think of a single person to share this with. Even if his colleagues from Dunling and Westminster were here, they would probably think there was no essential difference from the previous craniotomy for hematoma removal—both were just opening the skull and not dying.

Perhaps Professor Mo Lisen, who delved into forbidden realms, would understand what he had done, but more likely he would sneer, thinking it was purely going around in circles, a flashy display of skill that tied one's own hands.

"I said stop, stop, that's enough. It's already too cloying. I am not a three-year-old child seeking praise." Kraft glared around, lingering a few seconds longer on the face of the one who had tried to get him recorded in the classics. "All paper records related to the surgery must be reviewed by me. I mean all. Understand?"

He leaned on the operating table, found a chair for himself, and sat opposite Benny: "Mr., you have seen it too. We have already proven our ability to handle the condition."

"Your skill is beyond doubt." The scene of taking something out of the brain was too shocking. Compared to trust, Benny's face showed more unmasked unease. "I do not intend to question, but this method looks... a bit risky."

"Yes, that is exactly what I am about to discuss with you." Kraft raised one hand, signaling the other to say no more; he had his own understanding.

"In fact, the risk of the resection surgery is not simply 'a bit'; it is very high, high enough to approach the limit of my personal handling ability. Even a fifty percent success rate would be a blessing from the Heavenly Father. If not for the fact that delaying the surgery would certainly lead to death, I would never have risked trying it."

"I saw your legitimate son's condition earlier along with others. It is indeed the same type of illness. We must deal with the evil thing inside the skull; otherwise, it will continue to expand until it takes the life."

"But the good news is, compared to the unfortunate monk under my care, he is still in the early stages of the disease. The tumor has not yet compressed surrounding structures, so there is much more time."

"So my idea is that there might be an opportunity to consider adopting some slower, safer methods that do not require opening the skull..."

Kraft felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if introducing a new minimally invasive surgery with a much smaller surface wound but less maturity to parents.

However, parents everywhere, even in other worlds, are similar: if they can choose something that looks smaller, they will definitely choose it.

Sure enough, before he could finish speaking, Benny's follow-up question arrived: "Can Lucian use this?"

Kraft wore an expression of helplessness that was no surprise: "Uh, listen to me finish first. The answer is maybe, but the actual effect is not certain."

"The principle is this. I will explain it in a way easier for you to understand: If we compare the tumor to a fortress holding out within its territory, we usually have two ways to deal with it."

"If time is urgent, we risk a strong assault, digging it out directly. The disadvantage is that our own losses will also be great, and it easily affects the surroundings. If time is ample, we can choose to cut off the supply lines one by one, and it will naturally head toward destruction."

"The plan is this: I have a method to find the blood vessels supplying it and cause damage to the inner walls of these vessels. Then, just like a wound scabbing over, the wounds inside the vessels will also clot and form a thrombus, eventually blocking them completely."

"The disadvantage is that this is a treatment method that exists only in theory, with no practical precedent, and it also carries risks. There is no guarantee that unexpected blood vortices will not occur, carrying the thrombus to other places and blocking other important areas."

"So, which one do you choose?"

?? Anxiously waiting for graduation exam results, feeling uneasy no matter what one does.

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