Chapter 214: An Unexpected Surgical Opportunity

"Do you want to live?" Henry asked.

"Do you want to die?" the old man lying on the table, struggling constantly to rise, retorted.

Henry swept all the gold coins the Slav had placed on the table away, keeping only one for himself and returning the rest to their original owner. At the same time, he said, "If you want me to help him, get a few people to hold down his hands and feet."

Stuffing the remaining gold coins in his pocket, the Slav gave a signal to those behind him, and three or five burly men stepped forward, tightly gripping the old man's four limbs.

The old man cursed, "Damn it, what are you bastards doing? Do you think I won't shoot you on the spot?"

The melancholy handsome Slav shook his head and said, "If you don't cure yourself, you won't have that chance."

Henry tore open the clothes at the gunshot wound, which was located near the lower left lung lobe. The blood flowing out was not quite right; it was too thick and dark, almost approaching black.

Moreover, the old man had symptoms of coughing. It was precisely because of the violent action of coughing that the original emergency personnel found it difficult to provide aid. And the emergency personnel's clumsy actions made the old man curse even louder, doubling his volume.

Without thinking twice, Henry pressed down on the old man's chest. The pain made the other party almost spring up, and he headbutted Henry, knocking him unconscious. Fortunately, his own companions held down his limbs, preventing him from succeeding.

Seeing this, Henry said, "Do you have lung cancer?"

"You have lung cancer, your whole family has lung cancer, your entire body is lung cancer!" the old man said with full vigor, looking nothing like a lung cancer patient. But as soon as he finished speaking, he coughed violently, as if he were about to vomit up his lungs.

Seeing this, Henry said happily, "You are very lucky. I have already agreed to treat you. And I have never cut out lung cancer before. Oh, I should say I have never cut out anything before."

As if knowing disaster was imminent, the old man shouted excitedly, "What are you doing, you quack!"

"I am trying to help you."

"I didn't ask you to help! Get out, get out!"

"But I promised someone else. If you think you can refuse and stop a doctor from operating, you should go to a proper hospital."

If surgery was required, the first aid kit on hand was insufficient. And there was the issue of anesthesia.

Major surgeries always require general anesthesia. This is to prevent the patient from moving their body due to discomfort or pain during the operation, which not only makes it difficult for the surgeon to perform the surgery but also increases the unnecessary risk of accidentally injuring other areas.

But anesthesia is also a great science; too much or too little will cause problems.

However, since Henry was not a properly trained doctor and this was not a proper sterile operating room, he designed a procedure himself based on the knowledge he had read in books.

First, several sewing needles were found and sterilized, serving as golden needles for acupuncture, and inserted into the old man's body, mainly to block the transmission of nerve sensations.

To completely paralyze the person receiving the needles and allow for rapid recovery after needle removal was a temporary measure Henry had not yet figured out. So they still had to rely on the Russians themselves to hold down their own comrade.

Especially since he did not need much surgical field of view, only enough space to operate. So he could modify the existing surgical methods a bit, following the techniques of future minimally invasive surgery.

But after all, it was not surgery performed with a Da Vinci arm, so it was still different from the true minimally invasive surgery of the future. However, the fact that the incision could be smaller was undeniable.

Simulating a set of surgical procedures in his mind a thousand times was, for Henry who possessed a super brain, nothing more than the blink of an eye. Amidst the old man's curses, Henry made the first cut!

Removing the bullet head that had penetrated the body was as simple as it had been for the previous few injured. Sometimes, there was no need to make an additional incision; the bullet head could be extracted from the bullet hole using only tweezers.

As long as the internal bleeding was not severe, Henry usually would not enlarge the wound, which would prolong the postoperative recovery time. But performing lung cancer surgery was not that simple.

Fortunately, the circle of people surrounding them were all street loiterers who were barely literate, so no one questioned Henry's actions. In fact, most of them did not even understand what Henry was preparing to do, even while standing beside him watching.

So Henry had no psychological burden and just started cutting with the knife. Issues like adhesions or rib obstruction were not big problems for Henry. Even the person struggling and moving around was a small matter for him, given his super speed and reflexes.

The old man, whose chest had been cut open, shouted loudly, "You quack, you damn quack! I will complain about you and cancel your medical license. Is this how surgery is done?"

Henry replied with a smile, "You don't need to bother. Do you think I have a medical license that someone can cancel?"

"What, then where did you study medicine? Did you learn it from Gypsies or from African witch doctors?"

"Oh, you can rest assured about that. I studied at the Los Angeles Library and furthered my studies at the New York Public Library. My knowledge is absolutely abundant and advanced. It is not some primitive method of Gypsies or African natives."

"Walter! You have no medical license, and you haven't studied at a medical school, yet you dare to operate on me like this?"

Henry answered, "Anyway, you don't have medical insurance to apply for, so why demand so many formal conditions? Is curing yourself more important, or weighing how many jin my medical certificate totals is more important? Or do you think there are no quacks among medical school graduates? That is discrimination!"

"This has nothing to do with discrimination! You damn bastard, don't let me get off the bed, or I will kill you."

Although Henry spoke up to refute, the old man's loud questioning made even the Russian gang members holding him down murmur in doubt.

They didn't know whether they should let go and help the old man stop that young man who looked completely unreliable. But the knife had already cut into the chest and pulled out a large hole... Was this the time to stop?

"Ah!" The old man struggled desperately. The Russian gang members had to add a few more people to hold him down, finally restraining the man who was almost going mad.

Henry ignored whether the other party was truly in pain or just purely angry, and continued to cut. Seeing a heart beating nearby while he was cutting out a blackened lung lobe, this novelty stimulated Henry's senses.

Clamping out a clump of deformed, black rotten flesh from the gaps between the ribs, Henry threw it onto a nearby iron tray, covering the bullet head removed earlier, then quickly ligated and closed the chest.

The old man, whose curses had not ceased throughout the process, had used up almost all the strength of several lifetimes.

After closing the chest and suturing, Henry pulled out the embroidery needles inserted into the other party's body. The old man collapsed and fainted like a robot that had lost its power. The others looked at each other and let go of their hands.

(End of this chapter)