Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

It has to be said that sometimes life is so bizarre, full of twists and turns like the elusive will of Heavenly Father.

For example, on a rainy night, I received an irresistible mission to go out and find someone. When I got there, I learned that the person happened to be attending a banquet outside the city today.

Cursing the damn extravagant habits of those nobles, he finally arrived at the venue and used both soft and hard tactics to break in and meet people. I thought it would take a lot of effort, but the other party was surprisingly easy to talk to and skipped what I thought was the most difficult step.

Just when everything was going well, something happened that was completely out of my mind. Someone launched an attack on the Inquisition team on the outskirts of Dunling.

Before they could pour out all their anger tonight on these blind guys, the horses were hit by arrows and fell to the ground, without giving them any chance to perform.

Then, unfortunately, his leg was pinned down and his head hit the ground hard.

Losing consciousness is not always a bad thing, it just fast forwards and skips the most dangerous part of the battle, but not waking up after the battle is another problem.

However, the paradox of fate is that if you hadn't been seriously injured and fell to the ground, you would never have known that the banquet you just left was a team building event for a medical school and a product exhibition for medical equipment manufacturers.

Dramatically, the quantity and quality of doctors available in this region is unprecedented. It can be said that as long as a thunder hits the ceiling of the house and falls on the table filled with dishes, the medical level from Dunling to Westmin will be set back ten years on the spot.

The bad news is that after seeing the situation, several of them with more seniority said they were helpless. You don't know whether this is due to professional judgment or some personal grudges. After all, the relationship between the two parties has never been harmonious.

There is no such thing as a medical error appraisal these days. If you really need someone to appraise it, you will find that the qualified experts are still the same people. It is a pure endless cycle.

"The fracture is secondary. The professor handled it promptly and properly. Considering his age, it won't be impossible to heal." Viren also came around and pressed the head of the unconscious monk lying on the ground.

The scalp was swollen, and when pressed it was not a lump but a rippling sensation, indicating bleeding beneath the impact site.

"The key is inside, there may be bleeding under the skull. We have had patients who were unconscious after being hit on the head. It was later proven that the cause of death may be intracranial hemorrhage and compression, which squeezed and displaced the brain."

Sounds suspicious, especially the part about how to find out the cause of death. But even if you don't believe in the moral bottom line of this group of people, you have to believe in their professionalism.

Now that I have said that, usually all that is left is to pray to Heavenly Father.

The few physicians present were willing to give a few prescriptions for dealing with congestion, but their practical significance was seriously questionable.

But Kraft offers another option, one that may sound particularly unfriendly.

As soon as he saw the patient's condition, he knew that he had to put aside the dissection of the body with a special structure and consider the issue of living people first - otherwise he would not have to think about it again soon.

Opening the victim's eyelids, the pupils were dilated and less sensitive to light. No need to say "maybe", this is a sign of intracranial injury.

Thinking that this group of people really tried hard to protect themselves in the chaos, and it was very possible that they stepped out of a trap aimed at them in advance. Out of conscience, it is necessary to grab a handful, even if it may bring some trouble to oneself.

He briefly opened his mental senses and confirmed the diagnosis of "God knows where the intracranial injury was" to "left temporal and parietal epidural hematoma."

To put it simply, there is bleeding between the braincase and the dura mater, and the space within the braincase is limited. It now appears that the bleeding has become so large that it is beginning to press on the brain tissue, slowly pushing it into places where it shouldn't go.

His hair was still wet, and he had just cleaned up and changed into clean clothes. "My suggestion is to open a small piece of the skull and drain out the stasis."

It feels like déjà vu. There must have been a famous doctor who made similar suggestions at an inappropriate time, and it became a typical example of poor doctor-patient communication in the early days.

The difference is that Kraft feels that his plan is quite conservative. In the final analysis, all operations do not involve the slightest bit of brain involvement, conditions are not exceeded, and the equipment is available for self-service.

The few monks who were still alive looked at each other, and no one gave an answer. In fact, it is already a sign of self-restraint to not jump up and prescribe a scoop to the doctor who proposes a treatment plan.

"This is just a plan. If we don't deal with it, we can only hope for mercy from Heavenly Father."

There was a little commotion among the doctors around. Apparently people in the industry had their doubts, but at least on the surface it was well controlled, and something invisible prevented them from judging.

Even if it sounds unconventional, not everyone in the professional field can question a professor's proposed treatment plan.

"There are indeed many treatments for drilling into the skull, but they were mostly used for mental illnesses in the past, but now they are used less." However, Willen saw that Kraft was serious about his suggestions and stepped forward to provide support.

Although from a professional ethics standpoint, he couldn't say "if the church is forced to die, it will die", but it is necessary to weigh the pros and cons. Taking risks and getting cured won't do much good, but things going wrong will definitely be very troublesome.

The lecturer gave Kraft a wink, implying that there was no need to go through this scene, and it was better to persuade him to quit directly. "The risk will be very high. Can any of you help him make a decision?"

The latter seemed not to understand what he meant, nodded his thanks, and continued to turn to the monks and explained: "I will make pre-operative preparations first to avoid wasting time. You'd better make a decision before I come back. After all, I can do it at any time. Here, the injury waits for no one."

The conditions for this meeting couldn't be more coincidental. Others may not know, but for those who know, it is difficult to accept that a case that can be saved worsens step by step.

"Lecturer Wilen, if you can, help us pack up the tools. Coop, take this moment to wash his head, don't shake it too hard."

…

…

In less than ten minutes, Kraft, who had picked up the necessary tools from the warehouse next door, returned to the room.

"How about it?"

"Professor, I apologize in advance for any offence. How many cases of this kind of head-opening treatment have you performed before?"

This question is difficult to answer. Frankly speaking, this is the first time here, but it is not easy for the monks to consider accepting it. If you tell the truth, it will definitely not make people feel at ease.

"Since my grandfather's generation, our family has begun to explore the mind. We have a relatively advanced understanding of the skull structure and have quite a lot of practical experience."

"What we have to do now is just clean up the congestion between the bone plate and the membrane below, but we are far from touching the inside."

Except for Kupp, who really knew a little about the Kraft family, everyone present showed their understanding - it turned out that they were from a medical family, and it was reasonable to cultivate such a person.

After some internal discussion, the monks quickly reached a consensus.

As people who have been active on the front line for a long time, they have a good understanding of the dangers of this kind of injury.

Perhaps it was because the experience of fighting the enemy together had gained some recognition, or because the person Green was looking for had a credit bonus, the balance gradually tilted towards the side Kraft wanted to see.

"Leaving destiny to Heavenly Father does not mean giving up human efforts." One of the monks stood up and gave the answer on behalf of everyone, "But we hope to watch."

"Okay, I just need someone to help fix him." Kraft picked up the first set of tools he would use today, which was not surgical equipment, but standard barber supplies.

To clear the surgical area, a large area of ​​hair centered on the intended incision is completely shaved off, creating a large clearing on the top of the head where the hair is thick.

Hopefully this guy won’t be worried about his image for a while after he wakes up. However, Mediterranean hairstyles are already popular among middle-aged clergymen, so you can comfort him that this is just a step ahead of the inevitable future.

"The next scene will be special. Since you have agreed to the treatment, I hope you can hold him down without causing any interference. Being biased here is not a trivial matter at all."

It's true, everyone can understand it. What he does with his hands is less reassuring.

None of the monks present would show mercy on the battlefield. But there are two completely different things between sending your opponent to see the Father with your hands and dropping the knife, and watching someone slowly and steadily cut open the skin flap and peel it off the skull.

"Hold it, don't move it." Kraft clamped the raised skin flap with a toothed hemostat and handed it to Coop to fix it. "Give me the thick needle."

Wiping away the accumulated blood with cotton cloth, the vision was clear for a few seconds, but the red color was still seeping out slowly. He took the thick steel needle from Viren, burned it on the flame and touched the small bleeding spots on the edge.

After a slight sizzling sound, the bleeding stopped, and the red was wiped away, exposing the white curved surface below.

You don't need to look up to know that the patient's colleague must have a very ugly look on his face, and may even begin to regret it.

"Now is the real difficulty. Don't shake the hand that is pressing your head."

It turns out that psychological construction is prescient. The field did begin to falter when Kraft picked up a small chisel from the tray.

This is something similar to a chisel, with a sharp head. It is used in the same way as a carpenter's chisel. You use a hammer to hit the end to make a hole. If you don't have a bone drill, you have to rely on it.

The metal pressed against the skull, making a crisp and untimely knocking sound as the hammer fell, leaving a shallow mark. It's a bit like a large wooden fish with a dull tone.

A series of shallow marks form a triangle that gradually penetrates into the skull. During the carving process, red and white foam is produced, which needs to be cleaned repeatedly. The progress is not very optimistic, but this is definitely not a job that can be done quickly.

The surgery requires cutting off an exact piece of skull and opening a triangular bone window to provide space for decompression and clearance. If it is shallow, it cannot be removed at all, and the deeper it is, the more careful you must be to prevent direct penetration by a certain falling weight.

This requires considerable control and keen awareness. Every stroke makes people's hearts tremble and unconsciously brings pressure to the operator.

Viren felt his palms sweating, which was completely different from trying to drill holes into his skull to treat "evil spirits entering the brain."

"tweezers."

He quickly picked out the tweezers and handed them to the outstretched hand. He watched as Kraft clamped the corner of the triangle that had a clear boundary with the surroundings, carefully and steadily lifted it up, and put it aside.

The lights gathered here illuminated the situation below, and black and red things filled the field of vision. Seen more than once in the past, but only on dead people.

The monk responsible for fixing the head witnessed a slender pliers protruding into the skull and suppressed the urge to let go.

You can also feel the patient's somewhat disordered breath flowing through the fingertips, while the doctor is pinching something out of the window of the skull. It was a streak of blood, half-solidified to the texture of fermented dairy products, and more had accumulated inside the incision.

This step did not cause too much difficulty. After clearing out the black and red clots that had spread lightly on the bottom of the plate, the skin flap was sewn back into place and cleaned and bandaged.

The patient appeared normal except for the loss of hair and the extra dog-ear suture.

The monk took a deep breath and noticed a small white triangular object that seemed to be forgotten next to him.

"Don't you need to put it back?"

"No need, keep it as a souvenir when he wakes up." Kraft washed the blood off his hands and began to prepare for the next game. He wanted to find out what happened to the attacker.

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