Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 14

Chapter 14. The shortened task

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:16

* * *

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:16

The blood was pouring weaker than expected, probably because the swollen tissues had blocked some of the vessels. Lena had seen arms and legs torn off, but until now, she had always acted as an assistant - to fetch water, bring a saw, wrap a stump... Matrice always did the main work herself.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:31

Now no one was going to help. And the man howling muffled from under the ropes would die in a few minutes. Bled out. That was Elena's first thought. The second was simple and practical. The problem could be solved without extraordinary effort. She could stitch up the stump, and that would be that. The third thought burned with the realization that this would not help. Santelli had chopped above the main lesion, but not enough, so the rot would move along the limb further, to the thigh. And besides...

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:33

A long time ago, a girl asked an old army doctor. Why amputations were not done by a simple cut-off? With some instruments like a guillotine. She asked quietly, of course, because her mother would not approve of such a question, thinking that her daughter was learning too many "wrong," cruel things from the old man as it was. Grandfather grinned and explained in a conspiratorial whisper that any chopping can cause (and most likely will cause) chipping as well as cracks in the vertical plane of the bone. This is harmful and dangerous and can even lead to death. Therefore, only saw the bone, no other way.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:36

The dark red puddle, meanwhile, grew larger and larger, reaching Santeli's feet. The gangrenous patient was no longer howling but crying softly, very pathetically, childishly. One could only wonder what demons were tormenting his alcohol-soaked mind. Or not alcohol... Wine could not so fill the brain that even with a severed foot the patient did not come to his senses properly. And moonshine and vodka were not drunk here in their pure form.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:41

The brigadier pursed his lips and put the axe behind his belt, pointing the blade back behind his back. Kai smiled for the first time all day, unexpectedly kind. Matrice sighed, without much disappointment, with an "I told you so" look.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:42

In some romantic story, Lena would now experience moments of incredible mental torment, and then an invisible Grandfather would stand over her shoulder and say something encouraging. And the girl would have prevailed, experiencing a catharsis, one might say, rising above herself. It's entirely possible. In fact, if something like this had happened a couple of days earlier, most likely, Lena would have simply dropped her hands, even under the threat of cruel punishment.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:43

But not today.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:44

For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow in the shadows, Ranyan standing silently in the far corner of the barn. He was the same as he had been the day before, after his encounter with the "deceiver". A black cloak, his hair flowing down to his shoulders in black waves. Impenetrable black eyes, with pupils through which death itself stared. And this look, as if it gave the girl strength, strengthened her trembling hands, filling them with abnormal, unnatural strength. She, an alien from another world, cannot kill as deftly as a routine or a "tar" like Shena. But she has different talents. If one person can kill without pity or regret, then another can return life in cold blood just as well.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:51

"Can it?"

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:53

If you don't check, you won't know.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:58

//Mama! - squeaked weak city girl Lena, ready to faint at the sight of the red puddle.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:58

"Damn," said journeyman Hel sincerely, kneeling in front of the bleeding patient.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 17:59

There were many thoughts, but now they obediently lined up like sheep that are supposed to be counted at bedtime.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 18:00

"The trunk," commanded the master imperiously, not looking back at Kai and tucking up her sleeves.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 18:01

Memo: You need leather armbands. Be sure to remember and then write them down. Well-waxed, so they can be wiped down with vodka and saline.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 18:02

The Vietnamese trunk was already standing nearby, and Kai flipped open the lid and slid the trays apart. The swordsman was sad again, but he acted quickly and precisely. The vial of "milk" itself fell into his hand. The patient refused to swallow, so she had to squeeze his nose with one hand, the second to lift his head so he did not choke, and the third ... Anyway, the murky-white liquid did get to its destination, but on the way, Lena spilled half a bottle at once.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 18:12

Memo: you need a pillow under the head, a small one, more like a roller. And also leather, easily washable.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 18:13

"A waste of product," commented Matrice.

Camrad_RIP 09.06.23 в 19:52

"He's twitching and stirring," snapped Hel, not raising her head. "Water! Lots of it. Hot."

Camrad_RIP 09.06.23 в 19:53

The killer dose of opiate (or not... who knows?) worked almost immediately. Now the medic had twenty minutes until he came to his senses. Probably less, even correcting for the overdose. And he can't take it again - his heart will stop.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 12:53

The thought, stray and fast - it is now quite like "The Fastest Knife in the West End,"[1] the main thing is not to repeat his anti-feat with three dead men in one operation.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 12:54

Here's the water. A whole cauldron, hot and steaming. Where did they get it from? Never mind. Kai seems to have decided to act as an assistant, standing next to the big mug, ready to pour on command.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 12:54

Damn, the most important thing!

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 12:55

"Tourniquet, tighten above the knee," Hel ordered, jerking her head toward Matrisa... And the apothecary silently obeyed, quickly and professionally twisting the tourniquet with a wooden stick turnstile.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:26

This is what the lack of practice means. At the critical moment, only what is hammered into your head at the level of reflex works. You don't have the skill to cut off the blood immediately - and you remember it by accident. A couple more minutes and the blood loss would have killed the gangrenous one, so no more tricks would have been needed. Now the rule is to write the time of the tourniquet on your forehead... if anyone here had a watch and a marker.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:28

Note to self: we should invent some kind of clamps for blood vessels. Bulgakov wrote about them in his Notes of a Country Doctor, just in the story about the amputation of a crippled peasant woman's hip. She wishes she could remember what it is and what it looks like... a useless thought, to think about something else.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:29

"Pour!" Hel stretched her arms out to fly away, placing her hands under Kai's mug.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:30

Of course, she should wash her hands with soap and water, but there is no time... nor is there any soap. Another thing she had forgotten about, which must necessarily be put in the chest. And several pieces in separate boxes.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:33

Rinsing her fingers thoroughly under a stream of hot - ouch, almost boiling! - water, Hel frantically considered what to do next and how to do it.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:35

The easiest way is to cut above the knee, there is only one bone there, and it will be easier to saw. But no, it's better not to go to the thigh, the muscles there are too thick, and the femoral artery is in the middle of nowhere. So you have to cut below the knee.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:38

Here are scissors to use, special ones, according to her drawing, with curved and blunted ends so as not to hurt when cutting clothes. They are wildly uncomfortable. Instead of two halves on a screw - something like meat tongs with blades on the inner sides of the staple. It's like a clamp. Only it doesn't grip. It cuts. The pant leg, however, gave way easily. Open gangrene looked and smelled even more gruesome. The stench of stale sauerkraut seemed to make her teeth itch.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:40

That's it. Now she can assess the full extent of the disaster. Oh, how bad it is!

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:51

Treating the future operating field with "dead water," the masteress concentrated on her movements, literally reciting each of them. Everything to ignore the feeling of rotting flesh under her bare fingers. Like lard of a blue-purple color with black flecks, both slippery and hot-dry at the same time. How is this possible all at once? She better not think about it, lest she throws up straight on the patient with Mother Chahar's stewed vegetables.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:53

And then Hel realized with stunning clarity that the classic "patchwork" amputation, where the stump is covered with a piece of skin, she would not be able to do. No way at all. There was no skill, and therefore the flap would have to be literally cut out by eye from a real living person, who would soon regain consciousness. So she'd have to perform a conventional excision, with all the consequences she'd seen before - a cone-shaped scar, protruding bones, easy traumability, high likelihood of sepsis, and most likely death.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 13:54

Hel glanced to the same corner as if hoping to see the ghost of a routier there again. And, of course, there was nothing in the shadows. But the second distraction was a little mind-washing. Something was in her head. Something about acting when the flap for the stump could not be cut, but it had to be done cleanly... Damn it, and after all, Grandpa had gently suggested she go into medicine after school. If she had listened then, now she would have a couple of years under her belt at least theory. God, how it would be useful here normal, orderly knowledge of the basics of the same anatomy...

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:09

Here it is! Hel gently pulled out the memory, like a fish on a thin fishing line, ready to break at any second. There seemed to be a solution, and technically feasible. This, of course, she had never done either, but such a trick was easier to replicate than a flap. If only the gangrenous one had enough leg below the knee because she would have to cut high, well above the lesion.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:12

"Help me," she tossed to Santelli and immediately realized that it was the wrong choice. Asking for such help should have been a different person or at least a different tone.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:14

"What do you need?" The foreman asked briefly and businesslike.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:19

Hel ripped at the pant leg, tearing it almost to her groin. The fabric gave way easily, with a nasty crack. It made the medic imagine the sound of the bone being sawn off, and she bit her lip. For a moment, because she couldn't speak with her lip biting.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:20

"Hands right here," she pointed. "Below the knee, here. And hold on tight."

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:20

Santelli silently obeyed the order. Matrice leaned over the operating field, however, trying not to hang over the heads of the participants and not to obscure the light.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:23

Note: she must have a small magical flashlight. In case she operates in the dark or, like now, when it seems to be light but it wouldn't hurt to illuminate it. These flashlights are expensive, but you have to...

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:24

However, all this will be later.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:25

Hel picked up an amputation knife, the same one that reminded Santeli of a knight's dagger. And then she remembered the name of what she was about to do. "Cone-circle amputation." Well, what a fucking useful and timely knowledge...

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:28

"Now I'm going to make a circular cut down to the bone," she said without raising her head. Not so much to the foreman as to herself, laying out the upcoming action in a series of elements, imagining them one by one in every detail. The blood and mucus began to dry on her fingers, pulling her skin down disgustingly. It was as if she'd been kneading rotten mincemeat for a long time and never washed her hands.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:30

"The skin and muscles will tighten, pull on themselves," Hel continued.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:30

"I know, I saw it," threw in the foreman.

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:31

Just to avoid hitting my finger with my own knife. It seems that people often died from this, even some Bazarov in the nineteenth century...

Camrad_RIP 12.06.23 в 14:31