Chapter 257

Chapter 257

What?

Make vitamin C?

Garrett was dumbfounded.

How difficult is it to confirm that scurvy is due to a lack of vitamin C and then produce it? Simply put, this achievement is worth two Nobel Prizes.

In 1937, Hungarian biochemist Szent-Gyorgyi won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for his research on vitamin C and oxidative reactions in the human body.

That same year, British scientist Haworth, for determining the chemical structure of vitamin C and synthesizing it artificially, won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

Archmage Carlisle, you’re overestimating me T_T If I had the ability to make vitamin C barehanded, I wouldn’t have struggled for over a decade in my past life and ended up just a deputy chief physician!

My highest degree is only a master’s!

I specialize in clinical medicine, not pharmacy!

By the way, what is the industrial process for extracting vitamin C... This isn’t something I forgot, it’s something I never learned...

Garrett descended from Igor Peak feeling depressed. Thinking about needing to overcome the hurdle of two Nobel Prizes to complete the task left him feeling powerless, not even wanting to enter the laboratory. Seriously, is it really necessary to create a magic potion to solve a problem that could easily be addressed with a lemon every day?

So annoying... Should I just write a paper on using lemon juice for treatment and toss it to the Alchemy Guild to figure out how to turn it into medicine...

Feeling unhappy, Garrett summoned his mount and rode aimlessly. The horse summoned by magic was more intelligent and obedient than those in the natural world; even if the master didn’t control it, it wouldn’t startle and run amok or trample people. Garrett rode his horse absentmindedly, the horse moving freely. Before he knew it, a fishy smell hit him.

Coming to his senses, Garrett lifted his head and realized he had arrived at the harbor district. Since he was already here, he decided to visit the clinic—thinking so, Garrett turned his horse and soon arrived at the clinic run by the Nature God’s congregation.

"Brother Matthew!"

For example, the dosage of daffodil alkaloids for adults is 0.5 to 1 milligram every 1 to 2 hours, not exceeding 6 milligrams per day. Too little dosage is ineffective, too much can be poisonous. So, how do you ensure the accuracy of the dosage?

Control the source of daffodils? How was the weather this year, sunshine, rainfall, fertilizers; how well did the daffodils grow? Use only bulbs, not leaves, or only certain parts of the bulbs?

Such control methods may be accurate to 0.1 or 0.01 grams. However, to be precise to milligrams or even micrograms, to ensure that each dosage of medication is consistently stable and uniform, is impossible!

And what about medicines with even smaller single doses? Like fentanyl, used for anesthesia induction, with a dosage of 0.05 to 0.1 milligrams...

Not to mention, the impurity content in medicinal plant extracts is too high. The simplest example, the active ingredient of aspirin, salicylic acid, everyone knows can be obtained by boiling willow bark. But how many components are there in willow bark tea?

Amino acids, sugars, organic acids, glycosides, phenols...

Dozens are the minimum. Trying to extract salicylic acid from this mixture, removing ineffective or harmful components—haha, it’ll make you cry.

That’s why, after modern chemistry emerged, we have modern anesthesiology. If it were ancient times, using various herbs like datura, mandrake, and jimsonweed, mixing and refining them to give to patients would be gambling with lives. If the raw material fluctuates even slightly, anesthesia could become an overdose, and the patient wouldn’t wake up...

Only by relying on chemistry, only by extracting and refining through chemical means, can medication content be measured, can drugs be of high purity, uniform in nature, and stable, becoming reliable helpers for doctors!

These are all principles that were once studied...

"Brother Matthew, thank you." Garrett sincerely expressed his gratitude. Without waiting for Brother Matthew to ask, Garrett had already rushed out of the clinic like a whirlwind and summoned his mount again. Riding through the streets for a few rounds, he stopped at a fruit stall:

"How much are these oranges? And lemons?—I’ll take them all, deliver them for me!"

A cart of oranges, a basket of lemons, a cart of cabbage, and seven or eight other

varieties of vegetables were gradually dragged into Garrett’s villa. The cook wiped her hands on her apron in astonishment:

"Mr. Nordmark, are you... Are you hosting a banquet?"

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