Is an inspiration spell equivalent to a shot of adrenaline?
Then, what does bewitching humans equate to? Hormones? Dopamine?
What about the signature defensive spell of the Enchantment School, mechanizing the mind? Temporarily shutting off all pain, cutting off the pain nerves? No, it’s said that magicians with mechanized minds don’t actually feel pain; they simply don’t care and calmly calculate... So, what’s the principle?
And, the adrenaline injected by the inspiration spell—if that’s really the principle—how do they control the dosage? How about precisely 0.5 milligrams to 1 milligram each time? You know, too much of this stuff can cause cerebral hemorrhage, myocardial ischemia, and arrhythmia!
...Right, the adrenaline generated by the inspiration spell, is it norepinephrine, epinephrine, or isoproterenol? Or did they not distinguish at all, directly stimulating the adrenal gland, "hey, get up and work"?
Garrett’s thoughts flew. For a moment, he really wanted to grab a recipient to check—what was he thinking, of course, just to check the catecholamines in the urine. Unfortunately, now he had no time, no energy, and no corresponding reagents. He could only think about it for a moment, then continue to devote himself to the treatment of patients:
"This patient is allergic to penicillin, this special medicine cannot be used, only divine magic treatment. Intestinal anthrax mainly invades the intestines. If the intestines rupture, bacteria can also proliferate massively in the blood, and toxins might even affect the brain."
Garrett hurriedly explained, bowed to the high-ranking healers present, and quickly walked away. In the hospital, there’s an unwritten rule: unless a patient is about to die and needs to be rushed for rescue, one generally does not run, but walks quickly in small steps.
This is done to avoid causing panic and also to avoid bumping into something, like a cart being pushed around, or a tray of medicines in a nurse’s hand...
Garrett’s legs operated rapidly in alternation, like a racewalker, rushing from one sickbed to another, one ward to another. Along the way, people kept stopping him:
"Sir, the latest batch of test results are out! The batch you requested, inside, the probability of pathogen detection is over 60%!"
These samples for testing were all from the water pipes in building 12, even the main pipeline. Garrett nodded, quickly manipulated [Mage Tricks] to write down a line, and stamped his own secret magic mark:
"The situation is clear now, the entire water supply system is contaminated. Take my note, go to the review committee—now in the ward—and ask them for authorization to thoroughly investigate the upstream water source of this water supply company!"
"Sir, there was a conflict between the patrol team and the relatives of patients in the isolation area! There are already more than ten injured!"
Garrett turned back from the sickbed. With a sweep of his hand, he cut off a piece of bed sheet, leaving behind words in a flourish:
"Let Bernard handle it!... Then go to the emergency management department, ask them to send a few more magicians over, keep casting mass charm on humans back and forth!"
The second apprentice ran off. In less than two minutes, the third apprentice rushed over:
"Sir, there are too many patients, not enough beds!"
"Add beds!" Garrett didn’t even need to think about it, adding beds, a traditional skill of a public tertiary hospital, "In the wards, in the corridors, stack them up! Those who have already been cured by divine magic, throw them all into the isolation area, free up the beds!"
"Sir, many patients have diarrhea in bed, no one to change the bed sheets..."
"..."
Garrett, behind him, two members of the review committee walked slowly, taking in all the conditions of the hospital. As they observed, they discussed in a low voice:
"The little guy is all over the place."
"Such a big hospital, it’s too much for him."
"Right, probably doesn’t have the experience of running such a big organization—A hospital with 1000 beds, it’s simply not possible for him and a few dozen apprentices to sustain..."
"Sir, how many operating rooms should be prepared?"
"...Prepare all of them!"
Garrett gritted his teeth. The operating rooms in the infectious disease hospital were not many. Initially, when planning, he had prepared only eight operating rooms. Mainly considering it would be hard to find people who would perform surgeries, he originally planned to get through this period, then cooperate with the Black Crow Swamp, kidnap a few necromancers who love to perform surgeries...
But now, he had to figure it out himself!
Garrett rushed down from the fifth floor along the stairs, sprinting towards the operating room. The operating room was in a small building opposite the inpatient area, connected by a corridor. Garrett, while running, watched as figures hustled, stretchers constantly being carried out from the wards. By the time he rushed to the outside of the operating area, the corridor outside the operating area had already lined up a long row of stretchers against the wall.
"One, two, three, five... ten... twenty..."
Garrett quickly scanned each one, pressed down, took an X-ray. Board-like abdomen, board-like abdomen, still board-like abdomen... free air under the diaphragm... intestinal dilation...
So many patients, him performing surgery alone, how could it be possible! Even if he performed one operation every twenty minutes, 20 patients would take nearly 7 hours!
Not to mention, there are other patients to take care of...
Now the only hope was these healers... Garrett, while changing clothes, washing hands, tried hard to turn back and greet the War God’s priests and Spring Goddess’s clerics who had come:
"Gentlemen, does anyone know how
to operate? Dare to cut open a patient’s abdomen? Can you tell if the intestines are necrotic?"
The clerics stepped back in unison. Led by Bishop Sullivan, three priests looked at each other, stepping forward:
"Cutting open a patient’s abdomen... if really needed, we dare. But whether we might accidentally kill the patient, that’s hard to say..."
Three. Including Garrett himself, only four. If only there were four more... these apprentices of his, especially the necromancy apprentices, although they followed him for a few autopsies, he was not very confident in their ability to operate on living people...
"Garrett! I’ve brought people!"
Suddenly, a shout lit up from outside the door. Garrett turned his head, only to see Andrew Lynn making his way through the crowd, squeezing in quickly. Behind Andrew Lynn, Edgar, the Archmage, Edgar’s several disciples, lined up, smiling at him.
"Little Garrett, if you’re going to cut open a patient’s abdomen, of course, you have to leave it to us necromancers!"
Garrett was overjoyed.
"Great! I’ll leave it to you then! Three people in a group—a necromancer, a War God’s priest, a Spring Goddess’s cleric, into an operating room!
The War God’s priest casts a calming spell, the necromancer cuts open the patient’s abdominal cavity, the cleric drains the abdominal fluid and waste! I’ll come by one by one to see! Judge which segment of the intestines is necrotic, needs to be removed, where it can be repaired and treated! Then washing and closing the abdomen I’ll leave to you guys!
Let’s get moving! The faster we are, the more patients we can save!"
The Grand Priest of the War God’s Temple watched with interest. Watching the necromancers file in, he waved his hand, looking at his subordinates:
"Listen to him! Let’s go in together!"
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