"Come to the gin bar with a little water, the cold wind on the winter night is still quite cold, and I see your faces are red from the cold."

In the intimate reception room on the second floor, Arthur pushed two glasses of amber gin to the two uninvited strangers, and immediately lit his pipe and leaned back on the sofa.

"Thank you."

After thanking the guest, he raised his glass with his frozen fingers, and motioned for the young man who had come with him to come with him.

"John, come a little too."

After getting the master's approval, the young man took a sip of wine and drank it in small sips.

When Arthur saw this, he just smiled and asked, "Your name is John?" ”

"Hmm." The boy nodded, "John Snow, this is my name." ”

"Snow, Snow?" Arthur smiled and said, "Ling's surname is quite compatible with winter." Let me guess, you can't be Scottish, right? Most of the snowflakes in Britain are concentrated there. ”

The young man was emboldened for a moment when he saw that the great man was so accommodating, and he replied, "Sir, I am from York. Do you know York? We have snow there in the winter, too. ”

"Oh, another Yorker."

Arthur smiled: "There are really a lot of Yorkers in Liverpool, maybe it's because it's too close to Liverpool." Truth be told, you're already the second fellow countryman I've met here. ”

Snow was also a little surprised when he heard this, and he said, "Are you also Yorker?" ”

"That's right." Arthur smiled and nodded, "Not only that, but I used to be a good keeper of Yorkshire pigs." If I hadn't gone to school in London, I would have become the best pig farmer in the area, even though I'm not bad now. Then again, have you ever raised a Yorkshire pig? ”

Snow shook his head and said, "I haven't raised it, but I've seen a lot." I used to want to be a swineherd, but my father thought that being a swineherd was as unpromising as he was a miner. So I was introduced to Mr. Hardcastle as an apprentice pharmacist. ”

"Apothecary apprentice?" When Arthur heard this, he turned his gaze to the middle-aged gentleman on the side: "So you are Mr. Hardcastle?" ”

The middle-aged man held out his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hastings. William Hardcastle, Surgeon and Pharmacist admitted by the Royal College of Surgeons. ”

Although Arthur knew that many industries in Britain were still dominated by apprenticeships, he was surprised that doctors did the same.

Although he didn't know many doctors, most of them had a serious university education.

These doctors, even if they do not graduate from prestigious universities such as the University of Edinburgh or the University of Glasgow, have at least two to three years of training at a medical college.

However, the doctor appeared with an apprentice of seventeen or eighteen years old at the beginning, which inevitably made Arthur doubt his professionalism.

Arthur confided his doubts in his heart, and Hardcastle did not hide them when he heard it.

He spoke, "Mr. Hastings, it seems that you don't know much about the profession of doctors. In fact, for most doctors, they go through an eight-year apprenticeship as a teenager. During these 8 years, they will learn various pharmacy knowledge from the veteran doctors and master the basic pharmacology knowledge in the process of assisting the doctors.

At the end of their eight-year apprenticeship, they enter a medical college for a higher level of study, and then choose one of the Royal College of Physicians or the Royal College of Surgeons to be assessed according to their field of study. Only after passing this assessment can they truly have the qualifications to practice medicine on their own.

The kind of doctors you have met before who go to university at the beginning are basically wealthy young people, and their development paths are completely different from those of us who are really fighting on the front line. They control the academic community, and we are at the forefront of the clinics and hospitals.

Of course, I'm not saying this to accuse them of anything wrong. However, in terms of the experience of curing diseases and saving people, the two are not at the same level at all. ”

Although Hardcastle had no intention of making accusations, even a deaf man could tell from his indignant expression how disgusted this gentleman was with some of his peers.

But Arthur wasn't incomprehensible to him.

According to Hadcastle, a low-level doctor needs at least eight years of apprenticeship and two to three years of junior college training to be able to practice medicine on his own, while those from well-to-do families only need to go through three to four years of university study.

However, although the training period of low-level doctors is longer, they are discriminated against because of their educational background in vocational schools. Medical students who graduated from prestigious universities such as Edinburgh and Glasgow are more valued than these low-level doctors.

Whether it's publishing in a medical journal or joining a variety of well-known hospitals, their sequence always has to be behind others.

Whoever comes here has to be angry.

As one of the victims of academic discrimination, Mr. Hastings, an outstanding graduate of the University of London, was usually caused by the intermittent slumping of the Scotland Yard line.

Why can a second-class degree from Cambridge Oxford go to work in large enterprises such as the East India Company and the West India Company, and enter high-end departments such as the General Customs Administration and the General Post Office to dedicate themselves, while the gold medal of the University of London can only play with Irish hooligans on the streets of the East End?

In the same vein, the jewel of the Department of Classics at the University of London, Mr. Eld Carter, 'sings' to Cambridge and Oxford every day.

As soon as Arthur saw Hardcastle, he seemed to see himself two years ago, and he nodded sympathetically, "Sir, you don't have to be angry. If not, when the time comes, people cannot always be unlucky. While British tradition dictates the country's old-fashioned stubbornness, not everyone standing at the bottom of the river will drown in this cesspool. As long as you can be reasonable, show your value and correctness, and find an investor who is willing to gamble, things will get better. ”

Hardcastle's eyes brightened a little when he heard this.

He waited for so many years just to wait for a chance to turn over, but when he showed his proud discovery to everyone, it was not flowers and applause, but cold eyes and closed doors.

As Arthur said, he urgently needs an ambitious investor right now.

Mr. Hastings, Liverpool's Special Anti-Smuggling Ombudsman, who was appointed by the four departments, was a very suitable candidate.

It was as if he had grasped a life-saving straw and confided in all his suffering.

"Mr. Hastings, I know what your mission is in Liverpool and you know what your mission is? We're all here to quell the cholera epidemic in Liverpool. I don't know if it's more important to meet the public perception or to achieve results in your work, but I think in the doctor's business, as long as the patient recovers, it's better than anything else. ”

When Arthur heard this, the red light of his pipe flashed and stopped: "Sir, if I am not mistaken, you are saying that you have a cure for cholera?" ”

Hearing this, Hardcastle hurriedly waved his hand: "No, no, Mr. Hastings, although I would love to tell you that I can cure cholera, my professional ethics do not allow me to do so. But...... Although I can't guarantee that all patients will recover, I can guarantee that I will be able to significantly reduce the mortality rate from cholera if I follow my method. ”

Arthur couldn't help but straighten up a little when he heard this: "What did you say?" ”

Seeing that Arthur was interested, Hardcastle hurriedly beckoned to the students beside him, "Snow, take out the report." ”

Snow took a document from his small cloth bag and placed it on the table.

"Actually, I've been investigating this disease since before the cholera outbreak began," said Hadcastle, flipping through the papers. My teacher was Mr. Corbyn, who served as a military doctor in Mumbai in his early years, and was involved in many cases of treating cholera patients.

He warned the doctors of Britain early on: 'Never satisfy the persistent and miserable demands of the sick for drinking water, for I have seen many of them die from it.' And this is basically the consensus of doctors who have been practicing medicine in India.

In my treatment of patients, I have always followed his teachings. But on top of that, I also found a lot of noteworthy things, and this made me start to question my teacher's theory a little. ”

Arthur asked, "What did you find?" ”

"I have a cholera patient who fainted from exhaustion before he was taken to the hospital, and his arm was cut open by a stone on the side of the road. However, when he was brought to me, I noticed that the blood coming out of his wound was very different from that of the average person. His blood was black and thick, which was caused by an extreme lack of water in his body.

Due to his critical condition, it was impossible for me to continue to follow my teacher's controlled drinking therapy, because an article published by Professor Herman last year speculated that the immediate cause of the patient's death was the result of the blood becoming thicker and unable to circulate.

However, if he is fed pure water, it will definitely exacerbate his diarrhea. In order to solve this problem, I went through the recent research articles on cholera treatment. One of them was Mr. O'Shaughnessey's research on Newcastle patients that caught my attention.

Through laboratory analysis, he found that the patient's blood had lost a large amount of water and neutral salts, but the missing elements in the blood had been found to be in excess in the stool. Obviously, this result also confirms Professor Herman's view that the crux of prostration and death is the obstruction of blood circulation due to the loss of body fluids.

At that time, I wondered if we could bring a certain high oxygen salt into full contact with the black blood of a cholera patient, and whether it would restore the patient's arterial properties and eventually stop the severe symptoms of the patient. In order to accomplish this idea, the first two routes that came to my mind were enemas and intravenous injections. ”

"Genius idea!"

When Arthur heard this, his eyes couldn't help but light up, and when he heard such a detailed and professional explanation from Hardcastle, he seemed to have a modern mindset and slowly figured out the diagnosis and treatment of cholera.

He grabbed Hardcastle's hand and asked, "Go on." ”

Seeing that Arthur's reaction was so strong, Hardcastle was also a little excited for a while.

He began: "I first prepared a solution containing potassium chloride, carbonate and soda to treat the patient with an enema, but because the patient's intestinal absorption function has been disordered, he cannot absorb the salt normally, which aggravates his diarrhea symptoms. So, I started trying intravenous salt supplementation again. ”

Arthur asked, "What was the result?" ”

"The patient was terminally ill, prostrate, had a weak pulse, and was extremely thirsty, but after four consecutive infusions of 200 ounces of salt on him, he gradually woke up from his coma, and his symptoms improved significantly, and he eventually recovered!" ”

Arthur couldn't help but get up happily when he heard this, and pressed his hands on the other party's shoulders: "Mr. Hadcastle, you really didn't disappoint me!" I assure you that this treatment of yours will ...... soon."

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, he heard a snap, and the door of the reception room was suddenly pushed open.

"Hardcastle! I knew it was you! Have you had enough of the executioners who conduct medical experiments on patients? I warn you, if you don't reflect on your actions, when the cholera is over, I will go to the Royal College of Surgeons in Westminster and apply for your medical qualification to be banned! ”

Arthur turned his head to see an angry old gentleman standing outside the door, who walked up to Hardcastle in three or two steps, raised his cane and tried to hit the other man.

Not to be outdone, Hardcastle grabbed the other party's cane and glared at each other angrily: "Mr. Rosenberg! It's up to you to reflect! I've argued with you about the feasibility of intravenous injections, but you've not only spoken ill of me, you've swept me away, and you've even withheld the paper I'm going to submit to The Lancet. ”

Rosenberg?

As soon as Arthur heard this surname, he immediately understood the identity of the old man, who was the chairman of the Liverpool Health Committee and the most famous doctor in the area.

Arthur spoke, "Mr. Rosenberg, are all these things that Mr. Hardcastle said just now true?" ”

Rosenberg glared at Hardcastle and said, "Mr. Hastings, don't listen to this guy's nonsense. I withheld his paper and scolded him for being a quack doctor who didn't care about the lives of patients, but this was all for the safety of the public. I'm guessing he's shown you just how advanced his therapy really is, but I can prove to you that it's all a hoax set up by a street clinic doctor! ”

With that, Rosenberg snorted violently, pulled a document from his bosom and threw it on the table.

"Take a good look at this document! This is the report of the Liverpool Health Board's statistics department on cholera patients at the Had Castle Clinic. According to the survey report, of the 56 patients who received saline injections, only 9 made a full recovery.

In other words, these pathological conclusions and the treatments deduced from Hadcastle's mouth have not actually succeeded in curing many patients. His diagnosis and treatment survival rate is completely out of the upper reaches among all doctors in Liverpool, and it is difficult to say that he is even at the middle level. ”

Arthur picked up the document and rolled his eyes, his brow furrowing more and more: "This ......"

According to the report, Rosenberg didn't say anything, and he was telling the truth.

But Arthur couldn't figure out why Hardcastle, who sounded the most like the right answer, would deliver such an ugly result.

Could it be data fraud?

Suspicious of the statistics, Arthur decided to give Hardcastle another chance, asking, "Is this all true?" ”

Hardcastle's face turned red and his fists clenched, and he held back for a long time, and finally chose between honor and conscience that he valued more.

He nodded, "That's right, Mr. Hastings. It's true that my patient's recovery rate is not very high, but would you like to hear my argument? ”

If Hardcastle tells Arthur that the data is false, Arthur will definitely not give him a chance to defend himself after verifying it.

However, Hardcastle directly admitted that his cure rate was not high, but Arthur dispelled his doubts.

Perhaps Hardcastle's approach is not 100% correct, but this doctor should not be subjectively harmful.

Arthur nodded, "Of course." And I'm sure Mr. Rosenberg would be happy to hear your reasons as well. ”

Rosenberg had heard Hardcastle admit the problem and was about to kick him out in a rage, but Arthur spoke, and he could only endure his disgust.

"Okay! Then you can say it. But even if you say it today, it won't change that you are an empiricist quack who experiments with new methods on patients. I have to say, Hardcastle, I'm very disappointed in you! If it weren't for your teacher, Mr. Corbyn, I would have written to the Medical Association to ask for your medical qualification to be revoked after you came to me that day! ”

When Hardcastle decided to break into the ball, he was ready to cut off the way out. He knew that after today, he would either become famous himself, or he would be completely disqualified from practicing medicine. Before he and the authorities of the Liverpool Health Board have to decide who quacks are.

Hardcastle took a deep breath and spoke.

"Mr. Hastings, as I said before. I'm just an ordinary street doctor, and many of my patients come from working-class families. And the workers, as you know, don't want to see a doctor anyway if they're not terminally ill.

Moreover, among the workers, there are many people who have many underlying diseases in addition to cholera, and their bodies are already very weak. I swear to Hippocrates in honor that most of my patients, though not all of them, have improved dramatically since they received IV injections. However, they died of other illnesses during the recovery phase.

If it's a full recovery, then I'm really not doing well enough. But if it were to cure cholera and get them out of a critical state, I would have a 55 percent success rate. ”

Hearing this, Rosenberg angrily rebuked: "Hardcastle, even if you don't take into account the sequelae, the figure of 55 percent is slightly higher than the average cure rate of 45 percent of cholera." Besides, how do you know that a dead patient is dying from other diseases! Do you want me to make this clearer? You deprived of honor and morality, how dare you do such a thing! Do you know who this gentleman standing in front of you really is? I've been speaking for you, trying to save a little dignity and honor for you, but I never expected that you would be so shameless! ”

Arthur didn't know why Rosenberg was so angry, but now he seemed to figure out why.

As a police officer, he knows exactly how to figure out the cause of a patient's death.

Arthur stared at Hardcastle and asked, "You dissected the patient's body?" ”

(End of chapter)