Chapter 17 Can Healing Techniques Rely on the Brain?
"Wow - it's a healing technique!"
"Healing skills are really released!"
"Little Gretel, you are great!"
There was a low commotion in the hall. Children of five, six, seven or eight years old, half-grown men, farmers and women were rushing in one by one. Three of Gretel's comrades, spearman Raymond,
The archer Taung and the shield warrior Vali had to hold hands and form a half circle to prevent the audience from crowding into their captain.
The little priest John's face was full of excitement, and the freckles on his face were shining one by one. In contrast, the Roman knight's face was a bit more gloomy——
God's favor can be boasted, but divine magic cannot be faked. If there are real healing techniques released from his hands, then the young man wearing a burlap waistcoat in front of him must at least be favored by the gods.
Priests and priests are at least nominally equal: as Priest Donald said before, "We are all servants of God." Especially if they belong to different gods, no one can control the other.
It is even more impossible for the temple knights to take charge of the priests.
What a pity that rude pariah boy can no longer cause trouble for him...
He slowly retracted the palm holding the sword. Gretel, who had his back turned to him, didn't notice anything and was only immersed in his own thoughts:
Hippocratic Oath.
From ancient Greece to today, generations after generations, tens of millions or even tens of millions of doctors have believed in and followed it for nearly 2,500 years.
Health depends on it, and life depends on it.
Since 1991, Chinese medical students have recited this oath one after another and stepped into the door of medicine. From then on, it is their bounden duty to treat diseases and save people. When encountering a major disaster, they should wear white armor and march forward fearlessly like warriors.
The power of faith accumulated year after year is so powerful——
If possible, if possible, if a trickle of it falls on me, it will be enough for me to gain a foothold in this strange world.
Thank you to Hippocrates, thank you to the senior teachers, thank you to the doctors who have been fighting in the past, present and even in the future...
Gretel's thoughts were wandering. The next moment, he forced himself to come back to his senses and focus on the injured:
The healing skills you finally released must be used on the edge, and must not be wasted!
Abdominal wound sterilization and anti-inflammation!
Achieve the effect of antibiotic flushing! Avoid postoperative infection!
The rectus abdominis is healed, the omentum is healed, the peritoneum and superficial fascia are healed! If there is still a little bit of energy left, let the wounds in other places on the body grow as well as possible...
Uh... So, how do I make this healing technique work well and do what I want it to do?
Gretel has no clue.
If he is a full-time priest, or even a priest apprentice, during the learning process, a mentor will tell him the method at the beginning. How to guide him with his mind, what are the key points that need to be paid attention to, not only teach but also observe, and release the first step by himself.
I have seen this treatment countless times before.
The problem is that Gretel is a complete novice in the field of healing. He is the one who claims to be inspired by the God of Nature...
There's nothing you can do about it, just let it go!
Gretel began to think. He tried his best to recall everything he had seen during the operation and his understanding of human anatomy from many years of clinical experience. Then, bit by bit, he carefully sketched in his mind...
The sacred light flow washed through the abdominal cavity. Wherever it went, Staphylococcus aureus, Escherichia coli, Pseudomonas aeruginosa... all kinds of germs were eliminated one after another (Grete even made up pictures of these bacteria in his mind);
Under the irradiation of white light, platelets gather in large numbers in large and small injuries, blood coagulates, and the wound is sealed;
Just like when the healing potion was poured on, there were dark red rectus abdominis muscles, light white rectus abdominis sheaths, loose omentum, torn mesentery, and abdominal wounds that he had stitched or had not had time to stitch.
, layer by layer, each grows rapidly;
Granulation hyperplasia, blood vessel growth, epithelial cell climbing, and finally, the injured tissue becomes intact again...
Gretel didn't know how useful this kind of brainstorming was. He just closed his eyes and concentrated on thinking. He used solid knowledge and the ability to draw from imagination to describe what was going to happen or should happen in the abdominal cavity.
everything.
Fortunately, every surgeon is a painter, or at least a soul painter. In daily clinical work, he often draws anatomical diagrams to explain to patients. To outline all this in his mind, it is not easy for Grete.
Difficult.
He was concentrating on thinking, and in the eyes of others, he was trying to guide the healing technique. The hall became quiet unconsciously, the soldiers and farmers, you poke me, I poke you, they all stopped whispering, even breathing
The effort was relaxed.
There were only a few children who were ignorant and fearless, laughing and playing. However, they were quickly hugged by the peasant woman's rough hands and covered their mouths with force.
It was quiet all around. Grete could only hear the crackling of torches, and the heavy breathing that was deliberately suppressed from front to back and left and right. In the silence, a long sound suddenly sounded:
"puff--"
This sound was really loud, long, and distinctive. In the hall, the soldiers surrounding Captain Cullen were stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter:
"Hahahaha Captain farted!"
"Captain farted!"
The soldiers laughed and laughed together. Amidst the laughter, Gretel opened his eyes and jumped up excitedly. Just like when he was a resident physician, he performed the first appendicitis operation and heard the patient's first fart:
"Exhausted!"
He clenched his hands into fists, raised them high, and waved vigorously toward the sky. The operation was successful! He is recovering well! His brain surgery—let’s call it brain surgery—seems to be working!
"Uncle Karen, your intestines have grown!"
Captain Cullen was a little stunned. It wasn't until Gretel said it for the second time that he woke up from a dream and still couldn't believe it:
"Okay?"
"alright!"
"Is it ready now?"
"At least you're starting to work! If you pass gas, it means your intestines have resumed peristalsis. Uncle Karen, you can eat!"
"Very good!"
Captain Cullen was excited, the soldiers were excited, and Captain Cullen’s former comrade, the farmer Uncle Edmund, was even more excited than them. As soon as Gretel announced that he could eat, he immediately turned around and greeted:
"Boys! Bring the food quickly! Good wine, good food, big chunks of mutton, all here!"
Khan... don't say a word. Grete jumped up in a hurry to stop him: "No! He can only drink some milk! The most he can drink is porridge! He can't eat anything else!"
"What? Didn't you say it has grown?"
"The newly grown area cannot withstand the torment..."
There were sounds of greetings, obstructions, explanations, and a chaotic mess. In the midst of the noise, the Roman knight crossed his arms and looked at Gretel coldly, his eyes cold.