Chapter 372 Wash your lungs! Wash your lungs! Wash my lungs!
"What? Master Tarbot?"
Grete jumped up, and was immediately grabbed by Gavin, and flew out. Archmage Serrano glanced at Master Hemond, and the medical magician nodded, and followed slowly.
:
Halfly for Master Tarbot. Everyone has been here all the way. Even if the mission is over just to deliver the person to the destination, we still hope that the old dwarf will be well. Not to mention, with this master here, he can help the magic
There can also be one more person speaking in Parliament;
Partly for Gretel. Serrano has learned a lot about this little mage's ability to escape. He can do something unexpected anytime and anywhere. Now that Master Tarbot is critically ill, Serrano is really afraid of what he will do if he makes an impulse.
High-risk move——
For example, wash the old man's lungs or something?
Having someone watching makes me feel more at ease.
Wizard Hemond followed Gretel - the tracking spell on his body, threw himself an acceleration spell, and rushed to the old dwarf's residence without speeding up. The room was already in a mess, with people shouting, running, and trying to wake him up.
The old dwarf, the one who called the priest at the top of his voice...
In the chaos, Grete rushed in and rushed to the old man's bedside. He threw a [Distinguish Bloodline·Change] on it and immediately ordered the old dwarf to be given high-flow oxygen. Improve the efficiency of the oxygen concentrator, improve the purity of oxygen, and improve
Oxygen supply speed——
Just kidding, the color of the light screen fed back by the newly developed blood oxygen identification magic tends to be dark red! Any darker, it would be the color of venous blood!
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Let him take oxygen!" Gretel's urgent voice immediately suppressed the entire audience. The whole room heard him shout alone:
"Bernard, shake it faster! Shake it faster!"
"...What is this for? If we don't release the healing spell immediately, why would we let people shake the poles and blow the bellows?"
In the crowd, a snow-white-haired dwarf priest frowned and asked. He was old, and the skin on his arms was as wrinkled as Master Talbot. Even when he asked questions, his voice was gentle and slow. His healing skills did not stop for a moment as he spoke.
Gentle white light shot out from the head of the war hammer, wave after wave, gently sweeping over Master Talbot.
Grete was busy adjusting the oxygen tube - no, spawning vines, and didn't bother to answer. Instead, Vigeland, Master Tarbot's disciple who had escorted him all the way back, stood by and explained to him:
"The teacher felt uncomfortable along the way, and he only recovered by breathing in this gas."
The old priest hummed and stopped talking. Master Ximond also retracted his steps and stopped rushing into the crowd:
...Sure enough, it was right to come and take a look. The little guy rushed forward and presided over the rescue, no matter whether he could be saved or not, no matter how many high-level priests were at the scene, no matter how shocking the method was - just like rescuing an orc.
That time, if I disagreed, I would have my heart cut open...
If Gretel hears his voice, he will definitely retort: Of course he must preside over the rescue! In terms of treatment skills, he may be beaten by high-ranking priests; in terms of rescuing critically ill patients, he can definitely stand up and say: I am the one who
Be professional!
...In fact, some professionals go too far. For example, when it comes to oxygen inhalation, the correct instruction should be "increase the oxygen flow rate, use a mask to inhale oxygen, and the oxygen flow rate is 10 liters/minute..."
However, no one at the scene understood his instructions. Gretel could only look at the size of the air pump, listen to the hissing sound in the hollow vines, and kept shouting:
"Gavin, follow my command and pull the bellows! Pull! Push! Pull! Push! Pull! Push!"
... He is very resentful. What he needs now is an anesthesiologist, an anesthesiologist in the modern sense, not a priest who can only throw out painkilling magic. Gretel silently cursed, his eyes and hands, non-stop.
The surgeon is in charge of the disease, and the anesthesiologist is in charge of life. Such tasks as adjusting oxygen flow, oxygen concentration, temperature and humidity are obviously the responsibility of the anesthesiologist!
Fortunately, the handling of high-flow oxygen inhalation was very correct. After some tossing, Master Tarbot finally recovered and half leaned on the bed to breathe. Gretel was able to stop and wiped his sweat:
"We are out of danger for the time being... Tonight, don't let Master lie flat, half-recline, and maintain low-flow oxygen intake... This is the set of oxygen-generating equipment, keep it on and don't stop it. Don't be tired these days, don't smoke, keep it up
The mood is stable... Others in the room are not allowed to smoke. It is best not to light a fire in the room, but keep warm..."
He rattled off the doctor's instructions one by one, fearing that missing any of them would worsen his condition. It took him a long time to finish the instructions, and then he took a long breath:
"There is nothing else to pay attention to. You take good care of Master, I'm leaving..."
"Gretel!" Gavin rushed forward and grabbed him:
"Is there no other way? Grandpa, grandpa, besides being careful all the time, is there no other way to cure it?"
Grete shook his head silently. Pneumoconiosis is irreversible, especially in the late stage, when the lungs are extensively fibrosed and infected. Basically, the only path is to collapse and wait for death. - At least, that was the way it was in his previous life.
And here, if divine magic was effective against pneumoconiosis, there wouldn't be so many dwarves afflicted by the disease. To say the least, Master Tarbot is also a level 13 priest, so it's not necessarily true that he can't even cure himself.
Gavin dropped his shoulders in disappointment. However, Vigeland stretched out his arms, stopped Gretel, and looked at him eagerly:
"What about the ones you've been researching recently? What about... lung cleaning? Can it be used now?"
"cannot!"
"Can't!"
Two voices answered at the same time. One was Gretel and the other was Master Shimond. As the mage answered, he squeezed into the crowd and reached out to hold Gretel:
"That technology would even choke animals to death, so it can't be used on humans!"
"But... Gretel has fed 20 rabbits in the past few days, and none of them have died!"
The little guy didn't tell anyone anything, and couldn't even keep up with the pace of blocking things for him. Master Ximond cursed secretly, and was about to refute again, when a majestic voice suddenly sounded from the corner of the crowd:
"What is lung cleansing? Will it help?"
The dwarves instantly separated to both sides. Master Hemond looked along the empty space and could only let go of Gretel and bowed his head in greeting:
"Your Majesty the King."
"Your Majesty the King." Grete followed and saluted. He then raised his head and explained seriously:
"The method of washing the lungs is to pour clean salt water into the lungs and then pump it out to bring out the dust in the lungs. This technique is very dangerous and may cause people to choke to death. - Moreover, Master Tarbert
He is too old and physically weak. He will not be able to withstand this method and will die!"
He explained in detail as much as possible, trying to dispel the dwarves' thoughts - originally, Master Tarbot was too old and had a lot of contraindications, so he would never be able to perform this kind of surgery. Unexpectedly, after the king listened carefully, he smiled and said:
"So, your method is used to help us expel dust from our lungs and restore health?"
"Yes, it is……"
"So, what do you think of me? Can you do it on me?"