Seeing that the patient's family did not follow his "advice," the doctor silently muttered to himself: Another fool who's not afraid of death!
"Lady Howard, please move your body slightly! I am about to start the treatnt!" The doctor tried to lower his voice to make himself sound less rude.
It was then that Jero noticed the doctor behind Miss Howard; his chubby face atop a white doctor's coat, with stubble and hawk-like eyes, resembled anything but a gentleman from the rich district, rather more like a butcher from the slums of London, especially with that thing in his hand that looked like a pestle.
Jero scrutinized the plump doctor before him, a hint of distrust flickering in his eyes.
Were 19th-century doctors really reincarnated butchers?
"Sir, please don't look at like that!" The fat doctor said angrily to Jero.
"This is Dr. Jas!" Miss Howard hastily explained to Jero: "He's the most famous doctor in the whole London District!"
"One of the!" The fat doctor... no, it should be Dr. Jas "corrected" Miss Howard's "error," a smile of amusent on his lips, and "humbly" said, "I am also a fellow of the Royal dical Society of Britain, and was once invited by Prince Albert to treat the British Royal Family!"
Jero's expression changed slightly; he didn't expect that in just one year, his cousin had already connected with the British Royal Family.
The royal doctors who treat the British Royal Family are all high-eyed fellows, and the Bonaparte Clan is nothing more than a noble na with less actual wealth than so new bankers.
Could it be that his cousin really took Albert's gold pounds as rumored in the past life?
Now is not the ti to ask if his cousin has hooked up with Queen Victoria; Jero only hopes that his cousin can safely dodge this disaster, as the wealth and hope of the Bonaparte Clan rest on his cousin's shoulders.
"Doctor, I..." Jero was about to say sothing, but Dr. Jas shook his head and signaled with his eyes for Jero to speak outside.
Jero gently released the increasingly emaciated Louis Bonaparte, tornted by illness, and followed Dr. Jas out to talk.
Inside the room, only the tearful Miss Howard and Louis Bonaparte remained.
In the corridor, Dr. Jas lowered his head with a solemn expression and said in a low voice: "You ca just in ti! Any later and you probably wouldn't have seen the patient!"
"Hmm?" Jero showed a lancholy expression and asked softly: "Doctor, is my cousin really beyond saving?"
Dr. Jas shrugged and said: "I've tried my best to extend the patient's life!"
He then sighed and said, "You discovered it too late! If it had been a little earlier, there might have been hope! Britain hasn't experienced cholera for over ten years, the last outbreak being in 1832! Over ten years have made us complacent!"
In the 19th century, cholera virus was often confused with enteritis, and many doctors treated cholera as if it were enteritis, missing the golden period for saving lives.
"How much longer can my cousin hold on?" Jero asked Dr. Jas.
Though he had a thousand reasons not to believe his cousin would fall so quickly, Jero had to accept the reality that his little butterfly's wing flapping had caused his cousin's demise.
"Probably only three to five days, maybe a month. The patient's consciousness is becoming increasingly blurred, and sweating is becoming more severe! He's also feverish!" Dr. Jas replied in an emotionless tone: "Enemas no longer have any effect, and while willow juice can suppress the patient's fever, this condition won't last long either, as that stuff isn't good for the stomach..." [Note 1]
Willow juice? Aspirin?
Jero's expression was first surprised, then understanding.
Both ancient and modern, Eastern and Western dicine have used willow bark boiled in water to reduce fever.
Even though they learned years later that willow bark contains salicylic acid, it didn't hinder their pragmatic approach.
If fever and dehydration can be suppressed, can my cousin's illness be sustained for a while?
"The patient is sweating excessively, surely leading to an imbalance of electrolytes in his body!" Jero muttered to himself, recalling his high school lessons.
"Dr. Jas, can saline be injected intravenously into the patient's body to replenish the missing fluids?" Jero inquired of Dr. Jas.
"Intravenous injection?" Dr. Jas shook his head and said: "The risk is too great for this thod. During the last cholera outbreak, so tried this approach, but only 8 out of 25 cases were cured!"
"There's no other option now, is there?" Jero said helplessly: "Rather than holding onto outdated thods, why not try sothing new? It can't get any worse!"
"True! It can't get any worse!" Dr. Jas examined Jero as if he were seeing sothing rare and said: "Where did you learn about intravenous infusion? Only a few in the dical community know this thod!"
If you lived two hundred years later, you'd know too!
Jero ambiguously replied: "I learned about it while visiting the French Academy of Sciences!"
"Ah, the French Academy of Sciences!" Dr. Jas looked wistful.
If the British Royal dical College is the hall of honor for all doctors in Britain, then the French Academy of Sciences is the hall of honor for all of Europe.
Countless ideas burst forth from the French Academy of Sciences, countless innovations stem from it, and most comndably, it has always maintained an inclusive attitude towards everyone there. (By everyone, I an Europeans and a few Russians!)
The French Academy of Sciences is even more equal and inclusive for the Bianza people.
"Apart from the daily revolts, your France isn't without rits!" Dr. Jas said half-jokingly, half-seriously.
"If everyone were satisfied with life, who would want to be a rebel?" Jero shrugged and replied: "I am sowhat envious of Britain!"
"Envious of what?" Dr. Jas asked curiously.
As a gentleman, he too harbored a love for his country.
"Envious that you Anglo-Saxons can bear and tolerate!" Jero said sarcastically: "If it were in our France, who knows how many revolutions London would have seen!"
PS: 1. Enema was a popular thod for treating cholera in the 19th century.
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