Not even a 5 out of 5...
Out of the five who came, all five were suffering from phantom pain.
For a moment, I thought the prevalence rate might be 100%, but upon calmly reflecting, that didn't seem to be the case.
'Thinking about it... only those in pain would come, right?'
That makes sense.
In 21st-century Korea, people often visit hospitals for check-ups or even minor ailments.
But this hospital...
Damn...
Would anyone come here if they weren't in pain?
If there's someone who comes to the hospital just for fun, they'd need their head examined.
"Aaaah!"
"Help me!"
Even now, if I weren't speaking, screams would be echoing from all directions.
You might wonder why they don't use anesthesia, but anesthesia is strictly reserved for surgeries here.
We warned them from the start, and Liston later reinforced it.
Someone died because of anesthesia.
I even cited a paper from the 1700s that clearly stated misuse of anesthesia could kill, yet they still recklessly used it...
There were even cases where the surgeon ended up passing out from the anesthesia during the procedure.
Eventually, the director stepped in and established a rule that anesthesia could only be used during surgeries.
Anyway, it's a madhouse...
"Alright, let's move to a quieter place."
I shook off my dark thoughts and took a step forward.
The patients followed me without suspicion.
They had no choice.
I'm Dr. Liston's chief assistant and the mysterious genius doctor from the East who co-invented anesthesia.
*Creak.*
We arrived at Dr. Liston's lab.
Of course, I had permission to use it, but I doubt Liston expected me to use it so freely.
It must have been difficult for everyone, which is understandable.
It was tough for me too, but...
I realized this guy was more absent-minded than I thought, which made it possible.
Right now, he's probably in the middle of a surgery in the square.
It takes an hour just to get there, and he's not doing just one.
Wow...
'Amputating four limbs in the square.'
It's an incredible spectacle, so the director came up with a brilliant plan.
Today, you have to pay an entrance fee to watch.
It's ridiculously cheap, but the idea of paying to watch someone's surgery is mind-blowing.
Anyway, I couldn't waste the time I'd bought, so I quickly seated the patients.
There were tools scattered around, making it hard to find a place to sit, but the patients sat on the floor anyway.
They looked that desperate.
'Well... having a phantom limb hurt.'
In the 21st century, people would understand phantom pain, show concern, and even consider treatment, but this is the uncivilized 19th century.
If you said your amputated arm or leg hurt, people would probably laugh in your face.
They'd tell you to stop talking nonsense.
Honestly, wouldn't it seem that way?
In a world where science isn't advanced enough, and understanding of the brain is almost nonexistent, it's only natural.
"Let's start with your names."
I asked in order, starting from my right.
I vaguely remembered this patient.
He worked at the docks and had been pricked by a rusty nail, leading to tetanus and the amputation of his arm.
Sigh...
Tetanus...
We'll have to do something about that.
"Yes, I'm George."
"Okay, George. Next?"
I continued the introductions and realized I knew all five of them.
I had no idea I'd been involved in so many amputations.
Wow...
Anyway, they all had heartbreaking stories leading to their amputations.
And they were all poor.
The bigger issue was that in this era, London treated human rights worse than dogs, so there was no consideration for the disabled.
These were people already driven to harsh labor due to poverty, now with amputated limbs and phantom pain on top of it.
'Wow... what do we do?'
We had to do something.
Not because we're doctors, but because we're human.
After hearing their stories, Joseph and Alfred's expressions had changed from before.
They're kids who chose to dream of becoming doctors despite other options, so they must have good hearts.
Especially in this era in England, where the wealthy and powerful have plenty of opportunities, it's even more admirable.
"First, let's ask about your symptoms."
"Well... it's a bit strange. I know I don't have a hand, but..."
"Yes, ignore anyone who says it's strange. It's possible. As you've seen, all five of you here have the same symptoms."
"Oh, I see."
"Then let me ask again. What kind of sensations do you feel in that hand?"
"Ah, well... sometimes it itches, and sometimes it hurts... mostly hurts. Even drinking doesn't help much."
"Ah, drinking..."
I wondered what effect alcohol might have on phantom pain.
I wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like it would help.
The frustrating thing was that I had nothing else to offer.
'I'll have to dig through some old literature...'
I remembered that old texts had been surprisingly helpful in discovering painkillers and antibiotics.
The malaria drug was developed based on ancient texts and even won a Nobel Prize.
Back then, I thought, 'I could've done that,' but now I feel like I might actually have a chance.
I'm not sure if the Nobel Prize exists yet, but...
At least I could leave my name in the history books.
"Next?"
I continued the questions.
The answers were similar.
It seemed that way to me, but not to others.
After a while, I stepped out for a break, and Joseph approached me.
He looked quite shocked.
"Pyeong."
"Yeah?"
"Doesn't it seem like they really feel like they have a hand?"
"Yeah, it does."
"Not just 'yeah'! All five of them are saying the same thing."
At first, I thought he was overreacting, but upon reflection, it made sense.
"So, it's not just... no, it's like they really feel like they have a hand. It's both fascinating and terrifying."
"Exactly, senior. I got chills too... it's not like they're hallucinating..."
"With all five saying the same thing... it feels like the pain is real."
"Yeah, that's why they amputated further."
"Ah, I see. Anyway, it's so vivid... it feels like it's not just nerves misfiring."
The two weren't just surprised; they were discussing it in a surprisingly accurate direction.
It made me realize why patient interviews are considered fundamental.
Just by asking the right questions, you can get pretty close to the answer.
I learned that the hard way during my residency.
"So, what's the deal...?"
"Well. It's like they're seeing a phantom. They feel not just a hand, but even fingers. Maybe..."
"Maybe?"
"I don't know."
While I was marveling, they continued their conversation, and when they finally ran out of things to say, they both turned to look at me almost simultaneously.
They were treating me like I was some kind of Doraemon's pocket...
'Well, it's not entirely wrong.'
At least in medicine, I'm practically the Doraemon of this era.
Come to think of it, Doraemon was a 22nd-century robot sent to the 20th century.
And here I am, a 21st-century doctor in the 19th century...
No, wait.
"It's not just seeing phantoms."
About 30 seconds after they started staring at me—around the time they were probably thinking, 'What's up with this guy?'—I finally spoke.
If I dragged it out any longer, it would've gotten weird.
"Huh?"
"What...?"
"They're feeling sensations too."
"Sensations...?"
"What do you mean?"
"They're not just feeling pain, but also itching. They're experiencing tactile sensations."
I threw out the topic.
Would they catch on?
Probably not, but it didn't matter.
"Uh..."
"Hmm..."
Both looked confused.
That was enough.
It meant their existing concepts were being shattered.
Isn't that how progress happens?
I didn't know it before, but now I see it.
You can't just talk your way through it.
You have to break everything...
"They're experiencing multiple sensations simultaneously. This isn't just a nerve misfire."
"Why?"
"Even if there were nerves, they'd only control muscles, right?"
"Ah..."
Of course, I wasn't strong enough to break everything, so I adjusted to their level.
Their concepts were already shattered, so it wasn't too hard.
Open wide, kids, knowledge is coming.
"Where do you think all this is being processed?"
"Uh..."
"The head...?"
"Yes, the head. I think it's a problem with the head."
This wasn't just knowledge; it was knowledge transcending eras.
In a time when the term "neuroscience" didn't even exist, I was about to explain its essence.
"The head?"
"Isn't that a bit out of left field...?"
Maybe it was too much of a leap, but they didn't look at me like I was a witch.
They just looked baffled.
Well, jumping from limbs to the head would do that.
But what could I do?
This was the answer.
"Think about it. It's essentially an illusion, right? No matter how they feel, it's clear they don't have an arm or leg. They're just feeling it. So where is that illusion happening?"
"The arm or leg...?"
"Arms and legs can't think for themselves. Ultimately, isn't it the head creating the illusion? The head is where thinking happens."
"But they know they don't have arms or legs. Isn't that the same head?"
"Ah."
When did we start distinguishing between the unconscious and conscious mind?
Well, it's not exactly that...
'We know that even when we eat, our brains are creating illusions...'
The brain is a surprisingly dumb organ, something that's been known for a long time.
But in this era, there's an odd obsession with rationality, leading to an almost idolized view of the brain.
'Ah. Right. Right!'
Fortunately, I knew a simple way to induce an illusion.
Thanks to my training in the Air Force.
Some military doctors participate in pilot evaluations, and to qualify, they undergo basic flight training.
It's to understand the environment pilots work in, and one thing I experienced was flight illusion.
"Joseph. Spin Alfred around here."
"Huh?"
"Spin him."
"Uh... he doesn't look like he'd enjoy being spun."
"Ah, just spin him!"