A Hospital in Another World?

"Mage Simond, what exactly is wrong with that boy? Can he be cured completely?"

Mage Simond curiously questioned Garrett, who lay listlessly in the wagon, barely opening his eyes to look at him, not wanting to utter a single word. Simond didn’t take it as rudeness—Garrett’s exhaustion was evident to all.

If asked, Garrett would surely say: Of course, the total length of the human intestinal tract is about four times one’s height. For that little barbarian, the vine traveled about five or six meters inside him, inch by inch!

To advance the vine, to control the direction of the light source and the Arcane Eye, to manage the cutting location and depth... this was no simple endoscope from his previous life. Every movement of the vine, even its very presence, relied on his mental strength!

For several hours, he stared unblinkingly at the light screen, his concentration unwavering. By the end of the treatment, Garrett was nearly drained of his mental energy.

Seeing Garrett’s pale face, unable to even stand, shopkeeper Borlu hastily offered a wagon as compensation and sent a clerk to drive him to his next lodging. Firstly, as an escort; secondly, to request the next innkeeper to take care of him; and thirdly...

Thirdly, of course, was to boast/remind the next place that their group had a divine healer who could cure diseases others couldn’t, and for not much money!

Barbarians being tall and leggy, the wagon was exceptionally spacious, its wheels reaching Garrett’s chest. He had heard the cruel saying "those taller than the wheel shall be killed" and now seeing such large wheels, a thought spontaneously arose:

Children taller than the wheels must already have memories, and grudges, too...

Such a large wagon could easily fit a barbarian family inside. Mage Simond then shamelessly climbed aboard, under the pretense of taking care of Garrett, seeking an opportunity to chat. Seeing Garrett silently watching him, he sighed and waved his hand outside:

"I’ve already blocked out the sound, no one outside can hear. Please, tell me, come on, I’ll trade this Arcane Eye ring for the information!"

Garrett barely opened his eyes to look. Simond was shaking an extravagantly designed ring on his finger, topped with a tourmaline—perhaps a cat’s eye? After shaking it up, down, left, and right, the arc light across the gemstone swept from left to right, as if opening a pair of eyes.

Then, a semi-transparent Arcane Eye floated up...

"Ah, no need. This disease is very rare, hard to come across normally," Garrett weakly turned on his pillow. He really wanted that ring—with it, he wouldn’t need to seek the Archmage’s favor for endoscopies—but, this bit of knowledge wasn’t worth a magic item!

Especially since the disease’s incidence rate is between one in eight thousand and one in two hundred thousand. After satisfying Mage Simond’s curiosity, he might never encounter it in his lifetime...

"This disease is called Peutz-Jeghers syndrome, also known as pigmented polyp syndrome," Garrett swallowed the term "P-J syndrome" and went straight to the point:

"It’s a genetic disease, meaning if either the father or mother has it, the child will too, and so will the grandchildren. The main characteristic is the appearance of a large number of polyps throughout the digestive tract—that is, the stomach, small intestine, large intestine, rectum, with ’a large number’ meaning more than 100."

Mage Simond gasped. Watching Garrett’s treatment and seeing a basin of tumors cut out was shocking enough; hearing this number was even more horrifying. 100 polyps! How long can a person’s intestines be, to grow 100 tumors and still live well?

"You can tell he has tumors in his stomach just by looking?"

"Roughly," Garrett nodded sleepily:

"This disease has a distinct feature: many dark spots, possibly brownish-yellow, around the lips, on the palms, toes, or fingers. Due to the numerous and widespread polyps, it’s impossible to surgically cure completely; they can only be removed bit by bit..." ř�

His voice faded. Mage Simond kindly comforted him:

"It’s okay, removing them is good enough. Didn’t you cure the boy..."

"It won’t be okay. They will grow back in a few years," Garrett said somberly. In his previous life, he treated a patient with P-J syndrome and later researched the prognosis. What he found was a study on Peutz-Jeghers syndrome post-operative follow-up, showing a 46.1% recurrence rate of polyps within a year, and a 100% recurrence rate within five years.

"Moreover, these polyps can become malignant tumors, slowly consuming his life

in the intestines and other organs. Generally, by their thirties, it can progress to this stage..."

Another paper summarizing 240 cases indicated a 24.2% probability of malignant transformation, with the average age of malignant diagnosis being 33.

"In their thirties?" Mage Simond laughed:

"Garrett, do you think these barbarians can live to 40? When they’re a bit older, they go hunting, whaling, catching seals, sea lions, walruses, or becoming mercenaries for money. Less than half of them live to 30 safely!"

Garrett finally felt a bit better. Indeed, can societies with an average lifespan of 70 and 40 years be the same? At least, the former’s cancer incidence rate is definitely far higher than the latter’s...

He buried himself in sleep on the wagon, waking up with his mental strength finally recovered to fifty or sixty percent. Jumping off the wagon, he realized it was already dark, and the group was busily preparing to settle in. Seeing Garrett alight, a crowd quickly surrounded him:

"Master Mage, could you please look at my mother?"

"Master Mage, my son always grinds his teeth in his sleep, and it never gets better..."

"Master Mage, there’s a lump on my neck..."

Garrett: "..."

What’s going on?

What happened?

I’m not opposed to treating...but can you please form a line first?

"What are you all doing! Disperse! Disperse! The Master Mage hasn’t even eaten yet! What’s with all the noise!"

Thankfully, the innkeeper came out to rescue him. Men and women, tall and short, barbarians, dwarfs, and ordinary humans scattered like birds and beasts. Seeing their suddenly dim expressions, Garrett felt somewhat guilty:

"Uh...let’s talk after I’ve eaten..."

Fortunately, no complex diseases were encountered that night. Garrett performed healing spells, surgery, dispensed medicines, and provided treatment advice, completing everything in just an hour. As for the medical fees...

"You’re giving me a live sheep?"

"..."

"No? Then two live rabbits will do... After all, rabbits are smaller, easier to kill..."

"Would a live deer work? We just ran out of sheep..."

So, the next day, Garrett found himself on the wagon, preoccupied with the live deer. The barbarian driver was replaced by a local clerk, sent directly to the next lodging spot by the local shopkeeper. Meanwhile, Bernard sat opposite him in the wagon, extending his hands...

"Bernard, help me hold its head down! Don’t let it move! Pry its mouth open!"

"What are you doing now?" Mage Simond once again poked his head in to see the novelty:

"Why are you fussing with this deer? Perfectly fine, why insert vines into its nostrils?"

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