Kiryu Kazusuke casually pulled out the latest copy of Fracture Therapeutics.
He flipped to the copyright page. The publication date was 1993.
Very new.
He quickly skimmed the table of contents and parts of several chapters.
First came the basic theories of orthopedic trauma.
The theories of AO—the Association for the Study of Internal Fixation—had already established dominance in this era.
Rigid fixation, anatomical reduction, and early mobilization: these three major principles were widely accepted.
However, the actual instruments were still very backward.
Strictly speaking, that was not entirely accurate. They were backward only compared to later generations.
Most of the plates introduced in the book were still ordinary dynamic compression plates (DCP) or limited-contact dynamic compression plates (LC-DCP).
As for the locking compression plates (LCP) that would later become widespread, only the concept was mentioned; they were still at the clinical trial stage.
Kiryu Kazusuke picked up another book on arthroscopy.
Atlas of Arthroscopic Surgery.
He opened it and found the clarity of the images truly moving.
At present, arthroscopic technology was still in its infancy.
For example, the anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction described in the book was still using the transtibial tunnel technique.
Although this technique was simple to perform, it was difficult to place the graft at the original anatomical attachment point, resulting in insufficient postoperative rotational stability of the knee.
Moreover, they were still using single-bundle reconstruction.
In later generations, the mainstream had already become anatomic reconstruction, even double-bundle reconstruction.
As for meniscus suturing, they were still using the inside-out technique, which required opening the posterior joint capsule. It was highly invasive and carried considerable risk.
All-inside suture devices?
Sorry, they had not been invented yet.
And arthroscopic surgery for smaller joints such as the shoulder, hip, and wrist was mentioned only in a few exploratory sentences.
This was a blue ocean.
The future of orthopedics would absolutely trend toward minimally invasive procedures.
Right now, everyone was still competing to see whose incision was larger and whose exposure was more complete.
Twenty years later, everyone would be competing to see who could finish an operation through just a few small holes.
And now was precisely the eve of that transition.
Many concepts had already begun to sprout, but limited by the development of materials science and optical technology, they had yet to be realized.
Kiryu Kazusuke walked over to the journal section.
On the shelves were the latest issues of JBJS—the Journal of Bone and Joint Surgery—and CORR—Clinical Orthopaedics and Related Research.
These were all top journals in the field of orthopedics.
He picked one up and flipped through a few pages at random.
Inside was a paper on the treatment of femoral neck fractures, still discussing the advantages and disadvantages of compression screws versus sliding hip screws.
The author used a large amount of data to prove the superiority of a certain surgical method.
But ten years later, all of these discussions would be common knowledge.
However, Kiryu Kazusuke also knew that being half a step ahead made one a genius; being one step ahead made one a madman.
If he were to propose concepts such as 3D-printed bones or surgical robots now, the professor would probably suggest that he go have himself checked at a psychiatric hospital.
He spent the entire day in the bookstore.
Like a sponge, he greedily absorbed the information of this era, comparing and integrating it in his mind with the knowledge of later generations.
……
December 28, Wednesday.
Today was “goyo-osame,” the last working day of the year for government offices and most companies.
In Japan, this was an extremely important point in time.
Starting tomorrow, the entire country would enter a week-long New Year holiday, and would not begin operating again until January 4.
Kiryu Kazusuke walked along the road toward Gunma University Hospital.
The atmosphere on the streets was noticeably more restless than usual.
In front of roadside shops, “kadomatsu” had already been set out—decorations made from pine branches and bamboo, meant to welcome the god of the New Year.
There were also shops hanging “shimenawa,” ropes meant to ward off evil and disaster.
Pedestrians hurried along, most of them carrying New Year’s goods they had prepared, or beautifully wrapped gift boxes.
When he arrived at the hospital, the outpatient hall was packed with people.
Everyone wanted to get enough medicine prescribed before the holiday, or deal with whatever minor ailments they had, so they would not have to run to the emergency department during the New Year and invite bad luck.
“Make way! Please make way!”
A nurse pushed a wheelchair through the crowd, shouting anxiously.
Kiryu Kazusuke avoided the crowd and headed toward the elevators.
When he entered the medical office of the First Department of Surgery, he saw that the office was filled with all kinds of gift boxes.
This was called “oseibo.”
Even though everyone was always crying poor, no one dared to skimp on this kind of face-saving project meant to maintain interpersonal relationships.
Pharmaceutical representatives, medical device companies, affiliated hospitals, and junior doctors hoping to secure good positions in next year’s personnel transfers would all send gifts at this time.
Some contained high-end whisky, some held department store gift certificates, while others were simply stuffed with thick envelopes.
“This one is from Takeda Pharmaceutical. Put it in the professor’s cabinet.”
“This one is from the director of Kawada Hospital. Set it aside separately.”
“These ordinary beers and nori—you guys can split them.”
Mizutani Mitsumasa was directing several residents as they sorted the gifts, his face flushed.
Perhaps ordering the residents around in the medical office and exercising power over them gave him considerable satisfaction.
“Kiryu, you’re here.”
“Perfect timing. We’re short on hands here. Move these things to the professor’s car.”
When he saw Kiryu Kazusuke, he beckoned to him.
“Understood.”
Kiryu Kazusuke put down his bag, walked over, and picked up two crates of Yebisu beer that looked extremely heavy.
This was the year-end work of a resident.
“Good morning, Kiryu-kun.”
Tanaka Kenji came over, holding a box of some unknown local specialty. Presumably, it was also to be moved to the professor’s car.
“Have you heard?”
“What nonsense. I only just got to the medical office. What could I have heard?”
“Oh, right. You weren’t at work yesterday. It’s about tonight’s year-end party. I heard it’s being held at Matsunoya.”
“Matsunoya?”
Kiryu Kazusuke was no stranger to the name. It was the oldest established high-class ryotei in Maebashi City.
It was said that the average cost per meal was at least thirty thousand yen, and it was members-only; ordinary people could not get a reservation at all.
“Yeah. Apparently, Congressman Okawara’s side arranged it, saying it’s to thank our department.”
“I’ve never been to a place like that in my life.”
“I heard there’ll even be geisha performances.”
Tanaka Kenji looked excited, practically drooling.
Kiryu Kazusuke nodded noncommittally.
A banquet of such high standards might be said to thank the department, but in reality, it was to thank the professor and a few core members.
If residents were allowed to go, it was purely to serve as atmosphere fillers and pour drinks.
The two of them carried the things toward the parking lot.
In the elevator, Tanaka Kenji was still chattering on endlessly about the evening’s menu.
“I hope there’ll be fugu cuisine. Winter fugu is the fattest.”
“Oh, right, Kiryu-kun. There’s also some bad news I have to tell you.”
“This New Year, you and I are on duty together, from December 30 to December 31. You know that, right?”
The topic suddenly shifted to this.
Tanaka Kenji looked bitter.
Back-to-back shifts, two days and two nights.
Kiryu Kazusuke was not surprised at all.
Even though when he entered the medical office, he had not yet had time to look at the duty roster.
If they left the lowest-level expendables unused and instead made senior doctors take the shifts, that would truly be something strange.