Mrs. Ando’s left hand clenched the bedsheet.
“But…”
“An operation will leave a scar, won’t it?”
“And I’ve heard wrist surgery is very risky. If they touch a nerve, what if my hand goes numb…”
“Wouldn’t conservative treatment be safer?”
She was making her final struggle. This was also the mindset of most patients.
Even after learning the severity of their condition, their fear of the operating table would often overcome reason.
Especially for a woman like Mrs. Ando, who lived comfortably and cared about appearances.
A centipede-like scar left on her wrist was simply harder to accept than the fracture itself.
Imagawa Ori did not refute her immediately.
She only looked quietly at Mrs. Ando, patiently waiting until the other woman had finished speaking before continuing.
“Mrs. Ando.”
“I completely understand your concerns.”
“It’s true that any operation carries risks, and any operation will leave a scar.”
“But if a confirmed VISI deformity is left untreated, then your wrist—forget your tea ceremony career—may not even be able to lift a tea bowl.”
“You chose Gunma University Hospital because you trust us.”
“As long as the surgery is done well and you cooperate with postoperative rehabilitation, making it to next year’s Hatsugama tea gathering will be somewhat difficult, but it’s not entirely without hope.”
Those words struck precisely at Mrs. Ando’s weak point.
The ward fell into a brief silence.
As a member of Maebashi City’s upper social circles, what Mrs. Ando feared most was not pain, but being excluded from that circle.
At next month’s Hatsugama, the tea ceremony association president’s wife would personally be making tea.
The white mist sprayed from the humidifier slowly dispersed through the air.
Her lips moved, and her gaze had already begun to waver.
“Then… then can the surgery guarantee a cure?”
“When can it be done?”
“Would tomorrow work? Or the day after tomorrow?”
Since she had decided to take the cut, better short pain than long agony.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Ando.” Imagawa Ori shook her head. “As much as I would like to, it can’t be done tomorrow, and not the day after either.”
“The earliest surgery date will have to be scheduled after the New Year.”
Mrs. Ando froze for a moment.
“Why?”
“Didn’t you say surgery was necessary? Why delay it for so long?”
“I can pay extra. Could you please arrange something, Doctor?”
“Really, money isn’t a problem.”
As she spoke, she grew anxious, even wanting to reach out and grab Imagawa Ori’s sleeve.
But Imagawa Ori only gently lifted her right hand, which was swollen like a steamed bun.
“Look at your wrist.”
“The swelling is extremely severe right now. The skin tension is too high.”
“If we force an incision under these circumstances, the wound will be very difficult to close. After surgery, the skin will be prone to necrosis, and it could even lead to exposed bone and infection.”
“At that point, it wouldn’t be a question of scarring. You might not even be able to keep the hand.”
At this point, she stopped.
Starting tomorrow, it would be the six-day year-end and New Year holiday.
Although the hospital would still be open, it had effectively entered a period where operations were halted.
Unless it was massive bleeding where the patient would die immediately without surgery, a ruptured internal organ, or a vascular injury that would result in amputation if not operated on.
In other words, what were known as “ultra-emergency surgeries.”
Otherwise, all elective surgeries would be pushed back until after the New Year.
The reasons were sufficient, and also very realistic.
First was risk management.
Postoperative patients required close monitoring and nursing care.
But during the holidays, the hospital only had on-duty doctors and the minimum number of nurses on post. If complications such as massive bleeding, infection, or embolism occurred, there simply wouldn’t be enough manpower to handle it.
Second was the shutdown of auxiliary departments.
The pathology department was closed, the blood bank only kept blood for emergency use, and even the supply room responsible for sterilizing surgical instruments had only one emergency window open.
Without a prior appointment, at this time you wouldn’t even be able to find a clean scalpel.
Therefore, December 28th was a red line.
Even someone like Imagawa Ori, who was practically mad for money, would not dare go against the wind at a time like this.
Of course, rules were dead, while people were alive.
If the person lying in the bed were not Mrs. Ando, but Assemblyman Okawara himself, or a major benefactor who had donated an entire building to the hospital—
Then even if it were the night of Ōmisoka, even if they had to drag the hospital director out of his bed, this operation would have to be done.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Ando merely had a bit of money.
Since she had not reached the level where the hospital would ignore the rules for her, she could only follow the rules.
“Then… then what should I do?”
After hearing the consequences described by Imagawa Ori, Mrs. Ando’s face paled.
“After we finish the MRI later, we can first perform a manual reduction.”
“I will try to push the displaced lunate bone back into place, then fix it for you with a cast.”
“However, because the ligament has ruptured, this kind of reduction is very difficult to maintain for long.”
“But at the very least, it can relieve your pain and allow the soft tissue to rest, creating better conditions for the operation after the New Year.”
Imagawa Ori patiently soothed Mrs. Ando’s emotions.
Never tell a patient, “Because we’re about to go on holiday.” Instead, say, “This is for your own good.”
This was also a required course for doctors.
“Then I’ll leave it to you, Doctor.”
Mrs. Ando could only nod helplessly.
…
After seeing a few more patients, the morning rounds came to an end.
Kiryu Kazusuke held Mrs. Ando’s examination order in his hand.
As the resident physician in charge of the patient, Tanaka Kenji was naturally the one who had to push the wheelchair.
The two of them went to the radiology department on the first floor of the hospital.
“Caution: strong magnetic field.”
“No entry for persons with pacemakers.”
On the heavy lead-shielded door at the end of the corridor, there were conspicuous yellow warning signs.
Kiryu Kazusuke pushed open the heavy soundproof door, and a wave of cold air rushed at him.
In order to maintain the low-temperature environment for the superconducting coils, the air-conditioning in the MRI room was kept high all year round, several degrees colder than outside.
“This way, please.”
The radiology technician was a balding middle-aged man. Although his face was full of reluctance, his movements did not dare slow down.
On the last working day of the year, no one wanted to make trouble.
“There will be a lot of noise. Please put in the earplugs.”
“Do not move. If you move, the images will blur, and we’ll have to do it again.”
The technician fitted a bulky coil over Mrs. Ando’s wrist, then pressed the button to move the table in.
Amid the humming of the motor, she was slowly sent into that narrow, deep cylinder.
The MRI machines of this era were an entirely different concept from those twenty years later.
There was no spacious bore, no silent technology, no rapid imaging sequences.
That cylinder, with an opening of only sixty centimeters, was practically a living coffin to anyone even slightly claustrophobic.
Once you lay inside, it felt as though you had been swallowed by the world.
And when this machine started working, the commotion it made was comparable to a construction site.
Even so, this 1.5T superconducting MRI scanner from Siemens remained one of the most expensive and most intimidating pieces of equipment at Gunma University Hospital.
Thump thump thump thump—
Rat-tat-tat-tat—
The piercing sound of the switching gradient fields, even through thick glass and walls, still made one feel the floor beneath their feet trembling faintly.
In this era, undergoing an MRI scan was simply an endurance contest.
Conventional T1- and T2-weighted imaging still had to be supplemented with fat-suppression sequences. To see the ligaments clearly, thin-slice scanning might also be required.
The gradient slew rate was too low, and the acquisition matrix was only 256 by 256.
Even if one wanted it to be fast, it simply could not be fast.
For a slightly more complicated area, scanning for an hour was the norm.