Sterilization (ster-uh-luh-zey-shuhn)
As with most discoveries throughout history, luck played a big role in the discovery of sterilization. Bad luck that is.
During the insurrection of Serrill (Sir-Eel) the mad that was attempted twenty cycles ago, more precisely during the battle of Northborough, doctor Tifaine (Tif-Ai-N) was ordered to the front lines to tend to the injured. She had just returned from the Northern Wasteland to meet her contact with the Shimoguyan to replenish her inventory of silk threads that she used to sow wounds, and most importantly her cactus juice. She had been out of juice for twelve days which means she had not slept for the same amount of time.
Just as she arrived home, a soldier was waiting with her orders to escort her to Northborough. With just enough time to pick up her tools, she left in a hurry without unloading the reserve she had just acquired. The journey to Northburgh is shorter than all the way up to the Northern Wasteland. Doctor Tifaine usually traveled in luxury by boat and carriage. This trip was hastened by traveling on horseback. Speed and comfort rarely go together.
The carnage that met Tifaine was worse than she could have imagined. Tired, with frayed nerves and in dire need of a drink, the good doctor had barely entered her designed tent that a soldier with a large cut on his back was carried in. As she prepared her tools, her effects were brought in. As soon as she opened the crate, she saw that most jugs housing her precious juice had leaked. The silk threads could still be used even if they were soaked but she could not salvage most of the cactus juice. Only after securing the little that she could, she then turned to the injured soldier.
After two days and one night of non-stop work, Tifaine took stock of all her work. Amputations, re-attachments, the sowing of wounds, large and small. She was happy with her work, as she always was. As she walked to her sleeping tent, she knew that even with all of her skills, most of the soldiers she treated would most probably still die. Once the human body is opened, it can never be properly closed, she thought. Just like a broken jug.
As the days went on, doctor Tifaine kept helping the injured and looked after her previous patients. That is when she noticed that the skin surrounding the lacerations that she had sown, were not discolored like they had been in the past. The usual puss was missing also. She tested her theory with a colleague by taking a jug of his wine and some of his threads and soaked them in the wine overnight. After a few days, it was clear that soldiers treated with threads soaked in alcohol were doing better than the others.
Tifaine knew two things: this new regimen was only the beginning, and that alcohol was the true answer to any woe.
During the insurrection of Serrill (Sir-Eel) the mad that was attempted twenty cycles ago, more precisely during the battle of Northborough, doctor Tifaine (Tif-Ai-N) was ordered to the front lines to tend to the injured. She had just returned from the Northern Wasteland to meet her contact with the Shimoguyan to replenish her inventory of silk threads that she used to sow wounds, and most importantly her cactus juice. She had been out of juice for twelve days which means she had not slept for the same amount of time.
Just as she arrived home, a soldier was waiting with her orders to escort her to Northborough. With just enough time to pick up her tools, she left in a hurry without unloading the reserve she had just acquired. The journey to Northburgh is shorter than all the way up to the Northern Wasteland. Doctor Tifaine usually traveled in luxury by boat and carriage. This trip was hastened by traveling on horseback. Speed and comfort rarely go together.
The carnage that met Tifaine was worse than she could have imagined. Tired, with frayed nerves and in dire need of a drink, the good doctor had barely entered her designed tent that a soldier with a large cut on his back was carried in. As she prepared her tools, her effects were brought in. As soon as she opened the crate, she saw that most jugs housing her precious juice had leaked. The silk threads could still be used even if they were soaked but she could not salvage most of the cactus juice. Only after securing the little that she could, she then turned to the injured soldier.
After two days and one night of non-stop work, Tifaine took stock of all her work. Amputations, re-attachments, the sowing of wounds, large and small. She was happy with her work, as she always was. As she walked to her sleeping tent, she knew that even with all of her skills, most of the soldiers she treated would most probably still die. Once the human body is opened, it can never be properly closed, she thought. Just like a broken jug.
As the days went on, doctor Tifaine kept helping the injured and looked after her previous patients. That is when she noticed that the skin surrounding the lacerations that she had sown, were not discolored like they had been in the past. The usual puss was missing also. She tested her theory with a colleague by taking a jug of his wine and some of his threads and soaked them in the wine overnight. After a few days, it was clear that soldiers treated with threads soaked in alcohol were doing better than the others.
Tifaine knew two things: this new regimen was only the beginning, and that alcohol was the true answer to any woe.
by Dawn Hudson
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