Nineteenth Century Medical Guide

Chapter 437 433. Three Giant Heads
For Mayer, the night of June 6 was too bad, bad enough to make him jump into the Seine and drown himself, because he not only failed to seize the opportunity to interview Cavey, but also failed to have the opportunity to comment on the two British and Russian princes.

The morning of June 6 was too exciting, exciting enough to make him feel that he had already stood at the top of Paris' celebrity journalists. The next step was to take over the largest celebrity entertainment platform, Gauloise, and become the voice of the Parisian press.
This daydream-like imagination was entirely due to a personal invitation from Kavi.

In Mayer's limited knowledge, no reporter or news writer had ever had such an opportunity. It was said that even the invitation to the banquet of the Prince of Wales himself was thrown into the garbage dump on the corner as waste paper by him, which shows the temper of this young surgeon.

He always thought that Carvey had a bright future, and that it would be helpful to report on him and build a good relationship with him now. However, several gossip newspapers sneered at this and rejected many of Mayer's related manuscripts on the grounds that his life was dull and boring and there was no explosive point.

He hesitated and felt lost because of this. Could a young doctor really enter the celebrity social circle by performing a few operations?

However, last night, a unique surgical operation took place on the operating table of the Hôtel-Dieu, in the hands of Kavi. At the same time, the romantic prince and the amorous grand duke both spent tens of thousands of francs to appear at the operation site. The news that the three young men in their 20s were close friends spread like wildfire, slapping too many people in the face, including Mayer's own face.

Mayer was secretly very happy, but he lost control at the hospital gate and watched Kavi get on the carriage.

Then several newspapers reported this major event. Not to mention the three giants Le Figaro, Le Progress and French Journal, but also newspapers such as Paris Life, Le Gaulois, Petit Journal and Paris Review, which never touched on medicine, all gave Kavi important pages.

Even the Paris New Edition, which only cared about celebrity gossip, could not help but pay attention to the influence of this young doctor and put him on the front page.

Unfortunately, the writer's level was poor and the content was empty and boring, so Mayer couldn't continue reading before he finished half of it.

No one cares about the piled-up words, which are not even fancy, and the adjectives added by the writers at a later stage are meaningless. What he wants is a more explosive report that is more in line with Kawi's daily life. This is what a reporter should do.

“What a wonderful evening!”

At 5 p.m., Mayer carefully selected the clothes he should wear in front of the closet, and went out after dressing up. He did not take a carriage, but chose to walk.

Holding the note left by Kavi in ​​his hand, he walked along the Seine. Taking a walk in the evening breeze helped him clear his mind and think carefully about the questions for the interview later.

[Mr. Mayer, I know you have always wanted to interview me. See you tonight at 7:7 p.m., table at Toulouse Restaurant, Boulevard Montparnasse. — Kavi Hines]
There were only a few strokes, but he could see Kavi's sincerity.

As for why she chose him alone, Mayer attributed it to the fact that the upper class needed a media person who could cooperate with them. Since Carvey had already joined the celebrity circle, he couldn't be casual in this regard, otherwise anyone could write him off.

Mayer himself was from the common people. If he had the Earl as an important ally, he would sooner or later be able to enter his social circle, and maybe even get in touch with other bigwigs. At the very least, it would be enough to gain a foothold in the journalism industry, and he wouldn't have to worry about how to submit manuscripts every day to maintain the high expenses.

However, the development of things is always beyond people's expectations.

At 7pm, the people sitting at table 40 in the Toulus restaurant were not Kavi, but two strangers he had never seen before. One was estimated to be under 20 years old, wearing an old gray-yellow jacket and black trousers, with a wary look in his eyes, as if everyone he saw was an enemy. The other was in his s, looked much calmer, just lowered his head to read the newspaper, and had no reaction to his arrival.

Meyer took out the note and repeatedly compared the information on it with the restaurant sign. After confirming that there was nothing wrong with his eyes, he had to find the restaurant waiter: "Excuse me, is Dr. Kavi Hines here?"

"Kavi." The waiter once again remembered the name of the young man who came to reserve a seat in the morning, and immediately pointed to the two people sitting at table 7, "Dr. Kavi hasn't come yet. He reserved table 7. You and them should wait here for a while."

Mayer was a journalist, but he was not used to dealing with strangers, and it was even more uncomfortable for him to sit at the same table with two strangers. If it weren't for the note in his hand, he might not even have the motivation to pull out the chair and would have turned around and left.

"Looks like we're in the same business." The middle-aged man seemed to understand something and started playing with his pen on the table with a strange look in his eyes. "I guess he was tricked by Kavi again."

Fool?

Before Mayer could react, the other party took out his own note. It had the same content and the same signature, except that the name at the beginning was changed: "Haha, it seems that you know nothing about Dr. Cavey. He is a selfish guy. Do you really think he asked you to interview him?"

"Mr. Varela, you were too harsh in your comments about Dr. Kavi," the young man finally spoke.

"Oh, he's so arrogant on weekdays, and he calls me mean?" Varela put away his pen. "I bet he called us here not for some crappy interview, but for his own benefit. Does he want us to bring his deeds in Paris back to Vienna? Or did he get into trouble and need someone to help clean up his mess?"

"Doctor Kavi hasn't arrived yet, so don't guess." The young man stood up and introduced himself to Mayer. "My name is Greg, and this is Varela. We are both reporters from the Vienna Daily."

"You are also reporters?" Mayer's excitement after the whole day was shattered.

Varela wasn't that difficult to get along with. After hearing his introduction, he took the initiative to stand up and shake Mayer's hand. However, this gesture, while expressing goodwill, also announced that his patience had reached its limit: "It's almost seven o'clock. If you don't show up by the time, I'll leave. You can wait if you want. I'm sure I can't wait any longer."

Greg still maintained his indifferent expression and said jokingly, "Why are you in such a hurry? You are just sitting around in Paris anyway, why not listen to what he wants to say?"

"What else can we say? What can we do?"

Varela is still reeling from the slow demise of surgery from the Viennese press: "He came here to exploit us, and we were expecting him to help us find a way out and a new job?"

"Why do you always"

Just as Greg was about to retort, he heard the restaurant doorbell ring in the distance: "I'm so late, I'm so sorry."

Perhaps it was the influence of his current status that made Varela, who disliked Kawi very much, dare not say anything when he saw Kawi in person. He could only hold his breath, sit in his seat and listen to what he was going to do.

"Huh? Why haven't you served any food yet?" Kavi saw the empty table and called the waiter, "I ordered dinner."

The waiter immediately explained: "Because you haven't arrived in person, we dare not serve. But the food is ready, and it can be served now if needed." "Come on, come on, I'm hungry."

Kavi took off his coat and placed it on the hanger along with his hat. He smiled and said to the three people, "Today we have their specialty, white bean and chicken stew. I tried it last time and it was pretty good. By the way, what kind of alcohol do you want? Wine or whiskey? Of course, if you like beer, there are many varieties here."

"Okay, okay." It was Varela who spoke first. "You are being nice to us for no reason. Tell me, what do you want from us?"

Kavi didn't hide it either: "There must be something wrong, but I can't take advantage of you for nothing. Before talking about that matter, you can ask whatever you want, I will tell you everything I know. Of course, I want to let you know first, I only know about the surgery, and my understanding of other things is very limited. Don't let me bully you when you can't ask the reason."

Greg smiled and secretly kicked Varela: "See, it's not as serious as you say."

"Since you said so," Varela said bluntly, flipping through the notebook and asking, "You have been staying in Paris for a while and have received the Legion of Honor. Will you stay in France to develop your career? This is not a made-up question. The University of Paris has approached you several times. We all know it."

Kavi smiled and moved half a body to the side, asking the waiter to bring the dishes to the table: "I just want to say that I am still a member of the Vienna Surgical Association."

"What about the invitation from the University of Paris?"

"If you ask that, the University of Vienna gave me more invitations. When I graduated, they asked me to stay on to teach. Of course, there are also the University of Zurich, the University of Munich, and Oxford." Kavi shook his head, and for a moment he couldn't remember how many other university invitations were left in his trash can forever. "If these are all counted, where do you think I stayed?"

quibble
Varela cursed in his heart and continued to ask, "Does that mean you will return to Vienna?"

"Yes and no." Kavi has not yet figured out what to do next. "I haven't confirmed my schedule yet, but I have decided to stay in Paris this year. I have two surgeries that must be done, and there is no reason to change it for now."

"You mean you'll leave only if you have surgery?"

"Tsk, why are you here again?" Kavi poured Varela a glass of wine. "No one will like you if you always use such fishing questions in interviews."

"I'm a reporter, not a socialite who jumps into a man's arms. Why do I need people to like me???"

"Don't ask about my schedule later. I don't know. I'll tell you when I think it through." Kavi spread his hands. "Any other questions?"

Compared to Varela's aggressiveness, young Greg was more of a slow cooker, asking questions that were all about surgery, but his ultimate purpose was something deeper: "Dr. Kavi, I'd like to congratulate you on your successful surgery last night."

"Thank you."

"I'm more concerned about the surgery. I heard it took more than two hours." Greg flipped through the notes he had written down before. "That's a newborn baby. His body is definitely not as good as an adult's. How can you be sure that he can survive a two-hour surgery?"

"I'm not sure," Kawi admitted, "but if he doesn't have surgery, he won't live to be a year old."

"What if I do an abdominal fistula?" Greg was obviously prepared. "I heard that some people lived to 50, but the success rate of the operation is not very high. But it should be no problem for you, right?"

"It's true that a fistula can help one live longer, but the quality of life is very poor," Kawi explained. "He's not from a wealthy family. If he really had a fistula in his stomach, he wouldn't be able to go to school, let alone work on an ordinary assembly line. How would he live in this physical condition?"

Greg accepted his answer and asked, "How confident were you about the surgery before it happened?"

"Seventy to eighty percent."

"Have you ever thought about the possibility of failure of the operation?" Greg continued to ask, "After all, there are so many big shots watching your operation. I heard that the Prince of Wales alone spent 9 francs. If the operation fails, you will face a bunch of people waiting to pull you down from the altar."

"Altar? What altar? If the operation failed, it failed. This is normal." Kavi was a little surprised. "As for whether it was successful, let the colleagues judge. Those who wrote the report don't understand surgery at all. It's better not to read it."

Greg nodded, and suddenly changed the subject: "Where did you learn this kind of surgery? As far as I know, surgical innovation requires the accumulation of a large number of failed cases, and the failed cases also need to be based on a large number of corpse dissections before you have the courage to put this kind of surgery on the operating table.

You have performed less than 10 child autopsies and only practiced on one cadaver before the operation. Can you really think through all the details with such practice? "

Kavi lamented that this old problem still arises.

What do you mean less than 10? He hadn't practiced with even one. On the 1th, it was Landreth who handled all the operations on the child's corpse, and he had been discussing with Cecilia how to move the electric bed into the Main Palace Hospital.

As for experience, Kawi certainly has quite a lot of experience.

There are many traumatic car accidents in modern times, and pelvic floor surgery, including pelvic fractures, suturing of large blood vessels, and reconstruction of the urethra and rectum and anus, are all things he must master. Therefore, he can skillfully perform anatomical separation of each pelvic floor structure without any practice, and can also skillfully perform the final complex suturing work.

But facing Greg, he still couldn't say too much: "This is probably talent."

This was beyond the three's expectations: "I thought you were going to mention that Lombard father again."

"What he taught were all relatively basic things. Quantitative changes accumulated to eventually complete qualitative changes." Kavey reluctantly brushed off the topic. Seeing that Greg had no other questions, he looked at Mayer and said, "Mr. Mayer, it's your turn. I know you have a lot of questions, and you can ask them now."

Mayer did have many questions, including the preparation for the surgery, his mood during the surgery, his friendship with the Prince of Wales, whether he really knew Grand Duke Vladimir, what he thought of Venetia and Ortons' figures, whether there was a girl he liked, and he even wanted to know the relationship between Kavi and Osman.
But now he had no interest in all this: "I am more interested in knowing why you asked me to come here. Before I understand this clearly, I really don't have the mood to ask questions."