a world of
Before anaesthesia, surgery was not a medical procedure—it was a waking nightmare.
Patients were held down by force—arms and legs strapped or pinned by assistants—wide-eyed, thrashing, and screaming as the knife cut into living flesh. There were no painkillers, no sedation—only raw agony and the echo of their cries in the room.
Surgeons worked with frantic speed, hands soaked in blood, saws and scalpels flashing in candlelight, not for precision, but to end the patient’s torture quickly. Bones were amputated in under a minute, not by choice, but by necessity—any longer could break the will of both patient and doctor.
The smell of blood, sweat, and fear hung thick in the air. Fainting, vomiting, or fleeing were not uncommon among onlookers.
The fear of the knife ran so deep that many people, when told surgery was needed, chose slow death over screaming on the table.
This was not just medicine without anaesthesia—it was a world where pain ruled, and the surgeon’s speed was often the only mercy.