Chapter 297 Suture

She needed to do a lot before she could get down to work.

She lifted his feet first and placed a bundle with a pillow under them to prevent him from going into shock.

Then she opened another bundle and took out a fleece, folded it, and gently placed it around his head so that he wouldn't lose any more body heat.

Then she pulled the quilt aside and began to remove the clothes from him layer by layer, starting at his feet and working her way up.

Then she came to his sweater, which was soaked in blood, damp and cold, and wiped the blood off his chest as best she could, using the pillowcase she had picked up, which was very picky at the moment.

She dried him as well as she could, and then put the quilt over his chest and shoulders.

Finally she lay down beside him, moving closer to him under the layers of quilt until she was next to him, holding him with her arms, and finally put another fleece over their heads, covering their heads and keeping the air they breathed warm.

Their breath warmed the air almost immediately, making her face warmer, and such a small comfort was very welcome, and she felt relieved and wanted to cry.

He felt like ice next to her.

He needed something hot to drink and something sweet to eat to help him fight the shock and cold.

Her trembling was easing, but he wasn't shaking at all, which was not a good sign.

But she could only take a short break, and she had to try to build a shelter for them, at least to block the wind.

However, the first task on her notebook was to feed Song Moting and suture his wounds.

She found the iron pot in the space, and sighed at her wisdom.

This big iron pot was something she saw in the county town by accident, and she didn't know why she put it in at that time.

Now it came in handy.

Thanks to the spring water in her space, Jiang Xiaoxiao cooked rice porridge and put some dried peaches in it.

Peaches were the most important at this time.

I don't know why peach juice didn't work very well, maybe it worked, but she didn't feel it yet.

Looking at the steaming pot.

Jiang Xiaoxiao began to prepare for suture.

Back to Song Moting, she knelt beside him and thoroughly counted the contents of all her medicines.

Scissors - this will definitely come in handy.

A lot of gauze, tape, cotton balls, cotton swabs, a tube of antibacterial ointment, alcohol and iodine, sterile cotton balls, painkillers.

And...

That's the suture kit!

What she was concerned about at the moment was whether these things were enough to roughly treat the wound on Song Moting's head.

The conclusion was that they were enough, which meant that she had no excuse to retreat.

Her skills should not regress, but there was still a hint of sadness. Picking up this kind of thing again reminded her of many things in her previous life.

The first thing should be to clean the wound thoroughly.

Haha!

She didn't even have water to wet the wound, let alone "thoroughly".

She could only do her best, fortunately there was no dirt and debris in the wound.

First she needed to replenish his body with some sugar, and then she might have to give him a few painkillers first.

Without anesthetics, at least it could be a temporary solution.

She carefully removed the fleece covering his head.

Even though she knew he looked terrible, she was almost stunned when she really faced him.

His entire face was covered in dried blood, and blood even formed lumps in his eye sockets, ears, nostrils, and the corners of his mouth.

Worse, his forehead was swollen, stretching the wound further.

She had not expected the wound to swell, and if she didn't treat the wound, the swelling might get worse, so she couldn't wait.

"Brother Song,"

she said, touching him under the layers of quilts.

"Wake up! It's time for the show."

He took a quick, deep breath.

"I'm awake."

His voice sounded much stronger, and now it seemed that her choice might be right to let him warm up first before treating his injuries.

She opened the painkiller bottle and put one between his lips.

Watching him move the pill around in his mouth, noticing his eye meridians that were already covered with blood, reaching out to drip spring water from his fingertips.

Watching him swallow the medicine smoothly.

She gave him another pill, and he repeated the process, then said,

"Mission accomplished."

Carefully pour the disinfectant on the wound.

He immediately twitched, then tried to control himself and stopped moving.

She looked for dirt in the wound, but only saw blood being washed away.

Don't touch the obvious blood clot, then take out a piece of sterile cotton with alcohol and start cleaning around the wound.

She didn't let herself think about the severity of the wound or how easy it would be to get infected in such a non-sterile environment.

Instead, she focused on what she had to do, step by step.

She wiped his hands, needle, and forceps with another piece of sterile cotton.

Then she put on disposable gloves and sterilized everything again.

She disinfected his forehead with iodine.

After sterilizing as much as possible, she got ready, took a deep breath, and began to sew.

The curved needle in her hand penetrated his skin and forced it to the other side of the wound.

"It hurts, bear it."

He didn't answer.

His eyes were closed and his breathing was regular.

Although there was painkiller, Jiang Xiaoxiao knew it must hurt, but it was obviously not as painful as she imagined.

At least when she inserted the needle, his body did not tense up because of the pain.

It was very comforting to her.

She moved slowly, afraid to cause him pain.

She tied each stitch and cut the thread, so each one was separate.

The wound was deep, six inches long.

She knew how many stitches to use per inch, so that the wound would heal nicely.

From start to finish, she was sure it took her at least half an hour.

She carefully arranged the black stitches, wiped away the bleeding from the needle puncturing the skin, and then wondered whether she should apply some antibiotic ointment to the wound before bandaging it.

The only medicine on hand was antibiotics.

But they were not doing the stitches in a normal sterile environment, and the drugs and tools needed were not available.

She and Song Moting were trapped on the mountainside, in the snow, and food was scarce.

She thought his immune system might need all the help it could get.

She carefully applied some ointment to the wound, which contained a mild painkiller, which must be good.

Then she covered the wound with gauze, wrapped it around his head, and then wrapped another layer of medical tape on the outside of the gauze.

The final result was quite neat and beautiful, if she had to say so herself, and the bandage helped prevent dirt from entering the wound.

"It's done!"

She finally announced, slumping down beside him.

It wasn't that the stitching took up much of her energy, but her headache was like being hit on the head by a sledgehammer.

Song Moting was eager to feel Jiang Xiaoxiao's fatigue.

He was anxious, but he couldn't do anything at all.

This helplessness was frustrating.

Damn it, he actually still thought his wife was so beautiful at this time.

In the past, I thought it was beauty, beauty in appearance, but now her beauty is definitely not because of her appearance, because she looks like a street beggar at this time.

Her hair was messy, her face was covered with blood and dirt, and there were bruises under her eyes, which might become black and purple tomorrow.

There were blood stains all over the military coat, and cotton wool was exposed in the torn places.

No matter how you look at it, it looks like a female homeless person.

But it just feels that Jiang Xiaoxiao is so beautiful that it makes people feel distressed.