Take The Bucket. Put Down The Blood. (...where did he even get the blood from???)

This flask of devil's blood he has on him! Obviously!

If he knew what that was, he'd be more alarmed.

...treating the general public for several years has not completely got rid of his sense of embarassment, but has got rid of it enough. He points at the blood. "Blood dangerous." He shakes his head very dramatically. He points at the bucket and nods. "Water safe." (Not really, but close enough.)

This is the universal facial expression of Mind Your Own Fucking Business.

...Every minute he has this fight, someone is going unbandaged. Even if he can see the future Hepatitis outbreak.

He's just going to pointedly leave the bucket next to him, and then go treat more patients so he can get to them the Walking Bloodborne Epidemic gets to them.

He kicks over the bucket.

Fucking Tian Xia. 

Do not! We have limited buckets here! ...He is very much looking forward to a) in the short term, the flow of patients slowing and b) in the longer term, learning the language so he can clear up whatever bizarre medical misapprehensions are leading to people putting blood on their patients. (Blood in patients: sometimes good. Blood on patients:  bad.)

The flow of patients is really, really not cooperating with him. 

The sun is setting. He is tired and hungry and it is becoming increasingly obvious he put in an entire day of work before he got transported to Blood On Patients Land.

In theory he should rest. He would be more effective.

But he doesn't really trust the food or the beds or the medics here not to somehow kill him or the patients if he stops.

More bandages, more buckets of water, more dressing wounds, more weird blood-smearing and other questionable medical practices...

His hands are starting to hurt and his vision is starting to blur.

Even if he's swaying on his feet he isn't putting blood on his patients.

And his vision blacks out. 

When he wakes up, he is in a tent, with a bed and not much else. 

It's... Nice of them to put him in a tent?

He's awake, but feels awful. Presumably because he kept going till he passed out. But there are people who are hopefully alive because he did that.

He needs to get back to the field hospital.

... After he acquires the Least Suspicious Local Food.

No, he is not going to do that.

Chrisor gets a Message that the weird Tian Xia cleric is awake, walks over, and taps him with Tongues. "Who are you, what god do you worship, and why are you here? No country in Tian Xia sent anyone to the Worldwound." 

(Why they didn't tell him about the weird Tian Xia cleric as soon as he appeared, instead of letting him touch literally dozens of Chelish soldiers, Chrisor has no idea. Someday, everyone in the world will be burned in the purifying fires of Hell until they become perfect instruments of Asmodeus's will, and then Chrisor will stop being surrounded by incompetents.)

(He'll figure out some kind of... interesting... punishment for them later.)

Being able to understand this guy is both very convenient and very weird. "I'm not from Tian Xia, I've never heard of there. I'm from Thailand. I came here by accident."

Why is his life like this.

"Tian Xia is the name in Taldane, which is the language I'm speaking, of the continent that people who look like you come from."

"--I have never heard of 'Taldane.'"

Obviously not! You're from some godforsaken region of Tian Xia!

"Now you have. --Who are you, what god do you worship, and how did you get here?"

"I'm Doctor Bunnakit Songsakdina, I worship the Buddha--" why is this relevant "-- and I don't know how I got here."

...that's weird. 

"...I've never heard of the Buddha. Are they-- Chaotic, Lawful, Good, Evil...?"

Of course he hasn't heard of him, he's a random white man from Taldane. "-- I have a feeling those terms mean something specific. To my knowledge he's 'Good.'" Or he's definitely good, but for all Bun knows good means something different. (And he has very little clue what 'Chaotic' would mean in the context of religion.)

"...Pharasma sorts all people into one of nine afterlives when they die based on whether they are Good or Evil and Lawful or Chaotic?"

"...no."

"...you're from a different plane."

Chrisor's day is much more interesting and some clerics are about to wind up way more tortured.

"--That matches what I've seen." He didn't expect to be on a different... Planet? But it explains why people think you should put blood on wounds.