Shifted By The Winds (16 page)

“What exactly is so different?” Janie asked.

Carrie listened closely, but she heard no judgement. “Don’t you know?”

Janie took a deep breath. “You’re upset because they turn their nose up at herbal remedies and anything homeopathic.”

“Yes,” Carrie cried. Hearing Janie say the words unleashed a torrent of emotion inside her. “I realize medicine has made many advances, but….” Her mind flashed to all she had learned from Dr. Wild. “Surgery changed so much during the war…” she sputtered. Other memories filled her mind as her thoughts congealed. “But if not for the herbs the doctors here turn their noses up at, many of the patients at Chimborazo would have died. All of the patients down at the black hospital would have died.” Everything she had been pushing down rose to the surface. “So many of the things they call remedies now are just pure nonsense.”

“Like?”

Carrie spun around and stared at Janie. “Don’t you know?” she asked again, wishing the darkness was not shrouding her friend’s face. “You were there with me all through the war, Janie. You know what we did!”

Janie sighed. “Yes, I know.”

Carrie peered at her, trying to analyze what she was hearing. “It doesn’t bother you?” she demanded.

“And if it does?” Janie asked, a helpless note in her voice. “What difference will it make? This is the only medical school for women in Philadelphia. What good will it do to disagree? I want to become a doctor,” she said. “When I get my degree, I can run my practice the way I want to, but until then I just need to learn what they are teaching. I guess it really doesn’t matter to me if I agree or not.”

Carrie knew there was truth in what Janie was saying, but she chafed at what she was being asked to do.

Janie felt her angst. “First do no harm,” she murmured in understanding.

Carrie shook her head. “Actually, that is not part of the Hippocratic Oath. At least not the original one.” She could feel Janie’s stare. “It’s true. I found a book in the library a few days ago. The phrase, ‘First, do no harm,’ came from an English physician named Thomas Inman.”

Janie cocked her head. “The English physician who is still alive?”

“Yes. I agree with what he said, but it was not part of the original oath.”

“I didn’t know that,” Janie murmured.

Carrie warmed to her subject, eager to get away from her earlier thoughts. “Hippocrates has often been called the father of medicine. It is believed that either he or one of his students wrote the oath in the
fifth century BC.” She stood and walked to her desk and pulled down a book from the shelf next to it. She turned on her light and flipped the pages. “I won’t read all of it, but this is the part I find most important:

“With regard to healing the sick, I will devise and order for them the best diet, according to my judgment and means; and I will take care that they suffer no hurt or damage.

Nor shall any man's entreaty prevail upon me to administer poison to anyone; neither will I counsel any man to do so. Moreover, I will give no sort of medicine to any pregnant woman, with a view to destroy the child.

Further, I will comport myself and use my knowledge in a godly manner.

Whatsoever house I may enter, my visit shall be for the convenience and advantage of the patient; and I will willingly refrain from doing any injury or wrong from falsehood, and (in an especial manner) from acts of an amorous nature, whatever may be the rank of those who it may be my duty to cure, whether mistress or servant, bond or free.

Whatever, in the course of my practice, I may see or hear (even when not invited), whatever I may happen to obtain knowledge of, if it be not proper to repeat it, I will keep sacred and secret within my own breast.

If I faithfully observe this oath, may I thrive and prosper in my fortune and profession, and live in the estimation of posterity; or on breach thereof, may the reverse be my fate!”

Carrie put the book back on her desk. “
And I will take care that they suffer no hurt or damage
,” she repeated quietly. She knew by the look on Janie’s face that she was remembering what they had talked about in class today. “Can you honestly say that bloodletting does not inflict hurt or damage?” she asked angrily. “Withdrawing large quantities of blood from a patient to cure or prevent illness and disease is ridiculous.”

“Doctor Jamison said it was being questioned and not used so much anymore,” Janie protested as she looked away uncomfortably.

“Yes,” Carrie agreed, “but she didn’t make clear how much damage has been done by the practice, and she didn’t tell us it has no place in modern medicine!” Her heart pounded as she reached for another book and opened it to the marker she had placed in it. “‘Bloodletting has been used to treat almost every disease. It’s been used to treat acne, asthma, coma, convulsions, epilepsy, gangrene, gout, herpes, indigestion, insanity…’ ” Her voice rose with disgust. “
Insanity
!” she snorted. “I’ve never heard such nonsense.” She looked back at her book and continued to read. “‘Jaundice, leprosy, plague, pneumonia, scurvy, smallpox…’ ” She snapped the book closed. “And that is just part of the list. It actually goes on to list about one hundred more.”

“Are you certain it has no value?” Janie asked quietly.

“What I’m certain of,” Carrie snapped, “is that doctors that had no idea how to cure patients decided
any
treatment was better than nothing at all. Even draining large amounts of their blood!” She stared at Janie, vaguely aware her friend wasn’t sharing her outrage, but now that she had started to talk, she couldn’t stop. “Do you know George Washington died after he was bled heavily?”

Janie shook her head, her eyes curious. “No.”

“Our first president asked to be bled heavily after he developed a throat infection from weather exposure. Within a ten-hour period, they took close to a gallon of his blood.” Carrie’s voice was tight with fury. “A
gallon
of his blood. How did they expect the man to live?” she demanded. She answered the question in Janie’s eyes. “He died. They blamed it on the throat infection, but the truth is he had nothing to fight it off because of all the blood they had taken. I believe bloodletting weakens patients and facilitates infection.”

“He asked them to do it,” Janie said weakly.

Carrie just looked at her, unable to believe what she was hearing.

Janie flushed and looked away briefly before swinging her eyes back to Carrie’s. “How can you be sure you’re right? Why do you think you know more than the doctors who are teaching us?”

Carrie knew it was a fair question. “Because I’ve seen it,” she said promptly. “The surgeons at Chimborazo did it to most of the patients. Sarah taught me that blood is life so I convinced Dr. Wild not to perform bloodletting on his patients.”

“And how did Sarah
know
that?”

“I don’t know,” Carrie confessed easily. “But neither do I know how she knew yarrow relieves fever and helps with digestion. All I know is that she was right,” she said. “When Dr. Wild stopped draining our patients of their blood, many more of them lived.” She stood and walked over to stare out the window before she turned back. “You know that is true, Janie! Our ward had the highest survival rate at the hospital.”

Janie didn’t refute Carrie’s challenge, but she seemed to draw within herself on the window seat. “I’m not like you,” she said slowly, her voice tight and anxious.

“What does that mean?” Carrie fought to remain patient. How could she see it so clearly, and Janie not see it at all? She grabbed up the book again. “Do you know that in medieval Europe doctors believed surgery was beneath them? Physicians tended to be academics. They worked in universities, and most dealt with patients as an observer or consultant. They didn’t want to get their hands dirty,” she scoffed scornfully. “They used
barber
surgeons.”

Janie blinked. “Barber surgeons?”

“Yes,” Carrie said passionately. “Barber surgeons were the most common medical practitioners back then. Their job was to look after soldiers during or after a battle. They, of course, all had sharp-bladed razors. They were expected to do everything from cutting hair to amputating limbs. The death rate was already staggering due to loss of blood and infection. They increased it by taking even more of their patients’ blood.”

“I’m sure they thought they were helping, Carrie,” Janie protested, her face white with horror.

Carrie nodded. “I’m sure you’re right,” she agreed easily, “but doctors have been telling people since the 1600s that it is harmful. Instead of listening, doctors who simply have no real clue how to make people well just keep cutting them and sucking the very life from them!”

A long silence filled the room.

“I envy you,” Janie finally murmured. “I’m also scared for you.”

Carrie shook her head. “Scared for me?”

“Yes. It’s already so difficult for a woman to become a doctor. We are ridiculed and looked down upon. We have to fight for any kind of respect. Now you want to challenge everything we are being taught by both male and female doctors.”

“Not all of it,” Carrie shot back. “Just the part that is wrong.”

“That’s why I’m scared for you,” Janie said insistently. “The medical establishment here in Philadelphia is already trying to prove women have no place in medicine. They are fighting us at every turn. Now you are going to tell them they are wrong about one of their most established practices?” She paused. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Carrie sighed heavily. “I don’t know.” Anger surged through her in a renewed wave. “All I know is that I have to do what I believe is right.” She frowned and studied Janie’s face. “Do you know that bloodletting is a prescribed remedy for cholera patients?”

Janie stiffened. “No.”

“They are doing it to the cholera patients at the new hospital,” Carrie said bluntly.

Janie shook her head. “But they’re already so dehydrated. How can the doctors—”

“Take more fluid? Drain the blood that might give patients the ability to fight off the disease?” Carrie clenched her fists. She stood and paced the room for a minute before she spun around to look at Janie again. “It’s not like I enjoy creating problems. I don’t enjoy being a square peg in a round hole,” she said helplessly.

“It’s just who you are,” Janie said quietly. “You can’t help it.”

“I suppose I can’t,” Carrie agreed, a deep fatigue settling over her.

Suddenly, she knew what she needed to do.

Marietta had not moved away from her position at the window for several hours. She tried to breathe steadily as she prayed, but her fear was growing. In spite of her best efforts, her breath was starting to come in uneven gasps as exhaustion tightened its grip. She had seen no telltale flicker of flames on the horizon, but that didn’t mean the situation was good in the black quarters. Her mind filled with vivid images. Jeremy figured in every one of them.

She stiffened and leaned forward when a man materialized from the darkness and moved toward her. She forgot to breathe as he came closer. The curtain swirled around her head and shoulders as she pressed forward. When the man drew next to the streetlamp closest to her boarding house, he looked up. “Jeremy!” she gasped, a laugh breaking through the sob caught in her throat. “Jeremy…” Her voice was a whisper as her heart filled with joy and relief.

Jeremy stopped under the streetlight and raised his hand, his eyes trained on her window. He waited until she drew the curtains back and stuck her hand out the window to wave. Then he smiled broadly, waved his hand, and continued walking. Moments later he was once more swallowed by the night.

Marietta had so many questions, but she knew they would have to wait until the morning. Her heart full of gratitude, she crept to her bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in. Within moments she was asleep.

Carrie hoped her assumption that ninety-seven-year-old women didn’t go out much was accurate. She peered at the windows as her carriage pulled up in front of the three-story home where Biddy lived. She didn’t see any movement, but there was no reason to expect any. The street, even so early in the day, was already full of carriages and wagons. Laughter and calls filled the air as hordes of dirty, raggedly dressed children played with careless abandon on the side streets. Women hung laundry while they chatted with neighbors, and Carrie could smell the fragrant aroma of bread swirling around her. Her mouth watered as she suddenly remembered she hadn’t taken time to eat before she left.