Authors: Ginny Dye
“I’m sure someone will be here soon,” she said, trying to sound encouraging. “In the meantime, I’ve brought you some water.” Hands reached forward eagerly. Carrie gave them their fill then looked off toward the hospital, willing someone to notice and come help. The sky turned a darker blue as the sun slipped low beneath the horizon.
“Are we going to be out here all night, ma’am?”
Carrie just shook her head, but she had no idea whether she was telling the truth. Her earlier look into the wagon had told her there was much she could do to help. She didn’t know the full extent of their injuries, but surely she could alleviate some of their suffering. As she contemplated the possibility, it was as if a great fog settled on her mind.
Somewhere, in the midst of all the fatigue and pain, Carrie had begun to doubt herself. Anyone who gets lost in the fog rarely even notices its encroachment. It comes on gradually, the sum total of many small uncertainties which hardly seem worth a second thought. There is a little patch of mist here, another patch farther over. There is a slow thickening of the haze along the horizon as the sky turns gray and sags lower toward the trees. Sunlight fades out imperceptibly - until suddenly there is fog everywhere, blanketing everything within its reach. The noises coming from the shrouded landscape are unidentifiable, confusing, and full of menace. Carrie was losing herself in the fog. Little doubts had crept in, had grown, waiting for some quick shock to jar all of them into one disastrous uncertainty.
Carrie trembled as the doubts rampaged through her mind. She had been so sure she had helped that young soldier earlier that morning. He had died several hours after surgery. The doctor - striding through in the afternoon - had stared at her as if it were her fault. Maybe it was. Maybe she was never meant to be a doctor. Maybe she could not really help people. Doubts assailed her, threatening to crush her confidence and will.
The young spokesman for the group persisted, his voice weaker this time. “Are you sure someone is coming?”
Carrie turned to look into his eyes again. In his eyes she saw hope, a hope that refused to die even in the midst of horror and pain. Time seemed to stand still as the frail hope seemed to reach out for her, seeking a way into her own heart. Struggling to conquer her fears, Carrie let his hope become hers. Suddenly she knew what she had to do. She might not save these men. She might even make things worse. But at least they would know someone cared. At least they would not die alone and frightened in a wagon.
“I’m going to help you,” she said firmly. “I don’t know when anyone will be coming.” She stepped closer. “Will you let me help you?” Her voice was strong now.
The soldier nodded gratefully. “Yes, ma’am! Anything you can do would be much appreciated.”
Carrie asked pointed questions, discovering that between the four men there were two broken legs, a broken arm, eight bullet wounds, and two cases of dysentery. Two of the men had raging fevers. One was completely unresponsive even though he was conscious. She thought longingly of the herbs at home, knowing she could not just waltz into the hospital to request medicine. “I’ll be right back.”
Chaos continued to reign as more wagons rolled up the hill. No one even noticed when she grabbed bandages, a pail of water, light blankets, and splints. She hoped she looked like she was just carrying them to a ward. In minutes she was back at the wagon. Tossing the supplies inside, she climbed into the wagon with the men and set to work.
She started with the man who had called her over. “What’s your name?”
“Angus McFarley, ma’am.”
“Well, Angus McFarley, we need to get some of these wounds cleaned up.” Carrie dipped a bandage in water and then gently washed the grime and dirt away from the bullet wounds. She winced at the red flesh, signs of infection, already surrounding the wounds. It did no good to wish for powdered charcoal and turpentine spirits to treat the wounds. That would have to be done by someone with access to the medicine. In the meantime, she could make sure they were clean.
Once the wounds were clean and wrapped, she turned to his leg. By its awkward angle, she knew it was badly broken. She probed gently with her fingers to ascertain the kind of break. “It feels like a clean break, Mr. McFarley. I can set it for you, but we’ll have to straighten it first.” She paused, looking at him squarely. “I can do it, or you can wait for a doctor.”
Angus returned her look evenly. “Well, ma’am, I have to tell you I’ve never had a woman doctoring on me before, but you’ve done a fine job so far. There’s no telling how long I’ll have to wait for a doctor. I trust you. I reckon you better go ahead.”
Carrie nodded crisply and repositioned herself in the wagon. If she was going to get tossed out of the hospital, she might as well go out with a bang of glory. She had just grabbed hold of his foot and braced her back against the side of the wagon when a voice exploded in her ear.
“What the devil is going on here?”
CHAPTER NINE
Carrie didn’t even look up. “I would say it’s rather obvious that I’m getting ready to set a leg.” With a mighty heave, she pulled with all her strength. She heard a satisfying snap at just the same moment Angus cried out in pain. Only then did she look up. “Would you like to help me splint it -- doctor?” She almost groaned when she saw the surgeon’s insignia on the young doctor’s shirt, but she had known when she began that she would probably be discovered and tossed from the hospital. It was a risk she had chosen to take. At least now the remaining men would get the attention they needed.
“You seem to know what you’re doing. I’ll watch.”
Carrie glanced up in amazement then tightened her lips and went to work. He was probably waiting for her to make a mistake. Well, he was going to be disappointed. Positioning the splint carefully, she wrapped bandages around it until it was secure. Only when she was certain the bone wouldn’t shift did she settle back. “They’ll set it in plaster of paris later. This will do for now.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Angus said fervently, smiling through his pain. “What can you do for the other fellows?”
Carrie sat quietly, waiting for the watching doctor to speak. When he said nothing, she decided to press on. This may have been her only chance to treat patients until this war was over and she could go north to medical school. She would not waste time wondering what some doctor was thinking.
“Those two with the dysentery – they got it real bad, ma’am. They’ve been real sick - running a real high fever. Can you do something?”
“I’m afraid not, Angus. Not without the proper medicine. I’m afraid all I can do is make them more comfortable until they reach the hospital.”
“What kind of medicine would you be prescribing?”
Carrie finally turned and took her first good look at the doctor. Grudgingly, she had to admit she liked what she saw. A thick thatch of red hair framed a pair of lively green eyes. Even with his face lined with fatigue and covered with grime, she knew he liked to laugh. “I hope you’re asking because you intend to help these men,” she snapped crisply and then answered his question. “I would try a powder composed of five grains of the mercury and chalk of the pharmacopoeia, six grains of Dover’s powder, and two grains of sulphate of quina. It should be administered several times a day until they begin to recover.”
“I’ll get it,” he said with a smile. “You set the other leg.” Turning, he walked quickly back to the hospital.
Carrie suppressed her amazement and went back to work. She would figure it all out later. Right now she had work to do. Her hands were tender but strong as she probed the leg of the man who was completely unresponsive. Somehow he was managing to keep his eyes open, but they were the eyes of a staring zombie. The pain of his fractured leg, combined with two bullet wounds and dysentery, had overwhelmed him. Carrie’s heart swelled with sympathy, but her head was clear. Her examination revealed his leg was badly fractured, a jagged, splintered break that would not respond well to setting. It would be too easy for a piece of bone to cut into muscle or blood vessels. She straightened the leg as best she could, then placed a splint around it, and wrapped it carefully. It would take a skillful surgeon to save his life. With the workload they were under now, he would no doubt lose his leg. Even under the best of circumstances, it would be difficult to save.
She had just finished the bandaging when the young doctor once more appeared at her side. He watched her quietly for a few moments as she carefully cleaned the soldier’s wounds, picking out the maggots that had already begun to breed there.
“Would you like some help?” he finally asked in an admiring voice.
“Yes. Thank you,” she said in surprise. “Did you get the medicine?” When he nodded, she smiled in relief. “This soldier needs some. So does the one leaning against the back. He has two bullet wounds in his left arm. They look pretty bad.”
The two worked silently until all the men had been treated and stabilized the best conditions would allow. Carrie had just settled back against the wagon when a group of men with stretchers moved toward the wagon.
“I told them we should be done about this time. They are here to take the men into the hospital. I arranged some beds for them.”
Carrie’s heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor...?”
“My name is Dr. Wild. Michael Wild.” He managed a tired smile. “And you are?”
“Carrie Cromwell.” Stepping out of the wagon, Carrie moved to the side to make room for the men approaching the wagon. They looked at the blood splatters on her dress with surprise, but no one said anything.
Except for Angus McFarley. “Thank you, ma’am. You make a mighty fine doctor.”
Carrie smiled at him gently. “Thank you
, Angus. I hope you get well soon.” Then they were all gone. She looked up at the sky, surprised to see the first stars beginning to twinkle. A dark bank of clouds rested on the horizon. Carrie hoped it meant rain.
“Where did you learn how to do all that?” Dr. Wild asked quietly.
“I learned some of it from my mother. Some from a slave on our family plantation, and some from medical books.”
“How did you know about the medicine for dysentery? That’s a fairly recent discovery. Not even all the doctors here know it.”
Carrie shrugged, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction. “Most things can be learned by reading.”
“Yes..,” Dr. Wild said thoughtfully. “For those who care enough to want to know. You obviously care a great deal.”
Carrie decided to be honest. She was much too tired to play games. “I want to be a doctor, Dr. Wild,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “I realize what most of the country thinks of women in medicine. I know especially what the South thinks of women in medicine. That doesn’t change the fact I’m going to be a doctor. People will just have to get used to it,” she added bluntly.
She was astonished when Dr. Wild threw back his head and laughed. “I like you, Carrie Cromwell. You remind me of a friend of mine. Her name is Ann Preston.” “Ann Preston?” Carrie gasped. “Why she is a professor of physiology at The Female Medical College of Philadelphia. She has had a tremendous impact on the school since graduating from there in 1852.”
“Right on all counts.”
Carrie felt herself relax. She may still be dismissed from her work, but it probably was not going to be by Dr. Wild. “You went to school in the North?” she asked eagerly.
“They had the best schools in the country at the time. I practiced medicine in Raleigh, North Carolina until the war started. Dr. McCaw asked me to join him here.” Dr. Wild leaned back against the wagon and stretched his arms over his head. “Once this war is over, I hope to never again have to treat the kinds of things I’ve had to treat here,” he said brusquely.