ADAM'S JOURNEY OF MEMORIES
Hoss Cartwright bent over his older brother's limp body and pressed a bandana to the wounded man's head. The body seemed lifeless although a faint heartbeat was present.
"Joe!" Hoss shouted. "Adam's hurt! Real bad!"
Joe jumped down from the fence and raced to the center of the corral. Oblivious to the men around him who were scurrying about, Joe reached Hoss's side. Kneeling beside Adam's inert body, Joe noticed the blood streaming from his horrific head wound and was also aware of the sounds of labored breathing.
"Sounds like he's got some broken ribs," Joe said softly. "Can you stop the bleeding from his head?"
"I'm tryin'," Hoss responded. "But the gash is deep and just keeps on pourin' blood no matter what I do."
"I'm going to town to get Doc Martin!" shouted Joe as he raced across the corral and jumped on Cochise's back.
"Hurry!" Hoss shouted back. Then he picked up Adam's limp body and carried it into the house, climbed the stairs two at a time, and laid his brother gently on the bed. Quickly he soaked a towel in the basin of water on the stand under the mirror and applied the wet towel to the torn skin in Adam's hairline, but the blood still flowed and soaked the towel.
Hoss was scared. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the bleeding or get his brother to wake up.
Hop Sing bounded into the room, looked at Adam and then disappeared again. On his return, he carried a large bowl of something that Hoss couldn't identify and began to apply the unknown concoction to Adam's head.
"Hop Sing, what is that stuff?" Hoss made a face at the smell.
"Old Chinese poultice to stop bleeding," Hop Sing answered. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the bleeding stopped. Hop Sing silently left the room, taking the bowl with him. His mind was full of Oriental herb cures and he, too, was aware that Adam probably had broken some ribs.
Adam's normally-tanned face was ashen. He didn't move. He didn't wake up. Hoss began removing Adam's chaps, belt, boots, socks, britches and shirt and, when that was done, he knew he was right about the broken ribs. Already, a large area on Adam's side was turning dark blue. Gingerly, Hoss touched the large bruise, his experienced fingers finding at least three places that surely meant broken ribs. Adam moaned but couldn't be awakened. Pulling the covers down from under the limp body, Hoss gently slid his big brother between the cool sheets and pulled them up over Adam's shoulders. Relieved to see that the bleeding had stopped, Hoss pulled a chair close to the bed and waited for Joe's arrival with Doc Martin. Ben was attending an early morning, supposedly short meeting, of the Cattlemen's Association in Placerville; Hoss prayed that the meeting would, indeed, be short and that his Pa was on the way home right now. Placerville was not that far away.
Hop Sing reappeared with yet another larger bowl, steam rising from the towels that were soaking in it. Hoss didn't even bother to question the family cook. He just watched. Carefully, Hop Sing pulled the covers back to observe the bruises, nodded to himself, and put the towels across Adam's ribs.
"This velly good for bruising and breathing," he said to Hoss. "Cover Mistah Adam up and keep him warm. I in kitchen warming more towels."
Hoss once again pulled the covers up over Adam's shoulders. Adam didn't move. Despite Hoss's pleading, Adam didn't open his eyes. He wheezed with each breath.
Hop Sing made several more trips with the bowl and towels. He also had a cup of steaming liquid that he spooned to Adam's lips, allowing a small amount to dribble into Adam's mouth, encouraged by the fact that Adam could swallow. He kept up the spooning process until the contents of the cup were gone.
"Hop Sing, do you know what you're doin'?" Hoss was worried.
"Hop Sing velly smart. Herbs in broth good for bleeding inside. You see." Again, Hop Sing left the room, leaving Hoss to wonder if Adam was dying and if Hop Sing's potions might be speeding him along toward death. There had been only a few times in Hoss's life when he felt completely helpless and this was one of those times.
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After what seemed like an eternity, Hoss was aware of the pounding of booted feet on the stairs. Relieved, he watched Doc Martin enter the room with his black bag. Little Joe was right behind him, followed by Hop Sing with a bowlful of cool water and wet towels. Ignoring Hoss, Doc Martin first looked at Adam's head – removing the clotted poultice and seeing that the bleeding had stopped.
"Who put the poultice on?" he asked.
"Hop Sing," answered Hoss.
"Good job." That was all Doc Martin said. Hop Sing nodded solemnly. The Chinese had used spider webs and honey for centuries.
Pulling back the covers and removing the towels that Hop Sing had applied to Adam's chest, Doc Martin nodded his head thoughtfully. He could smell the oil from castor beans (said to contain healing properties) and from melted horehound candy (said to promote better breathing). Horehound candy was something the doctor often gave patients if they had bad coughs or chest colds or stuffy noses.
"More of Hop Sing's work?"
"Yessir," Hoss answered.
"Hop Sing, I need some cold towels." Doc Martin was usually quite talkative but he was very succinct now.
Hop Sing, very knowledgeable, handed over the bowl with the towels. Doc Martin allowed himself a small smile. "You should be a doctor, Hop Sing. You do good work."
Hop Sing nodded again. "I give Mistah Adam broth of bayberry bark, beet root, ginseng, willow bark and red clover."
Doc Martin had heard of these things. Bayberry bark was said to prevent hemorrhages; beet root was purported to clean the liver and the spleen; ginseng was used to promote energy; willow bark was an effective pain reliever; red clover had often been used as a blood purifier. The Indians commonly used these herbs for healing. Also, the pioneers on the wagon trains had used the same herbal remedies for the same reasons.
Doc Martin covered Adam's bruised ribs with the cold towels, covered him up again, and turned his attention back to Adam's head.
"This wound needs some stitches," the doctor said, reaching for his bag. As he sewed up the deep cut, Hoss and Little Joe watched and talked to each other.
"Where's Pa?" Hoss asked.
"On his way back from that meeting in Placerville," came the answer. "I told Roy what happened. He promised to tell Pa as soon as he got back."
"That dadburned jughead!" Hoss muttered, referring to the wild mustang which Adam had been trying to break. "Ain't nobody been able to break him for over three days now. Adam jist had to try one more time. I shoulda stopped him."
"Hoss," Little Joe said gently, "Adam was bound and determined to break that horse. You know how he is when he sees a good challenge. Nobody could stop him from trying again. Nobody could've known that this would happen. Adam doesn't get thrown many times, much less stomped on. At least the guys got to that horse before it did any more damage."
Joe looked over at the doctor who had finished with the last of the stitches and was wrapping Adam's head in a gauze bandage. The job being finished, the doctor turned to the two brothers. "Has he spoken at all?"
"Nope," Hoss answered. "He's groaned some but he ain't been awake to say nothin'."
Doc Martin began a careful examination of Adam's arms and legs, deliberately trying to inflict some pain to see if he could elicit any response from his patient. Adam groaned as his feet and toes were roughly pinched; involuntary movements caused his legs to twitch and flex. The same things happened with his fingers and arms.
"Doc!" shouted Joe. "Stop hurting him!"
Turning ruefully to look at Joe, Doc Martin shook his head. "It's gotta be done, Little Joe. I need to know if he has feeling in his feet and fingers. It's a good thing to see that he does have feeling and tries to move away. That tells me that his back isn't broken. The fact that he groans tells me that his vocal chords work. It's an excellent sign that he is breathing on his own and there is no damage to the part of the spinal chord that controls voluntary and involuntary responses."
"Then why don't he wake up?"
"Hoss, he has a severe concussion. He might not wake up right away. Hop Sing's poultice stopped the bleeding on the outside, but I can't be sure that there isn't still some bleeding inside the skull. Give it some time." Doc washed his hands in the basin, almost knocking it to the floor, as a startled as Ben strode through the door.
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While Ben sat by his eldest son's bedside, Doc Martin told him the same things that he had told Hoss and Little Joe. Then the two brothers recounted how Adam had been adamant about trying for the fourth time to break the roan mustang, how Adam had been thrown and then stomped on by the angry horse before any of the hands had been able to stop the animal. Ben smoothed Adam's hair back gently, a frown creasing his sad face.
Closing his medical bag, Doc spoke to Ben. "I'll be back later to check on Adam. I'll leave some pills if he starts to run a fever. Crush them and put them in some chamomile tea. Hop Sing says that Adam has no trouble swallowing little sips of liquid. And keep giving him liquids – any kind – beef broth or chicken broth or water so he doesn't dehydrate."
As he turned to leave the room, Ben reluctantly left Adam's side and walked downstairs with the doctor.
"How bad is it?" Ben got right to the point.
"Adam's a strong man. His ribs will heal and so will that hard head of his. Unless there are unforeseen complications, he'll recover just fine."
And Adam's ribs did heal, as did the wound on his head. But there was an "unforeseen complication."
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Four days passed – long days in which Adam remained unconscious. Doc Martin had visited the Ponderosa every day and continued to say the same thing: "Adam's brain has become swollen and needs time to heal. Be patient. Keep the fluids going and tell Hop Sing to start adding some honey to the glasses of water. Honey is a good source of sugar and will help promote some energy."
Ben ran his fingers through his gray hair. "Hop Sing is still giving him all those roots and herbs. Should he stop?"
Doc Martin smiled. "Indians have been using roots and herbs for centuries. None of them will hurt Adam, and they may be helping. But don't stop the beef and chicken broths – both are excellent for medicinal purposes. Although he has had some fever, Adam is showing good signs of healing in his ribs; he also is responding better to pain stimuli. There is no sign that a lung has been punctured – his breathing has stopped sounding so raspy and labored. I'll be back later on this afternoon to check him again."
Climbing into his buggy, the doctor waved and drove away. Ben turned to look into the worried faces of Hoss, Little Joe and Hop Sing. All they could do was follow the doc's orders and wait.
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Ten days later, through a foggy mist, Adam heard voices. Quickly he learned that sitting up wasn't a very good idea – his head banged and throbbed, and there was a dull burning in his chest. He quickly put his head back down on the pillow, reached up and felt the bandages around his head. Lowering his hands to his chest, he felt bandages around his ribs also. He moved his legs and shifted to a more comfortable position in bed. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, he turned his face toward the door and saw a man entering the room. The man had gray hair, broad shoulders and, suddenly, a big smile lit up his face.
"Welcome back!" the man said.
"Thanks," Adam croaked. "Where am I and who are you?"
Confusion crossed the gray-haired man's face. "Son, it's me. Pa."
Now Adam was confused. He had never seen this man's face before.
"Where am I?" Adam croaked again.
"At home, son. In your room." The man drew the chair closer and sat down.
"My room?" Adam echoed. He looked around and saw shelves full of books and papers. There was a guitar sitting in a chair by a large window. Nothing looked familiar to him.
The gray-haired man rose from the chair, went to the door, and called out unfamiliar names. There were heavy footsteps and into the room came two more men. One was a giant of a man, tall and broad-shouldered with blue eyes; the other seemed younger, was lithe but muscular.
"Hey, Adam!" grinned the giant. "I shore am glad to see you awake. I thought you was gonna sleep forever!"
The younger man spoke. "If you're trying to get out of spring round-up, this will probably do it."
Adam's face was almost frightened. "Who are you?"
The gray-haired man took Adam's hand. "These are your brothers, Adam. Hoss and Little Joe. Don't you remember?"
Into the room rushed an Oriental man, bearing a cup of steaming liquid. "Here, Mistah Adam. Drink this. It help bring back strength."
Adam sipped the broth which soothed his raspy throat. "Who are you?"
The cook looked highly insulted. "Hop Sing. Chief cook on the Ponderosa! Who you think I am?"
Adam rubbed his head. "I don't know. I've never seen any of you before in my life."
Without taking his eyes from his son's face, Ben said quietly to Little Joe, "Get Doc Martin. And fast!"
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Having completed Adam's in-depth examination and the removal of the head stitches, Doc Martin closed his medical bag. "Get lots of rest and let those ribs heal," he said. "Your head wound is healing nicely, but here are some powders to take if you have trouble with headaches. I'll stop in as often as I can to check on your progress. And it's time for you to start eating real food – your body and your mind need extra nutrition right now."
He left a bewildered Adam and went downstairs. Ben, Hoss, Little Joe and Hop Sing got quickly to their feet. Each face wore a worried expression.
"We need to talk," said the doctor. "Let's sit down and discuss what's going on with Adam."
Everybody sat. The only sound was that of Hop Sing pouring a steaming mug of coffee for the doctor.
"You know that Adam suffered a concussion – we've discussed that already. Physically, his ribs are mending nicely and we can be thankful that his lung wasn't punctured. His head wound will leave a scar, but that will be hidden by his hair." The doctor sipped his coffee and leaned back wearily. "The problem right now is that Adam has a case of total amnesia. He didn't know who I was at all and he doesn't recognize any of you. He has no idea that the woman in the picture by his bed is his own mother. I hope you don't mind, but I told him who she was before I left his room. I wanted to give him some feeling of family. He doesn't know about Inger or Marie yet."
Hoss's blue eyes were steady. "I'm not so shore as I know what this 'amnesia' is. Explain it to me where I kin understand."
Smiling, Doc Martin spoke. "Amnesia, from what we know, is totally mentally-related. Apparently it can come from a great mental shock of some kind or it can be the result of some kind of physical trauma. In Adam's case, we know he was thrown from a horse and was trampled, so that tells me that his case of amnesia is due to physical trauma. My guess is that his brain swelled and hasn't returned to normal yet. Amnesia is like a door closing on a few yesterdays or, in Adam's case, the door has closed on his entire life. He has no idea who he is or who any of you are."
Ben leaned forward. "How long will this 'amnesia' last?"
Shrugging his shoulders, the doctor sipped his coffee. "Ben, we just don't know that much about the mind yet. There are new doctors who specialize in studying the brain and I have read about them and their work in my newest medical journals. Apparently, for some people, memories return in days. Or weeks. Or sometimes not at all."
The silence was overwhelming. Ben rubbed his forehead; Hoss looked down at the floor.
"So there's nothing we can do?" Little Joe asked.
"Yes, there are some things you can do," the doctor answered. "You can treat Adam like you always have. Be supportive of him. But don't push him in any way to try to make him remember. Let his memory come back naturally in its own time. Let him roam around wherever he wants to. Let him live his life normally while his body is healing. He's very confused and frightened right now, and the stress he's putting on himself to remember things is not helping him. The more natural each of you acts, the more relaxed he might become. That 'closed door' may open sooner than we can hope."
Heads nodded in understanding.
"I'd like to send a wire to a doctor in San Francisco. He specializes in something called 'psychiatry' which is basically the study of the brain, how it works and why it works. He may be of great help in Adam's situation. Or we can wait and see if Adam's memory returns quickly. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I don't mean to sound negative, but Adam's total memory loss isn't a good sign. And he's quite upset – understandably so."
"What would you do if this were your son?"
"Ben, if this were my son, I would see if Dr. Montrose would take on this case. I'd try to get any help I could from someone who is knowledgeable in these matters."
Little Joe leaned forward. "Will Adam have to go to San Francisco?"
Doc Martin shook his head. "I don't know, Little Joe. My own personal opinion is that Adam is better off here in his own home with things that may cause him to remember more quickly. But I'll ask and see if you all agree on sending the wire."
Ben didn't hesitate. And neither did his sons or Hop Sing. "Send the wire immediately. The worst thing that could happen is that Adam will regain his memory and we'll have to send another wire canceling any plans that are made."
Rising from his chair, Doc Martin smiled. "I'll send the wire immediately when I get back to town. And I'll drop by tomorrow to check again on Adam. Maybe we'll hear from Dr. Montrose by then."
Amid a chorus of "thank you's," Doc Martin made his exit and climbed into his buggy. His biggest fear was that Adam had sustained irreparable brain damage – but he couldn't bring himself to tell Ben of his feelings. And, though the hour was late upon his arrival in Virginia City, the kind doctor hurried into the telegraph office to send a most important wire to San Francisco.