Surgery:
Aramis poured wine over the left side of Athos, who was propped on his right side with several pillows. Cécile dried the area with a soft cloth and then moved to the head of the bed. She stood out of the way but ready with necessary tools, linen cloths for swabbing, and water for the surgery.
M. Molyneux gently cut through Aramis' basting stitches, easily reopening the wound. "We shall get rid of these temporary stitches and close up these wounds for good. That is the hope, anyway, Aramis."
"I think Athos is more than ready to close up these wounds up for good," Aramis nodded.
"If you could pull the edges together and hold, I will run the needle through. . ." Molyneux instructed Aramis as he worked. "Very good, Aramis. Perhaps, if we work together at this speed and proficiency, we will have surgery done much faster than we thought."
The sick Musketeer in the infirmary awoke, coughing heavily, before vomiting over the edge of his bed once again. Molyneux and Aramis exchanged angry glances, each shaking their heads.
"Aramis, could you hold the needle for a moment?" Molyneux placed a linen cloth loosely over Athos' nose and mouth so he wasn't breathing in germs.
"I should have thought to cover him with a mask this morning, doctor." Cécile shook her head, sadly. "Actually, I should have moved Athos' face away when Doctor Senne brought the sick Musketeer by his bedside."
"Cécile, we already went over this." Aramis chastised her lamenting. "I will speak to the captain about Doctor Senne."
"I hope there are no more sick men brought in here," Molyneux said. "If there are more, we will have to move Athos somewhere else to recover."
The two healers went about working on Athos in relative silence, too concentrated on their delicate work for much chatter.
Doctor Molyneux placed the stitches in an even, close pattern for less scarring on the skin and less chance for tearing as it healed. "How does that look to you, Aramis?" The physician stepped back to mop a towel over his face and take a long drink of water.
"Looks very good, doctor. It looks every bit as good—no, it looks better—than his first stitching."
"Thank you, but don't let M. Berteau hear you say that." Molyneux laughed, as did Cécile. "I am flattered you would say it, however. M. Berteau is the best physician I know."
"You both are the best physicians I know," Aramis said, matter-of-factly. "May I ask you a question, doctor?"
"Of course," Molyneux answered.
"You are such a talented physician, why aren't you working at a hospital, such as Hôtel-Dieu here in Paris, where you can offer more people your services?"
"Have you ever gone into those hospitals, Aramis?" Molyneux shook his head. "They are frightful, barbaric places. I would never wish to be a patient inside a hospital; nor would I want to be a physician at one, unless absolutely necessary. You are more qualified than many of the doctors at the hospital, Aramis. Those so-called physicians have patients under their care, yet many of these same patients do not live through their prescribed treatment. It is terribly frightful."
"I think that is the general consensus among, at least, my three brother Musketeers and me." Aramis said quietly, his voice low. "We'd rather be treated anywhere but here in this infirmary. I have been encouraged to hone my skills as a medic because my three brothers won't seek treatment from anyone else."
"That is quite a compliment to your skill. Unfortunate, however, for the rest of the Musketeers who do not have the same access to your skills, Aramis." Molyneux said, raising his eyebrows.
"I do help the other men of the regiment too, when I am available," Aramis said.
"Alright, Athos is finished on his left side." Molyneux informed the team. "Aramis, let us begin stitching up his right side. Cécile, if you could help prop the pillows while we turn Athos?"
"Of course, doctor."
"Alright, let's be very careful as we turn him to his other side. Together. . . now turn." The men turned the patient while Cécile stuffed the pillows behind Athos' back to keep him on his side.
The same efficient work was done on the right side without much chatter. The two healers repeated the same even stitches, though the damage was not as severe.
Molyneux swabbed Athos with a healthy amount of brandy to prevent infection around the wound. He then allowed ample time for the area to dry before wrapping the wound with clean linen cloths as bandages.
"We all must keep an eye on Athos and check both wounds frequently for infection. The signs will be redness around the wound or red lines going away from the wound; heat radiating around the wound; or pus draining from the wound." Molyneux stated, looking to Aramis and Cécile for acknowledgement.
"I think we are all too familiar with those symptoms with Athos, doctor. I do not wish to go through that experience ever again." Aramis shuddered at the memory of his very ill friend on the edge of death at the château.
"Well, let's hope that Athos doesn't have to go through it again. Surgery did go very well—I am quite pleased. It was an honor to work alongside you again, Aramis." Molyneux extended his hand to shake, while clapping the medic smartly on the shoulder.
"Thank you, M. Molyneux. The honor is all mine, believe me."
Foreboding and Dread:
Molyneux turned to look at the other end of the infirmary as two more vomiting Musketeers were brought in. He shook his head, exchanging apprehensive glances with Aramis.
"What is going on around here, Aramis?" Cécile asked, her voice thick with alarm.
"I don't know." Aramis frowned as one of the men vomited over the side of his bed. "But this isn't good."
Just then, Captain Tréville brought in another sick Musketeer. "Aramis, I am glad to see that you are finished with Athos. We have men falling ill all around the garrison and I hear it is the same in the city. Something bad is going around and I could use your help with these sick men."
"Captain, we cannot let Athos be exposed to these sick men." Aramis looked around, incredulous. "The last thing he needs is to get sick!"
"I cannot help the illness going around, Aramis," the captain said abruptly. "There is nowhere else for all these sick men to go."
"Athos cannot stay in here, Captain," Aramis said, as more sick Musketeers were brought in. "He won't stand a chance of healing around all these men."
"We must move Athos from the infirmary to a private room immediately," Molyneux stated. "Aramis can tend to Athos, since he should only require observation at this point. Cécile and I will stay here in the infirmary to help you care for your sick men, Captain."
"Thank you, M. Molyneux." The captain readily agreed to the doctor's offer to help. "I will tell Porthos and d'Artagnan to get Athos' room ready for him to be moved over there."
~§~
"I normally would not condone moving a patient so soon after surgery but he cannot stay in here with these sick men." Molyneux was loath to admit.
"I can't help carry Athos, Aramis," d'Artagnan shook his head. "My arm is too sore and stiff; I would end up dropping him."
"What's wrong with your arm?" Aramis asked with concern
"It's getting really stiff and I can hardly move it." The Gascon rubbed his upper right arm, absently.
"Can you raise your arm up and hold it out like this, d'Artagnan?" Aramis raised his own arm, holding it out parallel with his shoulder to demonstrate.
"No, I've tried Aramis." D'Artagnan lifted his arm partially to his shoulder but winced at the pain it caused him. "It's getting so I can hardly move my arm at all; and it's really sore. I didn't think it was that bad earlier, but the pain is getting worse."
"Alright, that doesn't sound good," Aramis frowned. "I'll take a look at your arm once we get Athos moved."
"I happen to have some ingredients in my luggage that will aid in healing his arm," M. Molyneux said to Aramis. "I will give them to you after we move Athos."
"Thank you, doctor," Aramis nodded.
Molyneux took the Gascon's arm and peeled back the edge of the bandage so he could see the wound. "The wound appears to be healing well. The problem with your arm, d'Artagnan, is that you are not exercising it, which is why it's becoming so stiff."
"Exercising it how?" d'Artagnan asked.
"I'll instruct Aramis on the exercises you can do to help alleviate the stiffness; but you have to do them, d'Artagnan, or the stiffness will only worsen.
"I will make sure he does the exercises, doctor," Aramis nodded.
"What are the chances Athos will get sick too, doctor?" D'Artagnan quickly changed the subject.
"I do not know at this time whether Athos will become ill from the virus going around the garrison or not. However, these symptoms and effects are quite different than with sepsis, young man," M. Molyneux said.
"How is it different, doctor?" d'Artagnan asked.
"Sepsis is caused when a wound becomes infected and the bacteria enters into the bloodstream, which then goes on to infect the entire body—and it is usually fatal," Molyneux answered. "It is too early to determine what we are dealing with here at the garrison, whether it is a virus or not, so it is too early to determine how it will affect Athos."
"Damn," d'Artagnan muttered.
"Doctor. . ." Aramis hesitated.
"Yes, Aramis?" Molyneux sensed the hesitation. "What is it?"
"Is it possible that these men are suffering from catarrh?" Aramis surmised based on a medical essay he had read recently describing the symptoms of the men falling ill.
"Yes. . ." Molyneux's voiced trailed. "Indeed, it is quite possible that we have an epidemic of catarrh beginning both here and in the city. Catarrh is a contagious virus, easily spread from one victim to another. If Athos contracts catarrh, it would be a serious threat to his system and could be every bit as deadly as sepsis." Molyneux grimly shook his head.
"How long does it take for a patient to show symptoms of catarrh, M. Molyneux?" Cécile asked with hesitation. "The first sick patient was brought in here this morning and vomited on Athos' bed."
"If this is a viral epidemic as I now fear, it may already be too late for Athos." Molyneux shook his head sadly. "Athos would have been exposed to the contagious germs when that patient vomited on him."
"Oh God. . ." Aramis fell into a nearby chair, his ashen pallor expressing the fear he suddenly felt for his friend. "Athos may not have strength left to fight off another hit to his system. This could be the point to where he has been pushed beyond his ability to recover."
Thinking of his dream, Aramis shuddered. Maybe the funeral carriage in my dream was a foretelling of what would happen here at the garrison.
Aramis' heart sunk in his chest. "We may have brought Athos home to the garrison only to watch him die."
A/N:
The Hôtel-Dieu was founded by Saint Landry in 651, and is the first hospital in Paris, and the oldest still-operating hospital in the world. In 1772, a fire destroyed a large part of the Hôtel-Dieu, which was not rebuilt until the reign of Napoléon in the early 19th century.
Catarrh is the term used prior to the modern medical definition of influenza. The Italian term influenza (meaning to influence) was first used in 1703. Symptoms of catarrh include: inflammation of the mucous membranes in the nose and mouth, causing sneezing, coughing, thirst and lack of appetite. Worse cases of catarrh affect the respiratory system and the bronchial tract, causing severe coughing with bloody expectorant, inflammation of the lungs/fluid in the lungs, making it difficult to breathe with possible suffocation. Flu-like symptoms are also present with extreme vomiting
Catarrh, catarrhus a contagio, which is like influenza (the flu) or epidemic catarrh, would sometimes seize an entire city. In 1557, in a Spanish town near Madrid, catarrh killed 2,000 people. In 1918, an influenza pandemic killed between 50-100 million people.