CHAPTER EIGHT – Zorro's Medical History
About an hour later, a carriage pulled up outside the house. Felipe's paint was tied to the back of the carriage, for now. Felipe and Dr. Hernandez hurried in the front door, where Alejandro waited for them.
"Dr. Hernandez. Thank you so much for coming."
"It's no problem, Don Alejandro. Felipe tried to tell me, but I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what's going on, except that it concerns Diego."
"I'll explain. No doubt you heard the other day, Diego's right arm was injured in a sword fight with the Emissary. The day after, he had an accident in the Library that re-injured it. He has developed a fever, and the wound is inflamed. He spent most of yesterday in bed. This morning he fell again in the Library, and he has some bumps and bruises on his head from his tumble the other day.
Dr. Hernandez listened intently to the tale. "Thank you, Don Alejandro. If you will show me to Diego's room, I'll be with you after I see Diego."
"Felipe, please show him. I'll wake up the cook and see if we can get some breakfast ready."
Diego was a bit restless. Felipe showed Dr. Hernandez in.
"Felipe, can you show me what you've already tried with Diego?"
Felipe pointed to the end table where the bandages and ointments are. The small bottle of alcohol was also there. There were remnants of the cactus tea in a bowl as well. Dr. Hernandez sniffed it and made a terrible face.
"What's this?"
Felipe pointed to Diego, signed "his mixture."
"Thank you, Felipe. That will be all for now."
On his way out, Felipe took a long look at Diego. Worry lined his young face.
Dr. Hernandez gently shook Diego's left shoulder. "Diego! Diego, it's Dr. Hernandez! Wake up! I need to talk to you."
Diego stirred. He was more lucid now that he was back in bed. From time to time during the conversation, he shivered with fever. The doctor sponged his forehead occasionally wiping off perspiration.
Diego tried to pull himself up further in bed. "Dr. Hernandez! What – what are you doing here?"
Hernandez put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't try to get up. Just let me examine you, all right?"
"Certainly, doctor." He shivered again.
"Let's have a look at that arm, shall we? Here, let me help you with that."
Dr. Hernandez helped Diego take the nightshirt off from his right arm. As he unwound the bandage, he noticed several things. He looked at the wound, the shape, size, and color. He noticed a thin scar on his forearm. He looked at Diego's face. He examined his head and neck and noticed bumps and bruises in different stages of healing. As he treated the wound and re-bandaged it, he talked with Diego.
"First of all tell me how you, Diego de la Vega, managed to get a musket wound. Who shot you?"
Diego looked at him with shock. "I – I – beg your pardon?"
With gentle, no-nonsense authority, the kindly doctor said, "You heard me. I've been your doctor since you were a child. How did you get shot?"
Diego stared at him a moment. But his eyes moved from side to side – his mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say. The jaw tensed up. He looks like a caged fox, Hernandez thought. And it all came together for him.
"I am your doctor, Diego, and as such, keep confidences for all my patients, even those who rescue their horse from the cuartel in broad daylight."
Diego's eyes opened wide. He took a sharp breath, gulped air too quickly, causing him to cough.
"What are you saying, Doctor?"
"Diego, I know a musket wound when I see it, even though it's been stitched. Your father doesn't know, does he?"
Diego sighed. His left hand went up in surrender.
"No, he doesn't. How did you?"
"I happened to be crossing the plaza, and I looked up at the commotion and the duel on the roof and what happened to both parties. Yours is the first musket wound I've seen since that day. That – and your expression just now – you looked like a caged fox."
Diego said nothing. The doctor continued.
"I've had my suspicions for years. Your explanations, though sounding plausible to untrained ears, seemed a bit ridiculous. No one, not even a clumsy caballero could have all those 'accidents' unless he was trying to hide something."
"Take for instance that concussion several years ago. It was Toronado who threw you, and you fell about 30-50 feet, am I right, instead of falling six feet from your father's old mare?"
Diego nodded. He was stunned.
"And your head now. Do you have any double vision or severe headaches?"
Diego said, "Headaches, but no double vision."
"As I look at these bumps and bruises, they appear to be in different stages. What happened?"
"The Library happened to me. Diablo Canyon happened to Zorro a couple of days ago. He was buried under a pile of rocks and if it hadn't been for that horse he rescued…"
"...then he would still be under that pile, wouldn't he? Thank heaven for Toronado."
"Yes, thank heaven. Doctor…." A tear came to Diego's eye, thinking of what might have happened.
Dr. Hernandez put a hand on his shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me Diego. And please…come to me as Diego or Zorro whenever you need me. I'll help you make up a story for how Diego got hurt – that will sound more plausible than falling off a mare six feet."
The kindly doctor smiled at Diego, who looked up with an undetermined look on his face. The doctor said, "I know you've been doing this on your own for a long time. Let me help you. That way I'll feel like I'm contributing."
Diego thought for a moment. "All right, I'll make a bargain with you Doctor – whenever you're available, and my injuries warrant, I'll come to you or send for you. But it's very dangerous to know this secret."
"We have a deal then…and while I'm here, can you tell me about that scar on your forearm?"
Diego looked at it and remembered. "Oh that. A rattler bit me one day a couple years ago when I was…escaping bounty hunters. It's a long story."
Dr. Hernandez shook his head. "Here, drink this. We'll still have about 15 minutes before it takes effect. It could make you drowsy. I know you've slept a lot already, but this should also work to help reduce the fever and for pain."
He handed Diego a small bottle. "Down the hatch." Then, he continued. Diego upended the bottle and drank.
"What else should I know about? I really need to know your medical history as Zorro. I am your doctor. I won't write it down except as some sort of official 'accident' in my records under your name. But I need to know."
Diego sighed in surrender. "Since I'm being candid, Doctor, I think there's something else you should know. The accident in the library wasn't the first time the wound re-opened...probably the third or fourth. I accidently opened it up a day or so after, and the Emissary deliberately opened it up during our fight the other day. It was the final proof he knew who I was."
"Was it taken care of?"
"Yes, but it's possible there was time for exposure to infection. We cleaned it the best we could." Diego paused a moment, thinking. "So…you want my medical history as Zorro…."
Diego's mind began to think back.
"Well, let's see…there was that concussion, snakebite. I had another concussion while 'vacationing' in France a couple of years ago. I totally recovered. I was interrogated as well, but those were superficial. I have a sword scar towards the back of my left leg. De Soto had a lucky throw one day. Oh, remind me sometime to tell you more about Hiroshi. He has a remarkable technique to instantly take pain away… if I only knew how to recreate it. You know about the broken leg, you took care of that. That was a Diego injury. Let's see…other Zorro injuries…um…oh…"
Diego moved his nightshirt to show him a short scar on his left shoulder. "…this is a gift from Colonel Palomarez, when he poisoned me."
Dr. Hernandez responded with great surprise. "Good heavens! I remember now. He said Zorro was a dead man. How did you survive?"
Diego replaced the nightshirt. "I tricked him into showing me where the antidote was. Let's see – what else? Oh, about six months ago, the alcalde and I drank some tainted water outside the pueblo, but the effects were very temporary."
Dr. Hernandez shook his head. "What were the symptoms?"
"Well, uh, fever, abdominal pain, and temporary blindness. It was all very temporary. Within a few hours, all symptoms vanished. I blew up the offending stream later – so no one else would be poisoned."
"My, but you have had adventures, haven't you? Anything else to report?"
"Shortly after that, in order to save the alcalde from being roasted by Indians, I took his punishment for him – to prove a point. But they were fairly superficial as well…cuts, lots of bruises, some scrapes."
As Diego related incident after incident, Dr. Hernandez looked at him in awe and wonder at the amazing capability his patient had for healing and survival.
"One reason I developed a laboratory was so that I could make discoveries that will not only help me, but others as well. Although I must admit that selfish reasons partially compelled me to begin research into pain and healing."
Dr. Hernandez shook his head in amazement. "I think we could learn from each other. I'm leaving some fever reducer, powders for pain. And Diego…remember what I said…please don't hesitate to send for me when you need me. The wound looks inflamed, but it's clean. We'll just have to wait and see. Get some rest now."
Dr. Hernandez packed up his bag and turned to leave. He nearly ran into Felipe at the door, bringing breakfast for Diego.
"Thank you Doctor." Diego waved to Dr. Hernandez and smiled at Felipe.
With a sigh of surrender, Diego said, "Ah Felipe. Breakfast in bed again…I guess."
TBC
