Chapter XIII:
A little excitement finally reached the little
hospital where she was still stationed. For almost a month they
had had nothing but minor patients heading in and out of the
place. Now, they were informed that in a matter of moments,
truckloads of men coming from an earlier attack would arrive. The
surge that followed the news was excitement, anxiousness, and
apprehension all at once.Marie promised herself she wouldn't get
more involved than she needed to. Say a kind word, smile a
little, and move on. No names, no questions, no nothing.
The promise was broken sooner than she'd
expected. After they'd finally settled everyone into suitable
beds, she began to make her rounds. A young man, no more than
nineteen was alone, head tossing and turning, just coming back
from unconsiousness. She took up a basin of water and a cloth and
sat beside the bed. After a short scan, she realized it was his
leg that was injured, and quickly set to cutting his pant leg to
look at it.
It was a mess. Blood covered it in a thick
layer of red that made Marie turn away momentarily. The sight was
all too familiar to her, and despite the fact that her career
involved seeing such things, it made her stomach turn. Upon
turning back, she found that there were other problems besides
the initial bullet wound she had discovered. The most distinct
problem was the smell... a putrid, almost gaseous smell that did
nothing to ease the already growing discomfort in her stomach.
After cleaning the blood from his leg she began
to check for other symptoms. An idea formed in the back of her
mind, but it was one she did not wish to pay attention to. Not at
the present time anyway. Peeling off a glove, she closed her eyes
to get her mind in order enough to concentrate on what she was
doing. After she was comfortable, she touched his bare leg, and
was startled by the cold she felt in it. A sharp gasp from her
patient made her remove her hand and look up. Forcing a fake
smile, she moved forward in her chair to look at him. "Hey
there. Welcome back."
"Back...?"
"How you feelin'?"
"Hot..." It was not the answer she
wanted to hear, but somehow, she expected it. All other signs
pointed to her worst fears.
"Ah reckon you would be. Ah'm gonna put
this cloth on your forehead... it'll help with tha fever."
After doing so, she quickly comforted him as best she could,
promising to return as soon as she could. Convinced he would be
all right for the moment, she went to seek out a doctor.
"Dr.McCoy, may Ah speak with you a
moment?"
"Of course." She knew he saw the
startled, unhappy look on her features, because his lips quickly
turned into a frown and his eyebrows curved downward.
"What's the matter?"
"There's a young man, just come in from
tha last attack. Bullet wound."
"Just below the knee. Yes, I saw him
earlier. What of him?"
"There's a pungent smell accompanying the
wound... his leg is ice cold... and he's suffering from a high
fever." Marie watched as his frown grew deeper and his eyes
squinted some in frustration.
"Gangrene?"
"What else could it be?" It was
distressing to her. She didn't even know the boy, and already her
heart went out to him. He was too young to have to handle
something like this. She tried to remember the promise she made
to herself as she lead the doctor back to him. She stood by his
side, trying to talk to him, comfort him, and most of all block
him from seeing the worry spreading over the doctor's face.
"What is it?"
"Nothin' kid... you just rest."
"Tell me."
"Shhh..." Since he couldn't see the
doctor, Marie's best guess was that she wasn't hiding her
emotions as well as she thought she'd been. What could she do?
Tell him? Certainly not. Not right away, anyway. After hearing
the doctor clear his throat, she turned from the boy and followed
him out of sight.
"Gangrene?"
"Most definitely."
"What can we do about it?"
"There's only one thing to do about it.
Though I hate the thought of it... we'll have to amputate.
There's no other way. If we hesitate and attempt a different
cure, it will only develop into a worse case and cause more
trouble. If we act now, however, he'll be able to keep more of
the leg."
"But doctor... he's so young..."
"There's no other way."
"Yes sir." With that, she left,
slipping into her room, to write Logan a response. She needed
someone to talk to, and since it couldn't be in person, a letter
would have to do.
Logan,
We had a large transfer of patients today.
With them came a young man... no more than nineteen. I reminded
myself, after you left, that I couldn't get involved in any more
lives. I couldn't care. I wouldn't care. Is that terrible of me?
To disregard them as men, and to think of them as no more than
cases? The man over in bed three with the eye problem... or the
boy over in bed seven with the flu... It seems so wrong to me.
How do you help someone if you aren't willing to care in the
process? But how do you care without ending up hurt? Is there
some kind of in between?
He had a bullet wound, just below the knee.
Bad. I knew from the minute I stripped away the pantleg and
smelled it. The cold and the fever only confirmed it. Gangrene.
And there's nothing any of us can do here. There have been
techniques put into practice to try and help it... but none seem
to work. The only sure fire cure is amputation. I know it's the
only way, Logan, but I hate it all the same. He's too young to
have to live with only one leg! He has barely begun to live as it
is...
It's just not fair. I know what you're
thinking. "Marie, life ain't fair." All I want to know
is... why not?
Keep writing Logan, it's all I've got left.
Love always,
Marie