After performing some other tests, Roy emerged from the hut, his face pale and pulse racing. The rest of the castaways were gathered around the communal table. Obviously making dinner had been forgotten.
"Is Mary Ann okay, Professor?" Gilligan asked anxiously, fear overwhelmingly present in his brown eyes.
The Professor's breath caught for a moment, and he wondered if he should tell the first mate the truth.
Yes. He had to. Those sincere eyes couldn't be lied to.
"No Gilligan. She's not. I have reason to believe her vermiform appendix is inflamed, and if that is the case…"
"Her what?" Gilligan exclaimed, blushing fiercely.
"Her vermiform appendix, often just referred to as the appendix. It's an outgrowth of the large intestine. It doesn't really do anything, though some believe it may have been of more use when humans ate raw meat on a regular basis. But when it becomes inflamed—that's called appendicitis—it can cause great pain and become extremely hazardous to the body's well-being unless removed immediately in a procedure called an appendectomy. If left untended acute appendicitis can kill a person, especially if it causes peritonitis. Unfortunately, while simple for a doctor, an appendectomy is extremely difficult for a layman to perform. Oh, why couldn't my doctorate be in medicine instead of science?" He flung his medical supplies on the table and sat down on the bench, putting a hand to his face.
The Skipper's jaw was clenched, his muscles tense, but nonetheless he walked over to the teacher and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"This is no time to be guilt-tripping yourself, Professor," the captain said, his voice controlled, uncharacteristically calm. "Are you sure it's appendicitis?"
The younger man sighed. "I only wish I were sure of anything. I might have a better idea if I could do a white blood cell count…but that's out of the question."
"Gee, Professor, doesn't it take an awful long time to count every single blood cell?" Gilligan asked.
Roy felt too tired, too weighed down upon, too guilty to be annoyed. It was a perfectly innocent, and in a way, sensible question, wasn't it?
"One uses a machine to perform the task, Gilligan. Saves manual labor. Unfortunately, we don't have any such machine on this island."
"You can build everything else out of bamboo and coconuts. Why not something like that?" Mr. Howell asked, twisting his handkerchief a little, but not so much that anyone could tell he was really worried.
"Mr. Howell, I'm not sure you understand the severity of the situation. Mary Ann may have hours, I repeat, hours left to live unless something is done. Even if I could build such a thing, and I sincerely doubt I could, it would take days at the least."
"Are you going to…operate?" Mrs. Howell squeaked, obviously cringing at the very word.
The Professor's face fell. "I—we can't unless we're sure. It could be a horrible mistake…"
"Then what do you suggest we do? Sit around and watch her die?" Mr. Howell snapped. His face softened and pain slowly began carving a design in it. "Professor…" he said raspily, "You have to do something."
"No. I can't do anything. Mary Ann isn't safe in my hands."
"What do you mean?" the Skipper asked, looking at Roy in total disbelief.
"Just what I said!" the teacher barked. "Whatever I do would be hazardous to her safety."
"Less hazardous than if any of us did it." Ginger pointed out, giving a sideways glance at Gilligan.
Roy sighed. "I'm…I'm sorry. You can use any of my books, my tools, anything."
As he began to get up from the table, the Skipper firmly took hold of his arm and jerked him the rest of the way to his feet.
"Professor, I know this must be a stressful situation, but we're counting on you. You can't just walk out on us."
The scientist laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yes I can. Very easily." Tearing his extremity from the captain's grasp, he stormed away from the table and those at it. Breaking into a run, he made it into the jungle.
Stressful, Skipper? Yes, sir. More stressful than your like has ever known…