CHAPTER XXXIX
Tall Trees, Glen St Mary
Dear Sarah,
You'll be wanting to know about Gil before anything else I expect. What a good lad he is, though he will keep doing. He seems to live on fresh air and nothing else. His appetite has yet to improve, but as we say round here: A good sea breeze fills a body like good bread. I'll have to tie him to the table to get him to sit down and write to you. When I see him that is – he's always off somewhere. Or has his nose in some fusty old text. My Dr Dave has had to ban your boy from the library, he's liable to read until three in the morning otherwise.
"Aunty Pearl," Gil says, "I need more kerosene for my lamp!"
We put those books under lock and key, but he won't be bested. If we keep him from studying it only makes him more determined to learn by other means. Don't I wish you could have seen our spaniel on Tuesday, covered in bandages made from calico remnants! Or was that the day he made up onion poultices? Sarah, the stink! Gil got such a headache. Well, that's Glen onions for you.
We're still wanting to get some meat on his bones, so my Dr Dave wants Gil as a sort of delivery boy – says good long walks to the shore and back are "just what the doctor ordered." There's four families at Harbour Mouth needing visits twice or thrice a week. But Gil is under strict instructions to leave all their fresh dressings and whatnot on the doorstep and be on his way. He's not a doctor yet! Though I must say, Sarah dear, he will make such a good one.
Now, that Lowbridge doctor on the other hand...
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June 19th 1887
Tall Trees, Glen St Mary
Dear Sarah,
Let me reassure you that your boy is fine. Those headaches he's been getting finally stopped only hours after I posted my last letter. As soon as I got home there was Gil on the front porch dissecting a cone flower – or as he called it, echinacea. I always found them ugly myself, though they do a power of good and certainly had some effect on the boy. That glinty look the Glen girls go mad for has all but returned, I'd say.
I had half a mind to go back to the post office and ask for that last letter back. I would have too if Mrs. Saul (who is an Elliot, but there's no use calling her that when half the Glen are Elliots!) wasn't working there today. If I spied my letter in her fat little hand that woman would still refuse to return it. "Rules is rules," she loves to say – no doubt they'll carve it on her tombstone! So forgive me if I worried you, dear. Gil is a little tired but very much recovered.
My herb garden, on the other hand, I believe Gil would lop the seed heads from every bush if I let him. What did you say it was you planted alongside your tomatoes...
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June 30th, 1887
Tall Trees, Glen St Mary
Dear John,
I have some concerns about Gil, and think it best he returns to Avonlea. I believe Pearl mentioned he's had some head pain. We did think it improving but it now comes with increasing frequency, and there are fresh symptoms which are giving me pause. No need to worry your wife with this, John, but I have just diagnosed two Harbour Mouth lads with typhoid fever. That is not to say your boy has anything of the sort, only that I wish him away from the Glen when he is already unwell.
You can expect him on the first train to Bright River on Monday morning. Don't be alarmed to see him accompanied by Miss Ada Corke, who can apprise you of Gil's condition. If he should improve she is to return to us at the end of the week. If not, John my boy, Ada is a trained nurse and at your disposal for as long as you have need of her.
Keep me informed as to any developments and give my best to Sarah,
David Blythe
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July 4th 1887
Allwinds, Avonlea
Dear Uncle Dave,
Gil is arrived and Miss Corke is settled in the spare room. He wasn't good I have to say. We had to lay him down in the back of the wagon he was that weak from the journey. He's got terrible chills, but it's the headaches seem the worst. Blinding fierce and go on for hours. He ain't complaining though I know it pains him. Sarah bought him a new book and he hasn't even opened it.
Tell me now if you've had any others come down with the fever, are you sure you can spare your nurse? There's already trouble brewing in this quarter. Miss Corke is one for fresh air and ventilation and Sarah wants to keep Gil warm. The windows are all open for now, but maybe write to Sarah yourself as to Gil's particular care. She's like a wounded bear with a cub right now, so any instructions are best coming from you.
Love to Aunty Pearl,
John
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July 10th 1887
Allwinds, Avonlea
Dear Dr Blythe,
Regarding your nephew, enteric phenomena are now confirmed. There is severe abdominal tenderness with attendant gurgling sound to the right side, and all subsequent symptoms suggestive of typhoid excepting rose coloured spots to the abdomen. He has been confined to bed and a bedpan (not always willingly) in order to prevent infection from spreading to the rest of the household. Fortunately, Mrs. Blythe maintains scrupulous hygiene and has good supplies of fresh linen and disinfecting agents to keep the patient clean and comfortable. Unfortunately, she refuses to heed my order to avoid all contact with her son, and has five (possibly six) cats.
I have her making up solutions and tinctures to ease his discomfort, and would like to know of a suitable replacement for gelesium. The patient currently has a dark red colour to his face, and a large, soft pulse, which I am treating with arnica. However, Mrs. Blythe informs me he has shown signs of delirium in the early hours of last night and I know that gelesium given with aconite provides the best results.
Temperature settles at 102 (up to 104 in the evening). As it reaches the latter with more frequency I will discontinue fever diet and administer water and diluted liquids only – starting with 60 ounces over 24 hours. Nosebleeds have ceased, but as fever heightens sores to mouth and tongue are worsening, though a white oak solution of Dr Spencer's is meeting with success. I have included the making of it below.
Shall send this presently. Mr. Blythe informs me if I manage to get a letter away with the first post you will have received it by tomorrow afternoon. That being so I would appreciate a response by Friday.
Respectfully, A. Corke
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July 16th 1887
Tall Trees, Glen St Mary
Dear Sarah,
Allow me to be plain, my dear. No one doubts your care but Ada Corke has invaluable experience with this particular fever, which is why I sent her to Allwinds. I ask you to heed her advice, particularly the sponge baths. No doubt you and Dr Spencer have good reason to prefer wet sheet packs, but I must insist that the sponge baths be allowed to continue.
I know there is no point my asking you again to keep contact with Gil to a minimum. That being so you may administer the baths yourself, though please be sure to add 30 grains of ammonia (no rubbing alcohol) to one pint of water, and begin with the head, torso and limbs in that order. You must ensure each part of his body is thoroughly dried before proceeding to the next. You want to cool his fever, not chill him.
I am frustrated to hear that hypocymus is having no effect on his temperature and give you leave to follow Dr Spencer's suggestion.
My best to you, dear, and to John. There is no denying your boy is having the worst of it, but I believe he can pull through. Pearl sends her love and says to tell you she writes directly.
Yours, David Blythe
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July 19th 1887
Allwinds, Avonlea
Dear Pearl,
John has sent me to bed but how can I sleep? Nothing is working. Every day his fever gets higher. I went to scold Ada for leaving a dry cloth on Gilbert's head instead of a cool, wet one and she said, it was a cool and wet one not a minute before.
Is there really nothing you can think of that might take the fever down? Do you know of any unorthodox treatments? What about on the mainland, have they access to cures that we don't? I can't be asking these experts, they just shoo me away. But you understand I have to do something. It's killing him, Pearl, and all I can do is boil sheets and watch him be taken from me.
I'm in such knots. I keep thinking if we hadn't insisted Gilbert try to win that scholarship he would still be well. He worked so hard, I could have wept when I saw how pale and thin he'd got when we went attended Convocation. Nothing like the big brown boy I'd grown from a tiny babe. Remember what a time I had after his birth, how I always teased him never to put me through that again? Pearl, this is nothing to those days.
He's in such pain. When he's awake he chews on his lip to keep from crying out, and when he sleeps – I used to wish he would sleep. Now it scares me. It's like there's some terrible wound inside him. The things he is saying. One friend of his in particular seems very much in his thoughts. John and I are torn over whether we should fetch her, hoping perhaps her presence may calm him some. But that nurse is adamant no one else is to be admitted.
Pearl, I am terrified I shall never survive it if he dies. I'm beginning to hate the sun for daring to shine. I beg you please, send me something, some hope I can cling to.
Yours, truly
Sarah
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July 21th 1887
Allwinds, Avonlea
Dear Uncle Dave,
I'm sure it'll come as no surprise when I ask if you know a good sleeping draft for Sarah. Ada's attempted one or two different teas but that wife of mine won't touch them. "I don't need sleep," she says, "I need for our boy to get well."
We just discovered her standing on Gil's bed trying to remove some brass tacks from the ceiling. Not sure how to account for them being there in the first place, but Sarah believes Gil is upset to look at them. He is muttering all sorts of gibberish. It's a terrible thing to witness, though not without surprises.
Late last evening Ada and I were trying to recall the name of that herb used to dull sharp, cutting sensations. We're all a little worn down at the moment, as I'm sure are you. Pearl made mention there's been four new cases at Harbour Mouth, and I want to thank you again for sparing Ada like you did. Well, neither of us could think of the name of that confounded plant. We stood there like stunned fish, thinking Gil insensible, when just like that he shouts out: bryonia! And bless me if he wasn't right!
I have this sense that even now our boy is determined to fight his way out. I keep telling him all the things he has to live for. I don't know if he hears me, but it helps to say it out loud.
Wishing I had better news, but I hold out hope. Blythes don't go down easy, we never did and don't plan to now.
John
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July 23rd 1887
Allwinds, Avonlea
Dear Pearl,
The next time I write it will be to tell you that the fever has broken or it's killed him.
There's a storm blowing up tonight. Last week I would have stood right in it and let out such a scream. Now I've got to that place where I would rather bury my son than have him suffer one more minute. I'm not frightened anymore. Just numb. My only hope if Gilbert dies is that I stay that way.
He called out tonight. I ran to his room and saw he had flung himself out of his bed, when he hasn't lifted his head from his pillow for nigh on a week. He's so thin, like a child in my arms. I suppose I should have called on Ada or John, but holding him like that made me think of him as my baby again and I couldn't let him go. I felt him shake against my shoulder. I thought he was convulsing. Pearl, he was crying. His body is so parched he can no longer make tears. I sought to calm him as best I could, though it flayed me to the bone to see him that way. And to hear him. Pearl, there is nothing so unendurable as to hear your child plead with you –
I want to live. Please, please let me live.
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July 23rd ~ Green Gables
Gilbert
Please you have to live
I love you and you have to live.
...