Chapter 9: Out in the Field
After getting Arthur's call, Martin and Louisa drove out to the farm.
"We're going to be late for our own party," Louisa said.
"If it's the right dog then it shouldn't take too long."
"Now I know you don't want to go, Martin, but it'll be the last time you'll ever have to do this."
"I know, and I want to do it for you," he insisted.
"Well, it should mean a lot to both of us," she said. "They don't do this for everyone. I know you don't like it here, but people just want to say goodbye to us."
They drove up to the old farmhouse and got out of the car. Arthur came out to greet them, limping with a cane.
"Thank you so much for getting in touch with us," said Louisa. "We were getting very worried."
"No problem. I saw him racing across those fields, over there." Arthur pointed the way.
"We'll go and have a look," she said.
"How's your leg?" Martin wanted to know.
"It's a little bit sore. I'd have caught him otherwise."
They thanked him and drove over to the field. It was a wide open grassy hillside, where Martin remembered Joan had once kept sheep. It was now full of mooing cows. They began shouting for Chicken as they moved up the rather steep slope. Louisa was glad she was wearing her practical boots with her dress.
"You know you're wrong," said Martin. "I don't dislike Portwenn."
"Well, maybe not but you don't seem to like it much either."
Martin was flustered and unsure exactly what he felt about the village or how to express it. "I think that… it's the people."
The people! Louisa thought. The people are the village! "I'm a Portwenn person," was all she said.
"Obviously not all of them, but most of them. Not you, obviously."
"And so are your children!"
"Yes, uh, technically they are."
As they approached the crest of the hill they spotted the little dog amidst a herd of some two dozen brown, white, and black cows.
Louisa instinctively moderated her voice. "Chicken! Come here, Chicken! Come here, boy!" Martin began to call out too, in his loud booming voice. Louisa knew right away that was a mistake. "Oh no, no, Martin, you'll scare the cows!" The cows began to move as a herd toward them. "Martin, we should leave!"
Martin agreed. "Okay, nice and quickly."
They ran down the hill in a panic, as the huge beasts lumbered behind them, gathering momentum like a load of bricks tumbling down the steep hill. At the bottom Louisa half leapt and half fell over the stone and earthen berm fortified with barbed wire that marked the edge of the field. Martin tumbled over behind her, tearing open his jacket sleeve – and more.
Louisa got up and dusted herself off, assuring him that she was fine. "Are you okay?"
"No." Martin took off his jacket and cupped his hand over his upper arm. He already knew it wasn't good but it rapidly dawned on him he might actually be in serious trouble here. "I've cut myself. Oh my gawd, I need to put a tourniquet on that. Can you put your hand on the wound?"
Flustered at his tone, she pressed her hand there. "It's really bleeding."
"The blood is really starting to spurt," he said, taking off his tie and wrapping it around his arm. "Okay, press hard. I must have, uh, torn my brachial artery on the barbed wire."
Louisa felt the situation was rapidly spinning out of control. "This is very serious, isn't it Martin."
He felt himself starting to gasp for breath, going into shock. "Yeah, I'm losing blood very fast. Um, you go get my medical bag out of the car."
"No, I can't leave you like this," she protested.
"It's not far. Go as fast as you can, please!"
It had to be done. She took the keys and ran. He leant against a concrete block, smearing blood as he undid his top shirt button to breathe easier.
She grabbed the bag from the car boot. Holding her mobile up, she hoped to find a signal but there was none. She ran back to him, trying not to cry. "Martin, are you okay? I got your bag, I tried to call an ambulance but there's no signal so I'm going to try and get some help."
It was shocking how much worse he looked already, all pale and vacant, she thought.
By now Martin could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. "No, you need to help me stop this… bleeding. I don't carry an artery clip so you're going to have to tie it off with a suture."
Louisa couldn't believe this was happening. "No, I don't think I can do that, Martin."
"Yes, you can. You have to." He was having more trouble catching his breath but forced himself to stay focused. He knew exactly what to do, step by step, he just had to communicate it to his wife who had no medical training. "Open the bag. Second drawer down on the right there are some gloves, put them on. It's just a question of tying a suture around the artery. Third drawer down on the left there's a sachet of chlorhexidine wound cleansing solution. Open it and pour it into the wound."
She found it. "This one?"
"That's it. Well done."
She poured it in, as instructed, and he gasped in pain.
"How bad is this, Martin?"
"It's not good." He was brutally honest. "Okay, top centre drawer, there's a suture pack with a big curved needle in it. That's it, well done. Yeah, now I want you to put your finger into the wound and scrape any clotted blood."
"This is going to hurt, isn't it."
"Yeah, a bit." He groaned as she scraped the wound. Now he was sounding more desperate, his voice getting weaker. "Put your finger in and hook up the artery. I'm still losing a lot of blood. Hook it up and then put the needle around the artery and tie it off.
Louisa managed to do it as he openly screamed in pain. "I think I've got it," she whispered through tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Somehow, she managed to tie it off good and tight as he instructed.
The makeshift surgery completed, his arm was thoroughly soaked in blood as she roughly bandaged the wound. She tried to get him to stand up. "Martin, we need to get you to the hospital. Okay, you're going to have to help me though. On three - one, two, three."
He tried to stand up with her help, but his legs gave way, exhausted. The pounding in his ears was deafening.
Louisa was openly crying now, at her wits end. She hated leaving him again but she had no choice. "I'm going to have to get some help from the farmhouse, I'll be as quick as I can, okay?"
She ran off and he sank to the ground again. The patient should be lying flat, with legs and the bleeding limb elevated, he thought, but leaning once more against the concrete block he couldn't move. He couldn't think clearly and he couldn't tell how long she was gone. The birds were chirping and the summer sun shone gently on him and he drifted off.
To be continued…
