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In which Cochrane works alone, and an interesting case presents itself
M------- college, being nothing if not a practical institution, and wishing to expose its students to real experience as soon as possible in their careers, so that they should waste no time in discovery if they were not cut out to be medical men, not only ran a charitable clinic in town, but sent certain of the professors, students in tow, to visit the outlying farms and homes. Jennings did not go visiting; his first few visits had proven how uneasy he made the local folk. Cochrane usually accompanied Dr. Burree, but come October the anatomy professor was laid up with an attack of rheumaticks, and the student was left to take over his rounds. It was therefore Cochrane who, early one evening, found himself called out to the Watts farm.
Farmer Watts lived with his wife and grown son, a hired girl and a couple of hands, and the patient with whom this narrative is concerned: his niece Lizzie, whose father, a widowed cloth merchant in the town, had sent her to live in the country after she was diagnosed with consumption. She had had one hemorrhage in the spring, but had recovered after a month in bed. Now, the message from the farm indicated, she had suffered another collapse just as the family were gathering for their supper.
It was dusk when Cochrane reached the farm: broad fields, their harvest brought in, and a few outbuildings around a gabled wooden house. Mrs. Watts greeted him, thanked him for coming out in place of poor dear Dr. Burree; Lizzie was upstairs where she had a room to herself - small but quiet - she liked to be alone, did our Lizzie, and it was best to leave her to herself, for she was an odd, silent child, though biddable enough, and no doubt much of her shyness was due to illness and not just her nature, though she did favour her departed mother, God rest her soul.
Lizzie proved to be a freckled angular girl of fourteen, whose dark hair was pulled into unbecomingly tight braids. She was sitting up in bed and looking to the window; as he entered she turned and started.
"You're not Dr. Burree."
"Dr. Burree's not well. I am Mr. Cochrane, one of his students. If I find your condition serious enough, I shall send for one of his colleagues."
"I am well, sir."
"Your uncle and aunt don't think so. Let me take your temperature before I choose a side in the debate." She put the thermometer in her mouth without complaint, but he felt her watching him inquisitively as her searched through his bag, and as he took her pulse and listened to her chest. He did not much like the sound of the latter, but the former was steady, and her temperature only a half-degree above normal. All in all, the girl was in better condition than he had expected - pale under her freckles, but not alarmingly so.
"Did you cough much blood, Lizzie, when you collapsed?"
"No. I don't think I coughed at all. I was in the back parlor, and it would have been dreadful to spoil Auntie's rug."
"Do you recall anything that happened just before you fell down?"
"I was in the back parlor - and - and I was thinking about the Howards' garden and wondering whether there would be frost tonight, because my birthday is on Saturday and Auntie says they might let me have one of their late roses to wear in my buttonhole, only if the frost kills them - the roses, I mean - they can't give me one, you see?" She tilted her head to the empty side of the room as if seeking a blank page to sketch impressions on. "and then the wallpaper in Auntie's parlor has roses, on it, all twisted round each other, and I couldn't stop looking at it. Did you ever look at a wallpaper pattern until it seems to jump forward at you? Only you can put your hand through it, like a ghost?"
"I have never done so, but now I shalll make a note to try it someday. What happened next, after you finished looking at the wallpaper?"
"Nothing - I mean, the fender came up and hit me of a sudden; I suppose I must have fallen against the fireplace. I was afraid I'd be scolded for spoiling my dress but I couldn't move or speak. I heard Auntie, and then Uncle, calling me and I couldn't answer - finally they came into the room and found me, and I saw they were frightened but I still couldn't move, not until after Uncle had carried me upstairs, and then they sent for Dr. Burree, only you came instead."
"And at no time did you experience any coughing, bloody or otherwise?" Lizzie's eyes widened.
"You said 'bloody.'"
"As in 'containing blood.'" Cochrane paused. "And when I mean to swear, I say a great deal worse than that." Lizzie gave him a shy smile of shock and delight.
"I didn't cough any blood. I only fell down, and I was frightened, but I've quite recovered now." She sat up very straight against her pillow.
"Of the two of us," said Cochrane with mock sternness, "which one is almost a doctor? Let me examine the pupils of your eyes." He lifted the lamp from the bedside table and brought it closer to her little sharp face. The pupils were of equal size; they contracted as the light was brought near and he heaved a sigh of relief. At least Lizzie hadn't been getting into the household medicine chest. As he made to set the lamp back down, his patient's eyes rolled to the side, fixed on the light.
"Lizzie." Her eyes continued to follow the lamp automatically as he moved it back and forth. "Lizzie," he repeated, and passed his hand before her face. There was no response and no sign of recognition. Cochrane put the lamp down and settled himself to observe.
After thirty-six seconds, by his watch, Lizzie's face slackened abruptly; her shoulders slumped and her little body lolled to the left. As he caught her, she felt limp as a rag in his arms, yet her eyes were open. By her own account of her previous fit, he realized, she might be completely conscious, though immobile; he therefore spoke to her as reassuringly as he could while he propped her back up among the pillows. Forcing himself to stay his course of observation, he counted the passage of another eleven minutes before she blinked and began, haltingly, to recover her powers of voluntary motion.
"Lizzie," he said, when her eyes were once more focussed questioningly upon him, "I'm going to call up your aunt to sit with you, and then send for Dr. Burree's colleague, Dr. Ashton."
* * * *
M------- college, being nothing if not a practical institution, and wishing to expose its students to real experience as soon as possible in their careers, so that they should waste no time in discovery if they were not cut out to be medical men, not only ran a charitable clinic in town, but sent certain of the professors, students in tow, to visit the outlying farms and homes. Jennings did not go visiting; his first few visits had proven how uneasy he made the local folk. Cochrane usually accompanied Dr. Burree, but come October the anatomy professor was laid up with an attack of rheumaticks, and the student was left to take over his rounds. It was therefore Cochrane who, early one evening, found himself called out to the Watts farm.
Farmer Watts lived with his wife and grown son, a hired girl and a couple of hands, and the patient with whom this narrative is concerned: his niece Lizzie, whose father, a widowed cloth merchant in the town, had sent her to live in the country after she was diagnosed with consumption. She had had one hemorrhage in the spring, but had recovered after a month in bed. Now, the message from the farm indicated, she had suffered another collapse just as the family were gathering for their supper.
It was dusk when Cochrane reached the farm: broad fields, their harvest brought in, and a few outbuildings around a gabled wooden house. Mrs. Watts greeted him, thanked him for coming out in place of poor dear Dr. Burree; Lizzie was upstairs where she had a room to herself - small but quiet - she liked to be alone, did our Lizzie, and it was best to leave her to herself, for she was an odd, silent child, though biddable enough, and no doubt much of her shyness was due to illness and not just her nature, though she did favour her departed mother, God rest her soul.
Lizzie proved to be a freckled angular girl of fourteen, whose dark hair was pulled into unbecomingly tight braids. She was sitting up in bed and looking to the window; as he entered she turned and started.
"You're not Dr. Burree."
"Dr. Burree's not well. I am Mr. Cochrane, one of his students. If I find your condition serious enough, I shall send for one of his colleagues."
"I am well, sir."
"Your uncle and aunt don't think so. Let me take your temperature before I choose a side in the debate." She put the thermometer in her mouth without complaint, but he felt her watching him inquisitively as her searched through his bag, and as he took her pulse and listened to her chest. He did not much like the sound of the latter, but the former was steady, and her temperature only a half-degree above normal. All in all, the girl was in better condition than he had expected - pale under her freckles, but not alarmingly so.
"Did you cough much blood, Lizzie, when you collapsed?"
"No. I don't think I coughed at all. I was in the back parlor, and it would have been dreadful to spoil Auntie's rug."
"Do you recall anything that happened just before you fell down?"
"I was in the back parlor - and - and I was thinking about the Howards' garden and wondering whether there would be frost tonight, because my birthday is on Saturday and Auntie says they might let me have one of their late roses to wear in my buttonhole, only if the frost kills them - the roses, I mean - they can't give me one, you see?" She tilted her head to the empty side of the room as if seeking a blank page to sketch impressions on. "and then the wallpaper in Auntie's parlor has roses, on it, all twisted round each other, and I couldn't stop looking at it. Did you ever look at a wallpaper pattern until it seems to jump forward at you? Only you can put your hand through it, like a ghost?"
"I have never done so, but now I shalll make a note to try it someday. What happened next, after you finished looking at the wallpaper?"
"Nothing - I mean, the fender came up and hit me of a sudden; I suppose I must have fallen against the fireplace. I was afraid I'd be scolded for spoiling my dress but I couldn't move or speak. I heard Auntie, and then Uncle, calling me and I couldn't answer - finally they came into the room and found me, and I saw they were frightened but I still couldn't move, not until after Uncle had carried me upstairs, and then they sent for Dr. Burree, only you came instead."
"And at no time did you experience any coughing, bloody or otherwise?" Lizzie's eyes widened.
"You said 'bloody.'"
"As in 'containing blood.'" Cochrane paused. "And when I mean to swear, I say a great deal worse than that." Lizzie gave him a shy smile of shock and delight.
"I didn't cough any blood. I only fell down, and I was frightened, but I've quite recovered now." She sat up very straight against her pillow.
"Of the two of us," said Cochrane with mock sternness, "which one is almost a doctor? Let me examine the pupils of your eyes." He lifted the lamp from the bedside table and brought it closer to her little sharp face. The pupils were of equal size; they contracted as the light was brought near and he heaved a sigh of relief. At least Lizzie hadn't been getting into the household medicine chest. As he made to set the lamp back down, his patient's eyes rolled to the side, fixed on the light.
"Lizzie." Her eyes continued to follow the lamp automatically as he moved it back and forth. "Lizzie," he repeated, and passed his hand before her face. There was no response and no sign of recognition. Cochrane put the lamp down and settled himself to observe.
After thirty-six seconds, by his watch, Lizzie's face slackened abruptly; her shoulders slumped and her little body lolled to the left. As he caught her, she felt limp as a rag in his arms, yet her eyes were open. By her own account of her previous fit, he realized, she might be completely conscious, though immobile; he therefore spoke to her as reassuringly as he could while he propped her back up among the pillows. Forcing himself to stay his course of observation, he counted the passage of another eleven minutes before she blinked and began, haltingly, to recover her powers of voluntary motion.
"Lizzie," he said, when her eyes were once more focussed questioningly upon him, "I'm going to call up your aunt to sit with you, and then send for Dr. Burree's colleague, Dr. Ashton."
* * * *
