Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  Dr. Chipatti kept his word and reappeared less than five minutes later.

  “Right, Polly. Let’s get down to business. You say you need to borrow one of my books in order to perform an operation?”

  “Yes, doctor. That’s right. Otherwise I will not have the slightest idea what I’m doing,” said Polly, putting on her serious face.

  Dr. Chipatti stood by his vast collection of medical and surgical books, stroking his chin with one hand as he began to ponder.

  “Right then, young Polly. Are we looking for a book on heart surgery?” he quizzed. “Although I do have a very nice one on liver and kidney transplants!” he rather thoughtfully added. “Or how about this one?” he asked, pulling out an unbelievably thick red book from amongst his collection. “It’s called How to Do a Most Successful Amputation.”

  “What’s an amputation?” Polly asked, slightly embarrassed that she had so very little medical knowledge.

  The good and kindly doctor smiled before replying. “Well, this informative book will show you how to remove a damaged or diseased limb,” he stated as he tentatively flipped through the pages with the clear intention of finding a diagram to show her. “Here, Polly, take a good look.”

  Polly looked positively horrified. “He’s already lost his right arm,” she wailed, at the same time giving a small shudder. “So I don’t think I want to remove his other one!” she stated most emphatically.

  “Hmm, I think not,” said Dr. Chipatti, placing the book back on the shelf. There was silence as he paused deep in thought. “I do believe that what we need here, Polly, is a book on reconstructive surgery, don’t you?”

  Polly readily agreed, for she did not wish to appear too stupid.

  “Thank you, doctor,” she said visibly showing her relief. Then she lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “I think you are correct. But tell me, does it also give instructions on how to deal with teddies that have such big splits in their tummies that their guts are now spilling out all over the place?”

  “Oh, dearie me,” whispered back the doctor. “I don’t believe it does. But tell me, Polly, why exactly are we whispering?”

  “Oh, sorry, doctor, but I am a little unsure as to whether I should be giving away confidential medical information concerning my patient.”

  “Polly, do not concern your good self about such things; for this crisis most certainly falls into the category of privileged information. It is therefore vital that you share the gory details with me, especially as his condition appears to be life threatening.”

  Polly nodded her agreement.

  “Yes, it does sound as though the poor chap is in a most terrible state,” he muttered, again rubbing his clean-shaven chin to show the depth of his concern. “Here, I think you will need this one as well,” he said, pulling out a huge and very dusty green book the size of an encyclopedia that was titled Extremely Complicated Surgery for Absolute Beginners.

  “This wonderful book deals in great depth with all the practical issues surrounding surgical procedures. It’s one I wrote earlier in my career, and to date I’ve never had an angry letter back informing me that a patient failed to survive as a result of following the useful advice that my book gives,” he confided, giving Polly a little wink.

  Polly was delighted and thanked him profusely, although she was left secretly wondering if she had the necessary strength required to carry the book all the way home.

  “Dr. Chipatti, you have been most kind, but I wonder, could you please do me one more tiny favor?”

  “And what might that favor be?” he asked as he concentrated on making sure the line of books in front of him was still perfectly ordered.

  “Well, I need to borrow one more book,” said Polly rather sheepishly, for she knew these books were extremely expensive and he was showing her such kindness in lending any of them to her. “I also need to ask for a book on eye surgery,” she said, biting down hard on her bottom lip and feeling somewhat embarrassed.

  “Delicate or general?” quizzed the doctor.

  “Oh, definitely delicate,” Polly swiftly replied. “For Eton’s eyeball is in a dreadful state and is no longer sitting where God intended, but is hanging by a thin thread almost halfway down his chest!”

  “Well, goodness gracious me!” exclaimed the kind doctor, shaking his head wearily to convey his utter disbelief. “Then delicate surgery it is,” he said airily as he placed the second, equally heavy book in her outstretched hands.

  Polly smiled and thanked him for all his help, at the same time assuring him that she would take great care of his precious books and return them as soon as possible. Dr. Chipatti knew she would keep her word and determined to remember to ask after teddy when he next saw her. After all, teddies were very important and precious to most children, his daughters included.

  As she staggered towards the door, seriously weighed down by her heavy load, the dear doctor hardly seemed to notice as he placed another two books on top of her already burdensome pile.

  “You will also require these two books if teddy is to have any hope of making a successful and speedy recovery,” he went on to advise her.

  Polly was now seriously struggling to remain upright as she violently swayed backwards then forwards, completely hidden by the mounting pile of books.

  “What are their titles?” she called out, her voice very muffled, for her face was now completely obscured. “Can you read them out to me?”

  Dr. Chipatti happily obliged and recited the titles of both books out loud. “Well, one is called How to Keep Your Patient Alive Much Longer Than Hoped For by Using Correct Procedures During Operations.”

  “Oh,” said Polly. “Well, I definitely need to take that one then.”

  Believing Polly to be slightly confused, Dr. Chipatti went on to explain that it was of the utmost importance to give the correct dose of anesthesia to ensure that the patient did not wake up halfway through surgery, but remained calm and perfectly still in a deep sleep.

  “Oh,” said Polly for a second time. For she was indeed most ignorant when it came to medical matters.

  “Yes, but it is of equal importance to make sure that the patient’s wound is kept clean of all germs. Otherwise, they will suffer from the most terrible infections, and these can be life-threatening, trust me,” said the delightful doctor all-knowingly.

  Polly looked visibly shocked at this new piece of information.

  “Polly, many a patient who was on the way to a full recovery has faced terrible setbacks due to post-operative infections, for they can cause immense trauma and suffering.”

  “Oh, my word,” muttered Polly despondently. For she was suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed and anxious by the responsibility she was taking on. And she began to secretly question if she was really up to the task ahead. “I had absolutely no idea!”

  “I thought as much,” said Dr. Chipatti, scratching his head. For he too was now most concerned for the teddy’s welfare. “This is why it is of the utmost importance to tell you that failure to observe these procedures may well lead to post-traumatic stress, and I know you would not wish for your patient to go through such an ordeal,” he stated, solemnly raising an eyebrow.

  Polly acknowledged the seriousness of his lecture by catching his eye and giving a slow nod. For of all the concerns he had expressed, she felt she was most familiar with post-traumatic stress and indeed believed that she suffered from this particular ailment most of the time.

  Polly stood quietly as she gave great thought to all the advice the good doctor shared with her, and she gave her word that she would take the greatest of care and diligently follow through his instructions to the letter.

  Satisfied that she was taking things seriously, he then went on to read the other title. Its title was Post-Operative Care in Order to Ensure a Most Pleasing and Happy Recovery. The lovely doctor was most proud to be the author of this book as well.

  Polly was extremely grateful to the doctor for all his time and help and o
ffered to come by later to take his chinchilla out for a very long walk.

  “That would be most kind of you, Polly,” said the doctor as he opened the front door to allow her to leave. “But you may well find that you will be in surgery for a number of hours if all is to go well. So perhaps tomorrow would be a better day to call by.”

  Polly readily agreed. She then left the good doctor’s house, staggering forwards then backwards like a merry sailor as she cautiously walked down the driveway, attempting to balance her very shaky pile of books.

  “And remember to wash your hands thoroughly!” the doctor shouted more as an afterthought. “Good luck.”

  He closed the front door, smiling to himself as he then went about the task of making Cyril, his now ravenously hungry giraffe, his extremely late breakfast. Cyril was, of course, most delighted and licked his plate clean, for it was without a doubt his favorite meal—very hot and spicy Indian curry!

  How Polly made it back to the castle that day we will never know. But being the very determined girl that she was, she not only made it back, but also managed the marathon task of climbing the stairs with her heavy load. She then went straight to the dormitory, where she proceeded to lay out all of the books on her bed. Freed from her heavy load, she then made herself comfortable on the bed, systematically flipping through each book, although not as thoroughly as she possibly should have. She reasoned that time was of the essence, and emergency surgery needed to happen sooner rather than later.

  Having scrutinized each individual diagram from the many books that were laid out on the bed, she soon satisfied herself that she now had the general idea and more or less knew where to start and, more importantly, what to do. So with fresh, unwavering confidence, she hastily set about preparing a space on her bedroom locker, knowing that she would have to improvise and use this space as the makeshift operating table.

  She placed a clean pillowcase over the surface of the locker before placing a long length of string as well as scissors, a sewing kit, a large roll of sticky tape, a silver-colored emery board, and a plastic bag all on the operating table.

  “Perfect,” she loudly declared.

  Then after rummaging through her bottom drawer, she found a small plastic heart-shaped pendant. Removing the chain from the pendant she placed the small heart on the table alongside the other surgical items. She now felt very optimistic, as she believed that she had all she required. With everything in place she gently put the teddy on the locker, taping him down with sticky tape so he would not move and ruin her delicate workmanship.

  She then disappeared into the bathroom to scrub up, using her old toothbrush to get under her nails. Many times she had seen this procedure in her favorite hospital drama, Emergency Ward 10, so she felt most confident that she knew exactly what she was doing. Finally, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she picked up a fresh toilet roll as well as a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves normally used for cleaning purposes and headed back to the dormitory.

  Standing over her makeshift operating table, she perused the objects she had gathered up just in case she had forgotten any important item that might throw the whole delicate procedure into jeopardy. Thoroughly satisfied that everything was in place, she reached for the large yellow rubber gloves and put them on. The gloves were far too big, but Polly didn’t care, for she believed they were very necessary to safeguard against serious infection. The pendant would act as a new heart, the string would replace the teddy’s intestinal tract, and balled up toilet tissue would have to make do for his general lack of other organs. She then thoughtfully tied a scarf around the teddy’s eyes so he would not have to watch the operation being done on himself. “I’m sorry, but I will have to remove this scarf later on when the time comes for your eye surgery,” she dutifully informed him. Then, taking another scarf from her drawer, she bound it around the lower portion of her face to cover her mouth before raising her huge yellow rubber hands in the air for a final stretch. It was time to begin.

  The whole procedure seemed to take hours, just as dear Dr. Chipatti had suggested it might. Finally, with the last stitch sewn to hold his eye back in place, she visibly relaxed, wiping her forehead just as they did in hospital dramas when the doctors, after many hours, finally came out of surgery. Polly then bandaged teddy up before placing him in a large polythene bag, thereby creating a germ-free protective barrier for him. She then tucked him up safely in her bed. Polly felt elated! For despite having been involved in a very lengthy and most delicate piece of surgery, she was now supremely optimistic that, as everything had gone according to plan with no unforeseen complications, the operation could be considered a complete success. Being a doctor was so rewarding and such fun. No wonder dear Dr. Chipatti was such a jolly, cheerful chap!

  While the teddy went through the rather lengthy recovery process, Polly set about knitting him a bright green waistcoat, complete with a little breast pocket. “He might need that for a pocket watch,” she thought to herself. She made the waistcoat, as she had enough foresight to realize that his scars would be visible to all if she did not cover him up. She reasoned he would not be too happy for this to be the case, for scars were indeed very private things not to be on full view to the general public. She knew from personal experience that people could be most unkind to anyone who looked different or had any disability. Polly herself continuously endured this treatment as a result of her wobbly eyes. She would not allow this bear who had already suffered so much to be put through any more needless pain. Of this she was certain. Taking a needle and some gold-colored thread, she set about sewing his name onto the little waistcoat.

  A few days later, when she was satisfied that he was well enough to sit up in the bed, she removed the plastic bag, and after giving him a hug gently forced his arms into his green waistcoat, doing up the coat with the two gold buttons that she had borrowed from Aunt Mildred’s large button jar. She then stood back to admire him. She was more than satisfied. In fact, she felt very proud of her workmanship. She then attached an old broken pocket watch to his waistcoat, slipping the watch face into the tiny pocket before reading his name out loud to see if she had spelled it correctly. Sewing his name on the front of the waistcoat had been of the utmost importance. It was just as important as the surgery itself, for quite rightly she did not wish for anybody to take him, mistakenly believing he was theirs.

  As she stood back admiring her teddy, so handsome and regal in his new outfit, she decided he should be given a title to honor his bravery. Putting his life in her hands had been a very courageous thing to do! She also felt the title should reflect the generous assistance given to her by the wonderful Dr. Chipatti. She therefore decided to privately knight him, Sir Eton Popadom de Chipatti. However, she preferred to keep things simple on a day-to-day basis and just call him Eton, keeping his full official title private and their little secret.

  All this had taken place a long time ago, and because they had been through so much together, Polly had a special love for Eton as well as Langdon, her faded blue elephant. The three were inseparable. And now on this terribly sad day, she was about to part with him forever! She removed the stopwatch from his pocket, replacing it with a little folded-up note before giving him a quick kiss. She snugly placed him in her schoolbag and crept most stealthily out of the castle grounds, heading for the town on her secret mission to find the funeral parlor.

  Chapter 11

  FLUSTERED BY FEATHERS

  POLLY STOOD OUTSIDE the old building looking up. In the window there was a beautiful floral display, and in very large gold and black letters painted on the window were the words Pinecoffin and Sons Funeral Directors. Polly believed she must be at the right place, for it was the only place in town that dealt with such delicate matters. She also vaguely knew the proprietor’s son, Jeremy Pinecoffin, from school since he was in the year above her. She summoned up courage and walked in.

  Behind the desk sat a desperately thin woman with the brightest shot of frizzy red hair Polly ha
d ever seen. Not only was she on the phone, but she was also rather cleverly filing her long nails at the same time, ensuring that the front desk was covered in a thin veil of dust from the nail filings. The receptionist continued talking, totally ignoring Polly’s presence. Polly stood and patiently waited. She watched as the lady rested the receiver between her chin and shoulder and then unscrewed the top from a small glass bottle before applying cherry red paint to each individual nail on her long, bony hands.

  Polly, who was standing on the other side of the desk, began to think that either Lady Rednails had not seen her or otherwise was deliberately ignoring her, and as she was now finding the lengthy wait rather tedious, she decided to loudly cough in the sincere hope of gaining her attention. It didn’t work. So Polly coughed again, only this time with more enthusiasm, but still the talkative lady continued to chatter down the phone line about the film she had seen the night before, oblivious to the fact that she was being extremely rude. Polly eventually got so fed up with being ignored that she decided there was only one thing left to do. She went into a deliberate choking fit, coughing and spluttering to the point where it looked as though she was about to have a seizure. It worked. The lady stopped her incessant chatter and turned her head full circle to look over in Polly’s direction before rather reluctantly muttering, something about having to go and quickly placing the receiver down.