Helena…
Carter gathered the luggage and loaded it into the horse drawn buggy he had left at the livery stable, and helped Elizabeth and Little Carter in.
“Carter, it’s lovely!” Elizabeth exclaimed, as he brought the carriage to a stop in front of the pristine, white house. He took Carter Patrick, and assisted Elizabeth from the carriage.
“Let’s go inside, and then I’ll come back for our things.” He retrieved the key from the hiding place he and Jack Owens had agreed upon, unlocked the door and held it open for her.
“Let me show you around,” he said. He led the way through the house, pointing out his office and the dining room he had used for surgery. “I may have to change this if we need the room,” he said.
“I love it,” she said. “And so clean. You’re a better housekeeper than I would have anticipated. It looks so fresh.”
He laughed. “I suspect you’re seeing the handiwork of Letty Owens. She’s the wife of Jack Owens, the preacher at the Christian Church. They looked after the place while I was away.”
Carter Senior was welcomed back by his patients, many of whom knowing the circumstances feared he might not return.
Patrick and Mary Louise…
Carter and Elizabeth called their young son Patrick or CP to avoid the confusion of having two Carters in the house.
Patrick was well liked in school. A quiet child, he rarely socialized with the others in his class. One of his few friends was Mary Louise Parsons, whose parents owned a large ranch five miles from rown. They attended the Christian church pastored by Jack Owens.
The church sponsored socials for their youth members aged sixteen to nineteen to compensate for the lack of entertainment for the young people in the congregation.
It was Sunday and a social had been scheduled for the following week. Patrick gathered his courage, and approached Mary Louise. “Would you like to go to the social with me Friday?” he asked.
She was surprised. It was the first time he had shown this type of interest. Pleased, she said, “I would like that. Thank you for asking me.”
Embarrassed, he said, “You’re welcome.”
They ate together, and sat together. They talked about their dreams. “What would you like to do after high school, Patrick?”
“I am going to the University of Wyoming, and then I’m going to medical school. I want to be a doctor and work with Dad.”
“You’ve got your future all planned out, don’t you? I envy you for knowing what you want. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Mama and I have talked about me going to Saint Anne’s College for Girls in Baltimore. That’s where she went before she married Papa. I want to be a mom someday too.”
When he walked her to her door, he said, “I enjoyed that, Mary Louise. I would like to do that again.”
“I enjoyed it too. You’re a good listener, and it’s fun to talk to you. Next Friday, then?”
“Yes, I’ll pick you up the same time. I guess I’d better go. Good night, Mary Louise.”
“Good night,” she said and waited for the kiss.
It didn’t come. He returned to his carriage and rode off.
Frustrated, she stamped her foot. “Oooohhhh,” and went inside.
“Did you have a nice time, dear?” her mother asked.
“I did, but he’s so bashful, it’s hard to watch,” Mary Louise said.
“What do you mean?”
“He had a good time. He told me so, and he asked me to the next one. I said yes, and he said, ‘good night’ and left. He didn’t even try to kiss me goodnight.
Her father looked up. “That’s good; he probably saw the shotgun I was holding.”
“Papa!” she said.
* * *
Patrick had a similar conversation with his father about his future. “Dad, I want to be a doctor. I want to go to medical school,” Patrick said. “Then I want to come back and work with you.”
“Medical School is a lot different now, from what it was when I went to Georgetown,” Carter said. “You have to finish college, before you can apply for admission.”
“I know. I wish there was a college here,” Patrick said. “I guess the closest is the University of Wyoming in Laramie. At least it’s close enough for me to come home occasionally. Can we afford it?”
“We can. If you can do well enough at the university, I would like to see you go to Georgetown or Johns Hopkins. In my opinion, there is no better medical school than Georgetown.
“It’s a long hard road. At least ten years of college and medical school. You will be close to thirty when you go into practice. Your mother and I might not even be around that long.”
“Don’t even talk like that, Dad. If we can afford it, it’s what I want to do,” Patrick said.
Later…
“I’ve never heard him express an interest in anything other than being a doctor. I think it’s wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “He wants to follow in your footsteps.”
“I’m flattered he made the choice, especially after seeing the night calls, and some of the things he’s seen here in the office.”
When he finished high school, he entered the University of Wyoming. He excelled there for three years, and did his senior year at the newly founded University of Montana.
Chapter Three
Patrick
September 1888…
Patrick spent a summer listening to his father’s conversations with patients. He was allowed to sit in, but only after the patient gave permission. He found it informative and usually asked his father how he had arrived at his diagnosis.
He also learned how much his father respected the privacy of his patients. His father never allowed him in the room while examining female patients. His mother was always in attendance for these examinations. The Victorian principles regarding female modesty were strictly adhered to, Carter wanted no sense of the impropriety, so female patients were always dressed during the examination process.
“There is too much at stake to do otherwise,” he explained. “If there is a case where a visual examination is needed, then I want your mother in the room, and if possible, the spouse also. I have even delivered a baby with the mother clothed.”
Fall came, and Patrick entered the University of Wyoming. It was a full day’s trip on the train, so he only came home for holidays.
Mary Louise was in school in Baltimore and only returned home for Christmas, and at the end of the school year. When she graduated, she returned to Helena, and married Preston Wells. She taught school in the Helena public system.
When Patrick came home for Christmas in his freshman year at Johns Hopkins, his mother said, “Just so you know, Mary Louise married Preston Wells the Sunday after Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t believe I know him,” Patrick said.
“He works for the railroad,” his mother told him. He’s only been in town a few months.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I was hoping to see her while I’m home. As long as she’s happy, then I’m happy for her. It seems funny, I’m going to school in Baltimore and she just finished school there. Under other circumstances, we might have seen each other.”
“Did you ever write to her while you were in Laramie?” she asked.
“Once or twice, and then I just didn’t think of it, or find the time,” he said.
“You’re taking Latin, aren’t you?” his father asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Have you come across the phrase, carpe diem?” his father asked.
“What does it mean?” Patrick asked.
“Seize the day,” his father said. “If you don’t take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, it may be lost forever.”
“I don’t have time for a girlfriend now,” Patrick said.
“Winters get cold in Montana,” his father pointed out.
“There’ll be time for that later.”
“Son, I’ve had the good fortune to have two wonderful love
s in my life. I very nearly missed out on the second one, before I seized the day.”
“So did I,” his mother said.
“Are you talking about when you came to Maryland to marry Mother?”
“Indeed I am,” said Carter.
“I’m glad you worked it out,” Patrick laughed.
“So am I,” Carter said.
“Me too,” echoed his mother.
“You know we still have the two houses in Rockville,” Carter said. “They’re just sitting there, collecting rent. I don’t think either of us has touched the money in years. They’ll belong to you and Lucy someday,”
Patrick was home for three weeks, before he returned to Baltimore and the new semester. He didn’t cross paths with Mary Louise.
He had taken a furnished apartment on the second floor of a building within walking distance of the school. He spent the next three years of his life in the apartment. The furnishings were spartan, consisting of a bathroom, a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a sitting room. The kitchen had a stove, icebox, and a table with two chairs. The sitting area contained a divan and a chair.
He made arrangements with the landlord to keep ice in the ice box. Patrick didn’t cook very often, food held little importance for him. His time was more valuable. He treated himself to a good meal in a restaurant once a week.
His many hours of studying paid off, and because he graduated number one in his class, he had his choice of internships. He chose a one year internship at Johns Hopkins Hospital, and selected Washington General in the nation’s capital to complete his medical residency.
In 1900, he returned to Helena, an exhausted thirty year old man. One month after he returned, he applied for his license to practice medicine. He successfully passed the examination and entered practice with his father.
The practice had grown so much; they rented an office on Warren Street, across from St. John’s Hospital.
Carter was now sixty two years old, and ready to slow down. Patrick began taking all of the house calls. Called Young Doctor Palmer, he gained the reputation of proficiency rapidly. A few of the old timers would only allow his father to treat them,
Patrick had seen his last patient of the day when the phone rang. “Hello, this is Doctor Palmer,” Patrick said.
“This is Mary Wells, my husband is having trouble breathing and I don’t know what to do.”
“Does he have a fever?” Patrick asked.
“I don’t have a thermometer, but he feels warm,” Mrs. Wells said.
“Has he been coughing? Any blood?”
“I haven’t seen any blood, but he’s had a cough for a few days,” she said.
“I can see him at Saint John’s or I can come to you,” Patrick said.
“It would be easier if you came here. We don’t have anyone to stay with our daughter,” she said.
“Give me your address,” Patrick said.
With the address, Patrick told Mrs. Wells he would be there in thirty minutes. He told Carter where he was going, described the symptoms, and grabbed his bag. He hitched the horse to the buggy and was on his way.
He knocked on the door. A pretty, young girl with red hair and the light complexion common to most redheads answered the door. She looked to be six or seven years old “Are you the doctor?” she asked.
“Yes I am,” he said. “Could I speak to your mother?”
“Mama, it’s the doctor,” she called out.
An attractive woman, with long, red hair, and about five feet, five inches tall came into the room. The little girl was the image of her mother.
“Patrick?”
Chapter four
A Reunion
“I heard you were back. It never dawned on me, you might answer my call,” she said.
“It’s nice to see you, Mary Louise,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has been a long time,” she said. “About twelve years. Press is in the bedroom.”
She led the way to the bedroom. The room contained a dresser, a chest of drawers, one chair and a bed. Patrick went straight to the bedside, and placed his hand on the man’s head. He opened his bag and took out a thermometer, and a stethoscope.
“Mr. Wells, I need to get your temperature,” he said. He soaked a cotton pad with alcohol and wiped the thermometer several times and then shook it down.
“Call me Press, Doc,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”
“Hold this under your tongue,” Patrick said, and took his pulse. With the sphygmomanometer, he took Press’s blood pressure.
“Can you sit up and let me listen to your chest and lungs?” he asked. “Take a deep breath, and let it out slowly.” He listened, and moved the microphone, “Again.” Two more times and then he repeated the process from the back.
“What do you think it is?” Mary Louise asked.
“Pneumonia. His temperature is 103º. The pulse is a little fast. The profuse sweating, the shakes and there’s fluid in the lungs. All of these are indicative of pneumonia.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
“I would be more comfortable with him in Saint John’s,” Patrick said.
“Can’t I take care of him here?”
“You could possibly do that, unless there’s an emergency.”
“Isn’t there anything you can give him?” she asked.
“It’s not something I have, but there is an inoculation available, but it’s a preventive rather than a cure. His pneumonia is advanced and I don’t think it would be effective, but they will try everything. Unfortunately, it’s not something we carry in our bags.
“Some hospitals use an oxygen therapy, but in my experience at Washington General, it was ineffective. He should be kept hydrated, so give him plenty of liquids, such as hot soup, and he should drink plenty of water.
He nodded his head toward the hallway. When they were out of the room, he asked, “Is there a problem with taking him to Saint John’s?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Patrick, I don’t know how we could pay for it. Without both of us working, there’s nothing coming in.”
“Take him, there and tell them the circumstances. They will admit him, and you can worry about it later.
“Pneumonia is not something to play around with. It can be fatal. If he’s coughing, he’s spraying the germs around. You and your daughter can catch it too. I would keep her out of the room, by the way. You should cover your mouth while you’re in there.
“Would you like for me to make the arrangements? I’ll be happy to do so,” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, let me know. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Thanks for coming over. I appreciate it. I’ll think about it and let you know,” she said.
The next day…
Patrick had finished his rounds at the hospital and returned to his office. The nurse and office person said, “Mrs. Wells called and asked me to tell you to go ahead and make the arrangements. Her husband’s cough got worse during the night.”
Patrick called the hospital and arranged to have Preston Wells admitted. He asked them to send an ambulance to pick him up and take him to the hospital.
He asked the operator to connect him to the Wells home. A very tired sounding Mary Louise answered. “Mary Louise, an ambulance should be there any minute to take him to the hospital. Do you have anyone to stay with your daughter?”
“No, our neighbors are at work. Can’t she go with us and wait outside?” she asked.
“No, they won’t allow it. I’m going to call Mom and tell her you’re bringing your daughter to our house. When the ambulance comes, you take her to Mom. What’s her name by the way?”
“Emily. Her name’s Emily. Patrick, I can’t let you do this.”
“You always did argue too much. Now do as I said, then come to the hospital. I’ll be there,” Patrick said, the tone of his voice indicated he would brook no argument.
“Thank you, Pat
rick,” she said and hung up.
He called his mother. “Mom, I just admitted Mary Louise’s husband to the hospital with pneumonia. It’s pretty bad. She doesn’t have anyone to look after her daughter, until she can take her to her parents. I told her to bring her to you. Is that all right? If not, I’ll send Lorna over to get her. Her name is Emily, by the way.”
“Of course it’s all right,” his mother said. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know, Mom. He has a raging fever, and Mary Louise said he coughed all night.”
“Oh no,” she said. “Are you going to the hospital?”
“As soon as I hang up.”
“Tell her I’ll be praying for him,” she said.
“I will, Mom. Thanks for the help.”
Chapter five
Mary Louise Wells
Patrick turned when Mary Louise came into the room. “Did you get Emily taken care of?” he asked.
“I did, and I really appreciate it, I’ll take her to Mom and Dad’s as soon as I can. Their phone was out of order, so I couldn’t call them.” she said.
“Mom loves kids. She will enjoy having her there. With Lucy having her own place, it’d just the two of them. And me. We have your husband settled in here too.” He motioned her into the hall. “Tell me about last night.”
“His cough was a lot worse. It was a terrible racking sound. I don’t know that he got any sleep at all. He was perspiring so heavily, I had to change the sheets. I was up with him all night, afraid to leave him.”
“When a person has a lot of fluid in their lungs, there’s little room for air. It literally is a life and death struggle. They are basically drowning. Did he complain of chest pain?” Patrick said.
“Yes, he did. Is that his heart?
“No, it’s caused by the buildup of fluid.
“Is he going to make it?” she asked.
“I wish I could give you some encouragement,” Patrick said, “but, frankly it doesn’t look good. Influenza and pneumonia are the leading causes of death. It is particularly deadly for the very old and very young.
“Let the sisters take care of Preston, you need to take care of yourself. Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “I had no appetite. I fixed something for Emily, but I can’t even tell you what it was.”
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