The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3)

by Deborah D. Moore

  “Who else is there, Pete?” I asked calmly.

  “Just Adam, who’s driving, Collins, and Claire, that’s Collins’ wife,” he told us.

  I thrust the medic bag at Pete and turned to Mark. “Go with Pete. I’ll get Eric and be right behind you,” I said. “Your first patient! Do you need me to bring anything else?”

  “No, I think I’ve got what I need,” Mark said, retrieving a box from the refrigerator that contained pharmaceuticals.

  ~~~

  I pulled into the clinic’s gravel parking lot between two pick-up trucks. They had lifted Collins out of the back and were headed indoors, followed by a very pregnant woman.

  “You must be Claire,” I said to the young, dark haired woman, “I’m Allexa, the doctor’s wife… and nurse. Please, sit. Mark will do everything he can for Art. Trust me on that.” With that, I went into the exam room and shooed Adam and Pete out.

  “Thank you, dear, it was getting crowded in here,” Mark said. He turned on the scanner while I cut the fabric of Collins’ pants up the outside to the waistband, folding open the material so Mark had full view of the injuries.

  “You’re being awfully neat with that,” he commented.

  “Hopefully his wife, or someone, can repair the pants to a useable condition,” I replied.

  I put on a mask and handed Mark one. We both washed our hands up to the elbow, and dried. I held each glove while he slid his hands in and then I did the same.

  Mark positioned the digital scanner and peered into the tiny screen.

  “I see two breaks. One a simple fracture to the tibia; another simple fracture to the fibula. They are both out of alignment. I’ll have to set them here so I can check it with the scan.” He moved the machine over. “Now let’s look at the arm.”

  “Which one?” I asked. Then I noticed blood on the left side. “With the blood, I would guess a compound fracture?”

  Mark moved the machine along the arm. “Excellent, Allex. Compound fracture of the ulna. Cut the sleeve off and let’s take a look.”

  As I carefully cut the material away, a jagged bone was exposed, protruding from the red and bloody skin on the lower arm.

  “It looks like a clean break. Lucky for him.” Mark selected a vial and a hypodermic needle, and administered a sedative. “I don’t want him waking up while we’re setting these bones.”

  I swabbed down the area with alcohol, and while I held the upper arm stable, Mark pulled and forced the exposed bone back under the flesh, maneuvering it into place. He then rechecked the setting with the scanner and, once satisfied, stitched the cut and splinted the arm. I wrapped and taped it closed.

  We followed similar procedures with the two breaks in the leg, with Mark checking the alignment of the bones carefully.

  “Too bad we don’t have any plaster to make a cast,” Mark commented as we wrapped the leg.

  “Would a papier-mâché work?” I thought of making light bulb puppets with the boys, and those were quite hard.

  He looked at me and grinned. “Yes, it might. We’ll worry about that after Mr. Collins regains consciousness though.”

  We emerged from the exam/surgery room after an hour and a half, and we were both exhausted.

  “Mrs. Collins, Art suffered two simple breaks in his left leg and a compound fracture in his lower left arm. All three fractures have been set and he should heal completely,” Mark said, sitting next to her. “We’re going to move him next door now into the new hospital where I’d like to keep him under observation for a day or two, if that’s alright. You’re welcome to stay with him.”

  “Thank you so much, Dr. Robbins. We didn’t know what else to do, except come here,” Claire sniffled.

  “You did the right thing. I told your husband my services would be available to everyone, and that included him. That also includes you, Claire. While you’re here, perhaps tomorrow, I’d like to give you a prenatal exam. How far along are you?”

  “Oh, not far, maybe five months.” She placed her hand on her very large belly. “He’s going to be a big boy!”

  ~~~

  Even though the new hospital is next door to the clinic, it’s still over a hundred feet away, so they loaded the still unconscious Art back into the truck and drove over. I drove over first, with a reluctant Claire, to make up the bed.

  “Claire, please don’t be so nervous around us. We’re not your enemy.”

  “I do want to believe that, but Art said…” she hesitated, “he said you helped Pete because you knew him, and that you want to come and take our food.”

  “That’s not true, Claire. Yes, we would like to hunt and fish, however, the deer will eventually come back to our area, so it’s not a necessity for us. Knowing there was another group of people so close was encouraging to us and we just wanted to reach out and see if we could be friends. I think our arrival took Art by surprise and made him nervous.”

  “That’s what Pete and Lenny said.”

  Once they had Collins settled in the bed, I made up the other one for Claire, all the while listening to the conversation.

  “Pete,” Mark said, “you know that Art and Claire are perfectly safe here with us, though I’m not convinced that the opposite would be true. Why don’t you and Adam go on home and get some sleep. Come back around noon, Art should be awake by then.”

  Claire said something to Adam that I couldn’t hear, and after that they left.

  “It’s getting late, Mark, are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Yes, I sure am.”

  “Then I’m going to run home and put something together for all of us. I should be back in a half hour, after I check a few things in this kitchen.”

  The kitchen was small, and held a gas stove, a refrigerator I could hear humming, and a few cupboards. I opened a drawer next to the sink, to find a note:

  “Mom, I washed all the dishes, silverware and pots. I turned the refrigerator on to make ice and wiped out the stove. Love, Amanda.”

  Bless her thoughtful heart! There were two pots, one fry pan, and a teakettle, with several mismatched bowls and plates. I wouldn’t need to bring anything from home except food.

  ~~~

  “What did you bring us?” Mark asked, peering over my shoulder where I was heating some water on the stove.

  “I thought I would keep it simple and make some rice with chicken soup. Art should be able to eat that when he wakes up, shouldn’t he?”

  “Definitely the rice and broth, and if he can keep that down, he can have some chicken. Claire can have whatever she wants.” Mark looked pensive.

  “What’s on your mind, Mark?” I asked, slicing some bread.

  “It’s Claire. She says she’s about five months, but she looks like she should have delivered last month. Unless it’s twins, and even if it were, she shouldn’t be this big yet. I think she’s comfortable enough with us now that she’ll agree to a simple exam tomorrow. I hope.”

  I ladled out some rice into three bowls, topping it with a scoop of chicken soup, and set a plate of bread in the center of the table that graced a corner of the tiny kitchen.

  “Claire, if you’re hungry, I’ve made some soup for us,” I said. Her eyes lit up and I knew she had to be really hungry.

  She wolfed down the soup and sopped up the rest with bread.

  “That was wonderful, Allexa, thank you! I haven’t had rice in a year and the only things any of us can make are biscuits and cornbread, and we’re not very good at that,” she confessed as she yawned.

  “I think it’s time you get some sleep,” Mark said to her as he finished his meal.

  I made up a bowl of soup and two slices of bread for Eric. He was still on guard duty in the foyer.

  “Thanks, Mom, I was getting really hungry out here.”

  “I know you sleep lightly, Eric, so if you want to lock up tight and take a nap, do so. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble tonight.” I made my way upstairs where Mark was already fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 22


  October 5

  Because of the pounding rain overhead, I couldn’t hear the raised voices below us until I heard that one word all mothers respond to.

  “Mom!” Eric yelled up the stairs. “Doc! Mr. Collins is awake.”

  Mark and I had both slept in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so we rushed down the stairs barefoot and alarmed. We skidded to a stop when we saw both Eric and Claire restraining a very upset Art Collins.

  “What am I doing here? What have you done to me?” he bellowed.

  Mark crossed his arms over his chest and calmly stared at his patient. “Well, Mr. Collins, it seems that you had a tree fall on you and break several of your bones. Your friends and your wife thought it prudent to seek medical help to set said broken bones, which I did last night. As to where you are, you’re in the Moose Creek General Hospital. Any other questions?”

  Collins slumped back down on the bed and glared at us. He closed his eyes as a wave of pain hit him.

  “Where are you feeling the pain, Art?” Mark responded with concern.

  “My arm, it burns,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s a good sign, actually. Your arm had a compound fracture, which means it was broken in half and part of it broke through the muscle and skin. You have strong arms, so it was a bit of a struggle pushing the bone back in place. Some pain indicates the healing process has begun,” Mark explained. “The one thing I can’t check for is internal injuries. If you feel any discomfort anywhere other than your left arm or your left shin, you need to tell me.”

  “Am I a prisoner here?”

  “Of course not. However, I would strongly advise you stay another day for observation. Sometimes injuries don’t show up immediately.”

  Collins grimaced in pain again.

  “Would you like something for the pain?” Mark asked gently. When Collins reluctantly nodded, he went upstairs where we had left the med kit.

  “This needs to be taken with food. Are you hungry? Think you can handle some soup?” Mark asked, his tone all business again.

  I warmed up the chicken soup and strained it into a bowl of rice. Mark and Eric got Collins sitting up and Claire stacked some pillows behind him. I handed her the bowl so she could feed him, but he took the spoon from her and fed himself while she held the bowl.

  He closed his eyes, in contentment or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell which, and when he opened them again, he looked at me and said, “Thank you, that was actually good. We haven’t had rice at the compound for a long time. Is that one of the things you might be willing to trade?”

  “Perhaps,” I answered, and I carried the empty bowl back to the kitchen smiling.

  When I came back into the room, Mark had given Collins a pill and they had lowered him back to a resting position.

  “That’s Darvocet you took. It will ease the pain and it will also make you sleep, which is what you need now,” Mark instructed.

  “Look, Doc, I apologize,” Collins struggled with the words. “I really didn’t think you would help any of us. You truly have no reason to.”

  “Yes I do have a reason, Mr. Collins, it’s called the Hippocratic Oath, and I believe in it with my very soul. So yes, I will help any of you, all of you, whenever you need it. It will be on my terms though,” Mark stated, almost angry.

  “And what are your terms?” Collins yawned, becoming drowsy from the pain medication.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I hadn’t given it much thought before because I wasn’t sure if I’d see any of you here. I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, rest.”

  Collins quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  “Eric, I think I should get Ken or Karen to relieve you,” I said. “Even with Mr. Collins’ change of heart, I don’t want Mark left unguarded. I’ll be right back.”

  With Karen now in the foyer, and Eric back home, I set to making some oatmeal for our breakfast, which Claire ate with renewed gusto.

  “All we ever eat are wild greens, corn meal, and venison. I’m so tired of meat!” she said after cleaning her bowl.

  “Not the best of diets, but at least you’re eating,” Mark said.

  “Have you had any medical exams since your pregnancy started?”

  “There isn’t anybody and Art won’t let us go into town,” she said.

  “Is this your first baby?” Another nod from her. I could tell the gentle, easy conversation seemed to be casual interest, but Mark was mentally taking her history.

  “Why don’t the three of us go into the exam room and listen to the baby’s heart?” he suggested.

  Claire lay back on my massage table - now exam table. Mark took his stethoscope down from the shelf, and listened to her protruding belly. I could see the look of concern on his face, although he masked it well.

  “Allex, you should listen to this,” his eyes held mine for a moment, which told me to check my reaction. I listened… to nothing. I lifted my eyes to his and gave him the slightest of nods.

  “Can I listen?” Claire asked, smiling.

  “The angle is poor, Claire, sorry, you’re too big,” I lied to her.

  Mark felt around her belly and asked her a few more questions and then we helped her back to the chair beside her husband.

  Mark closed the door to the office behind us.

  “The baby is dead, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Either that or there is no baby,” he paced the room. “Her belly is incredibly hard. I think it’s a tumor; a fast growing one. We need to convince her to let me do a digital scan to be sure.”

  ~~~

  “No baby?” Art gasped at the news. Claire was beside him in tears.

  “When I couldn’t get a heartbeat, I did a scan,” Mark informed him. “It’s one large, dense mass. It’s obviously a very fast growing tumor of some sort for it to have reached this size in less than five months. If it isn’t removed, it will keep growing and it will kill her.”

  “We’ve been married for fifteen years and never gave up hope for a baby,” Art rambled. “If this growth will kill her, then you must remove it. I couldn’t stand to lose Claire.” He squeezed his wife’s hand.

  We set up the exam room for the surgery, including a large bucket to hold whatever it was that was growing inside Claire, and Mark began.

  Two and a half hours later he finished the final stitches across Claire’s now deflated stomach. There was understandable swelling, and that would dissipate with time. The heartache of not having the baby she so desired would last much longer.

  “That was incredible to watch, Mark, I can understand why Dr. Streiner wanted you to stay in town. You have impressive talent,” I said, still in awe of what I had witnessed.

  “Actually, I used some of the techniques she showed me. It’s a shame that the tumor was inside the uterus. There will be no natural born children for the Collins’,” he said.

  He gave his patient a light sedative. We removed our surgical garments, and moved Claire out to her waiting bed on the makeshift stretcher.

  “How is she, Doctor?” Collins asked. He had refused his next pain pill to be awake during his wife’s surgery.

  “The surgery was a success. We removed the tumor completely. It was encapsulated within the uterus, so the chance of any leakage is virtually non-existent. However, there is no way to know what may have been transferred via the blood during the past months. I don’t even know if this growth was benign or cancerous,” Mark stated with a sigh. “In better days, she would have had an early prenatal exam and the doctor would have quickly caught the growth and removed it. Physically, she will be fine. The incision will heal and within a few weeks she can resume normal activities. It’s the psychological injury that will take longer. By removing the uterus all possibility of having a child is gone. You understand that don’t you?”

  Collins nodded. “What’s important is that she’s alive. Thank you, Doctor. I’ve been a jerk. I owe you for her life, and for mine.” He looked down at his splints. “Even if those breaks healed on their own
I probably wouldn’t walk normal.” He winced in pain. “Can I have that pain pill now?”

  October 6

  Eric showed up right before noon. I thought he was there to relieve Ken, who had relieved Karen last night, but he had a surprise for all of us.

  “I heard you talking about a papier-mâché cast for Mr. Collins’ leg so Jason and I have been working on something. Amanda knew the recipe for the papier-mâché, with flour, salt and water so we mixed it up, and used a piece of gutter for a mold. After digging around in the barn I found a bag of old massage sheets that I figured would be okay to cut up and would be stronger than newspapers.” What he showed us was ingenious. They had made a half-round cast that tied on, complete with a foot to support the entire leg. It was removable for bathing or changing clothes.

  “Oh, and I brought my crutches for Mr. Collins to use, too.”

  Collins looked at the cast and crutches, and then at Eric. “You did that for me? Why?”

  “You need them,” he said simply, looking bewildered at the question.

  “I-I don’t know what to s-say,” Collins stammered.

  “How about ‘thank you’? Claire said from the other bed.

  “When you’re completely healed, I think the crutches should come back as property of the hospital,” Mark said.

  “I certainly have misjudged your group, Allexa,” Collins confessed. “Please forgive me. In a day or two I’d like to have you as my guests for dinner. As many of you as want to attend will be welcomed. And I’d like to discuss a trade agreement at that time.”

  “Thank you, Art. We accept,” I replied. Sometimes all it takes is an unselfish act in the midst of a crisis to forge a bond.