"Repair the veins and arteries? Is this possible?" Dr. Morgan asked incredulously, then added with great concern, "And what if the infection spreads and gangrene develops?"
"We'd amputate, but then he'd be no worse off than if we had amputated now. At least we give him a chance to save the leg," David reasoned.
"Hmm. You really think you can do this? Save his leg?" Dr. Morgan asked, now intrigued by David's plan.
"I can only assure you he won't die under my care, though saving his leg under these conditions isn't going to be easy," David responded.
Dr. Morgan coifed his long white beard as he contemplated the procedure. He looked over at the patient, then back at David, deep in worry as he struggled to trust this mysterious doctor who appeared just minutes before. David could see the old man's forehead furrow as he thought. A moment later, David saw the worried expression leave the old man's face. He now began to smile a bit as he came to grips with his decision.
"Ok, son. Tell me exactly what you need," Dr. Morgan finally replied.
"Two pots of boiling water, distilled or grain alcohol, soap, and clean dressings," David replied.
"It's going to take some time to collect these things. Is every operation like this?" Dr. Morgan asked.
"Keeping the water boiling is the only time consuming consideration," David responded.
A fire had already been smoldering from early morning usage, so Dr. Morgan tossed more wood on the coals. Twenty minutes later, two pots of water boiled wildly as David sorted through Dr. Morgan's limited instruments required to perform the surgery. Resigned to his selection, David placed the instruments into the boiling water for sterilization. He then poured off some of the boiling water into third pot and began to scrub his hands and arms with the soap, as well as the rubber gloves he had in his pocket. Satisfied with his cleansing, he slowly washed away the soap.
Dr. Morgan looked on ill-amused with the display by this strange doctor. A man of medicine for more than thirty-five years, he regarded the prep work as shenanigans reserved for roadside carpetbaggers as a means to disguise their lack of content. David looked over and could see the contempt in Dr. Morgan’s eyes. He knew the old doctor was losing his patience, and with that lost, he too was losing what little credibility he might have had.
Quickly, David set up next to the young soldier. With the help of the old doctor, the patient was anesthetized in a matter of minutes. With the patient out, Dr. Morgan looked on closely. David put on his now-sterilized gloves, and then applied a generous amount of the ‘moonshine’ he obtained from the old doctor to the area around the wound in an effort to sterilize it.
“Ok, doctor: as you can see, the patient’s leg is torn up pretty badly. I’m going to make an incision through the back of the calf to inspect and then repair any damage I might find,” David started.
With the patient’s legs bent at the knees and rolled to one side so he had a clear view, he made an incision across the entry wound large enough to view inside when spread apart. As if on cue, Dr. Morgan moved in for a closer look.
David then brought out a pair of retractors used to hold open an incision. He delicately placed the instrument in the incision and expanded it, giving him a good view of the wound. Next, he rinsed out the incision with a salted water solution he had prepared before the surgery. Dabbing the excess blood, he was able to see the damaged muscle tissue and a torn vein. Using his scalpel, he cut away the torn and mangled muscle tissue. Again, he rinsed out the interior of the wound with ‘moonshine’ and his makeshift saline solution. With the smallest needle from the old doctor’s bag of instruments, David began to sew the reconstructed muscles as well as the arteries, using very few sutures to accomplish his task.
“Now, the sutures will remain there forever, but the body will adapt to them. I believe this should take care of this side of the wound,” David replied softly, completely engrossed in his work.
He closed the entry wound and moved onto the more extensive damage on the other side of the calf.
Dr. Morgan looked on in total fascination. Never before had he seen or even heard of surgery so delicate and so complicated performed with such ease and skill. Eagerly, he waited for David to attempt the more difficult area of the operation. After watching the first phase of the operation, David had indeed proven himself to be a quite gifted surgeon. Dr. Morgan now watched as any spectator would watch a professional in his element. He was in awe and excited to observe even greater feats of medicine.
Once again, David did his best to rinse and clean the wound with the salted water solution, and then sterilize it with the distilled alcohol. Pulling the scalpel from the hot water, he began to work the damaged muscle tissue on the exit wound. The damage was much more extensive, but manageable. As he removed tissue, he would temporarily close the wound to ensure the proper shape of the reconstruction. Working quickly, he then began to suture the arteries and muscle as he had done on the previous side, using very few stitches to accomplish the task. He then closed the wound as he had done on the other side. When completed, he rinsed again and sterilized the entire area with the alcohol.
With the operation over, he began to bandage the wound. A few minutes later, as the patient was gaining consciousness, David had tied the last bandage. The operation was now over and David felt confident he had done his best to inhibit infection. In a day’s time, the results of his work would be evident. All he could do now was to wait.
TT: Chapter 4
June 8, 1862
The sun’s rays shined down from high in the sky as it reached its apex at noon, warming the foothills and valley below. With the Chattanooga River meandering through the valley, it sent molecules of moisture into the air, raising the relative humidity to an uncomfortable level. As the temperatures rose, haze began to blanket the region. With each roar of the nearby cannons, David felt the ground rumble under his feet, and quickly turned to investigate. Like a low level fog, the haze prevented him from observing the danger that loomed beyond the birch trees. Nervously, he searched in the direction of the sound, but saw nothing.
He looked over at Dr. Morgan, who was assisting him while he worked. The old man stood as an oak, unflinching and undisturbed, completely oblivious to the rain of death that poured down on humanity just beyond their view.
"How do you do that?" David asked of Dr. Morgan.
"How do I do what?" Dr. Morgan replied innocently.
"How do you work without being affected by the explosions? With every explosion I hear, with every rumble under my feet, I wonder if the next shell will be for us," David asked, visibly shaken.
“Eh, after thirty-five years in the military, you get used to it,” the old doc replied in typical modesty, then added, “Besides, we really aren’t in much danger.”
"To tell you the truth, even if we were in another state, I'd still be scared," David admitted, blotting the sweat from his brow as he worked.
"Well, you won't have to wait too long for that," Dr. Morgan replied cryptically.
"What do you mean, 'won't have to wait too long'?" David asked, picking up on the hidden meaning.
"You won't have to wait too long to be scared in another state, because I overheard Gen. Negley speak of marching north toward Virginia," Dr. Morgan replied, matter-of-factly.
David stared at the old doctor for a moment, trying to get a read on his facial expression. With dread, he soon realized that the doctor was not joking. David's mind began to race once more. This was his point of origin, the location where he appeared. He hadn't figured out how he arrived, but one thing was for certain: if he wanted to get back home, this exact location held the key to his return.
David had traveled back in time to a primitive and violent world where every day was a life struggle. Existing in the future, he had taken for granted those things that would not be invented decades from his present. He was completely unprepared and ill-equipped, mentally and physically, for the rigors of life in the 19th century. Even before he considered his ret
urn, he'd have to consider his present. He would need guidance just to survive, and there would be no better mentor than Dr. Morgan. His fate was set. The two would march as one, for better or worse.
David glanced back up and momentarily studied the face of the man who unwittingly held his life in his palm. David sensed a sincerity and wisdom that he rarely saw in men from his own time period. Feeling grateful for his encounter, he smiled slightly.
"Something on your mind, lad?" Dr. Morgan asked, his eyes still glued to the work at David's hands.
Startled by the old doctor's keen sense of perception, David struggled to cover his curiosity. "No, sir. I'm doing alright," he answered, nervously clearing his throat.
"Uh huh," Dr. Morgan replied unconvincingly, then added, "Pardon my inquisitive nature, son, but I sense you are distracted by mental turmoil. Is there something you would like to discuss?" he pressed.
David thought for a moment. He felt desperate for answers to his dilemma. He paused for a second, took a deep breath of air, then began to speak. "Sir, I am in a bit of trouble…" David stopped before finishing his sentence. He looked around the grassy clearing. Suddenly, he realized something was missing - noise.
"Sir, the shelling has stopped," David said in surprise, his eyes widening.
"I suppose it has," Dr. Morgan replied, barely taking notice. He stopped what he was doing and stared into David's eyes and said, "Son, I don't see truth in your eyes."
David froze for a moment. His feeling of safety became displaced by his fear of exposure. He stared back at the piercing blue eyes of Dr. Morgan. Strong and resolute, David sensed that this man's inquiry was based on genuine concern and honesty, and not derived by some petty quest to unmask an insignificant infraction. He reasoned the old doctor sincerely wanted to help. While bandaging the leg of his patient, David slowly began to disclose the details of his time travel.
"Dr. Morgan, I'm not trying to deceive you. I have a complex problem that is hard to imagine and even more difficult to communicate with words," David started.
"I see. This complex problem: is it illegal?" Dr. Morgan inquired.
"Certainly not, sir," David immediately replied, trying to put the doctor's mind at ease. "This is a problem of a personal nature, one that is as difficult to believe as it is true."
"I'm listening," Dr. Morgan replied.
"Do you recall the moment you first saw me, a couple of hours ago?" David paused, then continued, "Do you remember anything unusual about that moment?"
Dr. Morgan thought for a moment, then replied, "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Interesting," David responded. "You didn't see where I came from?" he pressed further.
"No, I did not. One moment the grass was empty, the next you were there. Did you run into camp?" the old doctor asked, now a bit curious.
"No, and that's where it becomes difficult to explain," David answered.
"So where did you come from? It's not like you appeared out of thin air," Dr. Morgan asked.
"Maybe not out of thin air, but I did appear,” David said cryptically, instantly receiving a strange and curious reaction from the doctor. “What I’m about to tell you will sound as if I am completely insane. To tell you the truth, at first I even doubted my own mental state; but I can assure you I am in complete control of my mental faculties.”
David took another deep breath, exhaled, then continued as the old doctor patiently listened.
“I’m not sure even where to begin. This morning I performed emergency surgery on an eight-year-old girl who was shot in the stomach… Lena Williams was her name. There were two bullets that entered the same location, essentially disguising one of the bullets. It was only after we noticed an abrasion that departed from the primary entry that we thought to search for a second bullet. After performing a thoracotomy, a procedure where we cracked open her chest, we found the second bullet, mangled and razor sharp, lying just beneath the vein, inflicting tremendous damage. Despite every effort to repair the damaged vena cava, as well as the other organs, the poor girl died on the operating table.”
David paused a moment, trying to think of the right words to sound credible.
“Cracked open her chest? Repair the vena cava? My god, I’ve never heard of that before. How is that possible?” Dr. Morgan asked, feeling a bit insecure about his own abilities.
“That’s where this problem takes a very bizarre turn. That surgery took place this morning, as I said, but in the year 2005,” David responded, then quickly added, “Now, before you have me locked away in a padded room, please let me explain.”
“Lad, this had better be a joke,” the old doctor replied, now visibility upset.
David knew he was quickly losing credibility. Nervously, he continued, “I know what this sounds like, but I assure you it is all true. I finished my surgery, walked down the hall, took the elevator down, and when the doors opened I saw you standing outside the door, asking me to come forward and help you. I stepped out of that surgery in 2005 and stepped right into another, in this time period,” David explained.
He could see the doubt on Dr. Morgan’s face, and right away knew he needed to present some form of evidence.
“I can see you’re skeptical, but look at my clothes. Look at the type of surgery I’m performing,” David continued.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out some loose paper money.
“Doctor, look at this money. It’s completely different than your currency. The date on this money reads into the 21st century. I can tell you who won this war and who the successful generals were,” David finished.
“Son, this story just isn’t believable. I’d agree your skills are beyond anything I’ve ever heard of, but I haven’t been in school for over thirty-five years. I’m sure there have been great advancements since then. The money could easily be a parlor trick, picked up at any mercantile and exchange. As for the war, anyone could make predictions now. The war isn’t over yet. Nothing can be proven,” Dr. Morgan said, now viewing David with pity, as if he were mentally ill.
“Dr. Morgan, I can assure you nothing I have shown you here today is of this world. If you contacted the finest medical school in the world and described to them in detail a list of the advanced surgeries I have performed in front of you, they would think you have lost your mind – yet you know that they can be done because you have witnessed them. Unfortunately I have no proof other than these surgeries, but I believe that the detailed information I can provide to you will convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I am telling you is truth,” David said in a compelling tone.
David could see the doubt in the old doctor’s eyes. His arms were now folded across his bloody apron. His teeth were clenched beneath his closed lips as gentlemanly politeness prevented him from speaking his mind.
Finally Dr. Morgan spoke. “David, why are you telling me this? What do you hope to gain by telling me this interesting tale?”
“Dr. Morgan, I tell you these things because you're intelligent and resourceful. Whether you believe in what I say, view it as a tall tale or consider it simply as a hypothetical problem to be solved, you must be able to appreciate the complexity of this predicament. No one in the history of recorded time has ever unraveled the secret to time travel. Greater minds have spent a lifetime trying to solve this problem. Somehow I have stumbled upon it, and am now stuck here in this time period without the resources to survive the daily complexities of life, let alone resources to solve the complexities of time travel. To say the least, returning to my own time period is a monumental undertaking, a task that I can’t possibly accomplish alone. You are obviously a man of great wisdom and strength. If any a man in this time period could be of assistance in my return, you are certainly that man,” David said, as he checked his patient’s vitals.
Dr. Morgan was deep in thought, considering David’s plea for help. In their first few hours, David sounded like a rational, reasonable man, not one prone to outrageous claims. Dr. Morgan had developed a dee
p respect for him in that short time, and this exchange confused his logic.
‘How could a man of such mental control and wisdom suddenly cross over to that of a lunatic?’ he thought to himself.
David could see the mental torment the old doctor was struggling through. He pressed on with his plea for help.
“Dr. Morgan, you are obviously under no obligation to help me and are bound by no other consideration than to honor and decency. The consequence for my exposure is your rejection, and I have accepted that risk because the stakes for me are so high. I now implore your help. If you consider the nature of the problem, you will realize that nothing I ask is illegal. The fact is, my story may sound like the ravings of a lunatic, but that, in itself, is not illegal. Additionally, I am neither gray nor blue. Simply stated, I am neutral, and that too is not a crime, so my existence here in this time period is not by itself an infraction of any law. Essentially, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. If I am a lunatic, you can elect to end our acquaintance knowing that I have saved the life and limb of your fellow countrymen, certainly a favorable perspective. On the other hand, if I prove to be authentic and genuine, the skills I could teach you are beyond this time period’s comprehension,” David finished.
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