“Timmy is in the well. Go get help,” she joked, referencing an old ‘Lassie’ episode and trying to remain lucid. The heat from her fever was pressing on her and she could feel herself losing consciousness again. She came to well after dark and was disoriented as she tried to figure out where she was. She realized she was laying on straw in the walkway of the barn and pushed herself up against the barn. Again, she wondered why she had only one boot on. Her foot was cold in the fall, night air but her leg was hot to the touch. As she became more self-aware, she realized she was in a desperate situation and had to do something fast before she passed out again. She momentarily considered firing her gun but realized that would scare the animals. She also worried about hitting herself in her feverish state, knowing that certainly wouldn’t help things.
She began to consider the infection in her leg and her feverish mind wondered if she should cut off her leg…something told her that would end the infection and cure her problem. She began to crawl into the operating theater where they kept trays of scalpels. By the time she reached up for one, she couldn’t remember why she was there and didn’t know why sweat kept dripping into her eyes. Reminded of the pain in her leg when she attempted to stand, she realized she had to cut into the wound. She carefully cut the stitches of her jeans, able to concentrate despite the fever. She couldn’t see well. It was almost completely dark despite the light from the passage of the barn, but she managed to open the leg of her pants without cutting herself and exposed her swollen leg. She couldn’t see well in the enclosed space and was unable to reach the switch on the wall. Carefully, slipping the scalpel in her flannel shirt pocket, she crawled back out of the theater and into the walkway. The exertion proved too much. She felt the world spinning around her as she fought for consciousness and sat down. As she calmed her racing heart again, she realized she would have to cut her wound quickly if she was going to beat her own loss of consciousness. In the pale light offered by one of the yard lights that shone into the dark barn passage, she managed to locate the angry red of her leg and made her first incision. Ignoring the spurt of blood and the oozing of the pus-filled infection, she made a second and third incision before darkness claimed her and the scalpel clattered to floor. She passed out in a small pool of blood and pus, which were slowly pumping from the incisions in her leg.
Rex came forward at the smell of blood, wrinkling his nose from the putrefaction of the wound. He realized something was wrong. He’d been concerned all afternoon as he tried repeatedly to get his human to rise. He licked at the wound for her but didn’t understand she needed more than a cleaning. He lay down to keep her warm, despite the heat of her feverish body.
* * * * *
“Allyssa?” Fiona called early the next morning as she returned to the ranch. She’d hurried back after a minimum amount of sleep the night before because she wanted to have breakfast with her wife. She’d slid from the truck, looking around and wondering why the barn door was open. Everything seemed normal, but she’d called repeatedly on the cell phone and received no response. As she walked from the gas pump towards the barn she saw Rex standing before it, looking at her intently. He wasn’t wagging his curly tail like he normally did. He looked away from her deliberately and glanced over his shoulder into the barn. Frowning, she tried to peer into the barn beyond him, but the angle of the sun and the darkness of the barn prevented her from seeing much. She saw several horses looking curiously from the corrals. She knew they probably hoped she would feed them and she wondered if Allyssa was up yet and had done the chores. She heard the chickens clucking in the still closed coop. She looked up at the house, wondering where Allyssa was. Perhaps she was sleeping in? She walked towards the dog, who turned and began walking, then looked over his shoulder to see if she was following him.
“Hey there, fella. Where’s Allyssa?” she asked as she walked along. “Did Timmy fall in the well?” she joked. She and Allyssa shared that joke about their dog, who didn’t seem to play like other dogs.
Once her eyes adjusted to the gloom in the barn, the sight that greeted her shocked her into action. “Allyssa!” she gasped as she saw her wife laying in a pool of congealed blood. She saw her wife’s jeans were soaked with blood but the wound itself was amazingly clean, and she realized why when Rex laid down and began obsessively cleaning it. She raced to her wife’s side, wiping the sweat on her brow and feeling a thready pulse. She ran into the operating theater to grab bandages and other supplies, and she quickly shoved the dog away from her wife’s prone body. She poured alcohol and bandaged the still oozing wound. She could see where the scalpel had made three incisions and the now puckered wound was trying to dry up. She covered the wound and then lifted her wife, propping her against the stall. She ran outside looking for the Jeep. She was thrilled to find it not only unlocked but with the keys in the ignition. She turned it over and without giving it a chance to warm up, she drove in front of the barn and left it running. She opened the back door nearest the barn and went to her wife. In just that short time, Allyssa had begun thrashing slightly and her face was pouring sweat as she slowly slid down the wall again. Crouching down, Fiona pulled her wife forward. Allyssa was taller than the doctor, so she used a fireman’s carry over her shoulder, raising her wife slowly using her leg muscles. Working with animals many times larger than she, Fiona had tremendous strength, but she was not accustomed to carrying her wife, and she staggered as she slowly made her way to the Jeep and gently laid Allyssa in the back seat. She ran around to pull her farther into the vehicle, sliding her across the seat, trying not to bang her around as she used the seat belts to tie her in.
Rex bounded to the Jeep, intending to jump in but Fiona ordered sternly, “Down,” to keep him out. She gently closed one door and then the other, seeing the exposed leg that looked so nasty. She noted her wife’s sock was filled with dried blood and wondered how long she had lain in the barn. She ran around to the driver’s side and got in, putting the car in gear and driving off with gravel spinning out from under the tires. Rex watched as his humans drove away leaving him to guard the ranch. He accepted the challenge and looked around. He made his rounds and checked his pee-mail, returning to the cabin porch. He would alternate between the cabin porch and the house porch throughout the day.
Fiona drove a little faster than she should on the driveway and road leading to the highway. She decided against heading to the clinic outside of Sweetwater. Glancing at Allyssa frequently, she determined they would only send them on to the hospital in Pendleton anyway. She knew she was pushing it as she frequently caught up to and passed early morning drivers on the highway. She looked back at her wife, worried when she saw the sweat on her brow and her labored breathing. How had she come to be in such a dire condition? She knew she could have treated her there on the ranch. Normally, they took care of the little things, but she recognized that the wound, whatever had caused it, was infected and dangerous, and she worried about her wife’s fever. Pulling into the emergency room of the hospital, she set the brake before laying on the horn.
“My wife. I found her unconscious in our barn. She’s got a fever and a deep wound on her leg. I think she tried to cut into it to drain the infection. She’s bleeding!” she shouted to those who hurried out.
“Park over there. We’ll take her,” someone directed her.
Reluctantly, she got back into the Jeep as they lifted Allyssa onto a gurney and rushed her away. She parked the Jeep, barely remembering to take the keys out of the ignition and lock it. She hurried into the hospital.
“I’m Doctor Herriot. They just brought my wife Allyssa in on a gurney,” she told them at the reception desk.
“Doctor Herriot?” the woman asked, unfamiliar with her name.
“The woman they just brought in here! Feverish? Bleeding? She’s also four months pregnant.”
“Please have a seat and we’ll call you,” the woman recited the familiar words she told many people.
Ignoring her, Fiona strode towards the doors
she knew her wife had been taken through.
“You can’t go in there,” the receptionist told her, thinking she could keep the woman out because the doors had to be activated by a switch. Just then, someone came through the doors and Fiona dodged around them, grabbing the open door. She didn’t hear the woman behind her calling security.
Looking in each of the examination rooms, she finally saw some activity in one and was relieved to see Allyssa’s blond hair. In the room, she stood back out of the way as they worked on her wife.
“It looks like she cut herself with something,” one of the people stated.
“This infection was deep. Look how it was spreading up her leg,” another pointed out.
Fiona looked on, wondering how fast it had spread and what would happen to her wife. She thought about blood poisoning.
“It’s drained a lot. Look at the edges of these wounds.”
“Yes, but how did she know to cut–”
“She’s a vet tech. She probably made the incisions with one of my scalpels,” Fiona called from her spot near the doorway where she stood out of the way. Several people looked up.
“Who are you?” one of the men asked, obviously a doctor.
“I’m Doctor Fiona Herriot. I’m a veterinarian, and that is my wife, Allyssa Herriot. I found her in our barn this morning running a fever and with cuts in her leg. She’s lost a lot of blood. She’s also four months pregnant,” she warned them. She watched as their care for the woman changed slightly.
“Let’s get OB in here,” the doctor ordered as they worked.
“There she is,” a voice called from the doorway. The receptionist pointed out Fiona as security charged in.
“I’m not leaving,” she stated, keeping her hand well away from the gun on her hip, knowing they would take that as a sign of aggression. She was so used to wearing it, she hadn’t thought twice about it clipped there as she barged into the hospital.
“You can’t be in here,” someone else tried.
“That’s my wife. I’m not interfering, and I can help by giving you information if you need it,” she tried to reason, holding up her hands defensively towards the reaching security guards.
“Let her stay,” the doctor said. “She’s a doctor too, and she’s right…she can be of assistance. However, I would ask that you remove your gun,” he glanced at the offending item on her hip. They had already removed Allyssa’s gun. It was on a tray along with the clothes they had cut from her.
The security guards looked disappointed. They had been looking forward to wrestling the intruder from the room. The receptionist glared at Fiona before she huffily turned away, the guards following her down the hall.
“I don’t know where to put this,” she gestured towards the gun, “but I’m not going to reach for it.”
“Just don’t,” he advised as they returned to working over Allyssa. They had already put an oxygen mask on her face. She looked so pale. “Any idea how long she’s been bleeding?” he asked Fiona, glancing up.
“No, I hadn’t realized the infection had gotten so bad,” she shook her head. “I tried calling this morning as I headed home, but there was no answer.” At his look, she explained, “I was out on calls the past few days, and today, was the first time I was able to get home. I found her like this.”
“Do you know if she was up and around last night?”
“Yes, she was going out to do the chores when I called to say I was staying the night to help with a patient.”
One of the people working on Allyssa glanced and appraised the clothing that the vet was wearing. Fiona was glad she had showered and changed in the RV before coming home. She’d been full of shit and debris from working on the animals. Still, she glanced down at her boots and saw dried manure on the edges. She wondered how her hair looked, if she looked like she had just gotten up, and then wondered why she should care. Allyssa was her only concern.
Fiona stood there a long time, watching as people came and went and worked over her wife. When she was finally clean and dressed in a gown, they put her in the ICU. Leaving her in the room, the doctors conferred and came to talk to Fiona. “Doctor Herriot?” the lead doctor addressed her respectfully.
She looked up. They hadn’t been properly introduced, but she could tell by the way he had worked on her wife that he was good and cared for his patients.
“Do you want to talk out there or…” he gave her the option.
Glancing back, she was concerned about Allyssa, who lay there, an IV in her arm, tubes coming out both sides, her leg propped up, and an oxygen mask on her face. She glanced back at the doctor. “Outside,” she said, wanting to talk away from her wife, unsure if she could hear them despite her unconscious state.
“Well, that infection your wife had is a bad one. There is poison in her blood. If she hadn’t drained it when she did, she might have lost her leg,” he opened the conversation.
Briefly, Fiona thought about her own discussions with her patients’ owners. Even she was more diplomatic than this. Still, she didn’t let her annoyance show.
“It’s drained quite thoroughly, but she lost a lot of blood.”
Well, duh, Fiona restrained herself from saying. Still, she knew the doctor was leading up to something and wasn’t used to dealing with people in the medical field.
“We believe she will need a transfusion. I’ve ordered one.”
“And the fever?”
“We’ll be monitoring it. The poison in her blood is going to take time to dissipate, as I’m sure you know,” referencing Fiona’s medical training for the first time, although she was a veterinarian and not a medical doctor.
“And the baby?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, but obstetrics is sure she is going to lose the baby,” he said kindly, watching her carefully.
Fiona slumped slightly against the wall. They’d waited months to tell anyone and had been so looking forward to their first child.
“She’s young. She can have another.”
Fiona had never wanted to hit someone as badly as she did right now. What a stupid thing to say.
“If she doesn’t spontaneously abort in the next day or two, we will have to do a D&C,” he continued.
“Wait! She hasn’t lost the baby yet?” she asked to clarify. She didn’t want a D&C on her wife. A D&C—dilation and curettage—was a surgical procedure where they removed the tissue that remained after a body spontaneously aborted when the body didn’t expel the fetus. They scraped the uterine wall with a curette instrument or by suction.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But after the high fever she had, we are sure she will. Between the fever and the blood, we believe continuation of the pregnancy would produce a damaged fetus.”
“So, if she doesn’t spontaneously abort the baby you want to remove it?” she asked, standing up straight, her anger returning.
“I’m sure you can understand…” he began.
“No. I want to consult with my wife. You are not to abort our baby without our consent.” She thought rapidly and added, “It’s against our religion.”
He was startled at her vehemence and her words. He nodded once, obviously disapproving, and turned away. Fiona returned to her wife’s ICU room to wait.
Allyssa didn’t wake up that day or night. And her body, ravaged by the high fever caused by the infection in her leg, did expel the fetus. Fiona was glad her wife was unconscious when the cramping started. They gave her something for the pain, but Fiona could tell something was bothering her wife and her pinched face attested to an internal struggle. She briefly considered slipping her some more pain medication but knew it would be unethical and restrained herself. She cried a bit over the loss of the child they had both wanted so badly and was glad they hadn’t needed to do the D&C. Allyssa’s body took care of flushing out the tissue, and they were forced to change her padding frequently as she lost more blood.
It took two days before Fiona saw the first signs of waking in her wife. She’d
had to go home the previous night to take care of their animals and clean up after her wife. She heaved as she cleaned up the blood that had soaked into the hay and straw of the barn. Woody and Rhonda had agreed to stay at the ranch and take care of the animals for as long as they were needed. They were horrified to hear what had happened to Allyssa.
Allyssa first became aware of a horrible beeping noise. It was annoying, and she reached out to turn off the alarm but couldn’t seem to reach it. Instead, her hand was captured by Fiona.
“Hey, there. Are you waking up?” she asked softly, watching her wife anxiously.
“What happened?” Allyssa slurred, her mouth like cotton.
“You’re in the hospital,” she said gently, petting back the blonde hair on her forehead.
“Why?” she asked, trying to open her eyes. She blinked several times.
Fiona reached for the bed controller and helped Allyssa to sit up slightly on the bed. “Do you remember anything?”
Allyssa thought long and hard. She glanced around the hospital room, trying to think. Looking at her wife, she said, “I was feeding the animals and my leg was hurting. I went to tug off my boot. It seemed so tight.”
“That must have been the swelling from your wound,” she agreed.
“I…” she began again, glancing at her elevated leg. “I cut into it,” she stated, now alarmed as she saw the bandages. “Did I lose…?”
“No, your leg is fine,” Fiona reassured her instantly, not certain that was what she meant to say. She didn’t want to be the one to tell her wife, but she saw Allyssa’s hand go familiarly to her stomach and begin to caress the bump that was no longer there. Her hand repeated the gesture several times before her eyes widened and she sought out her wife. Fiona’s look of devastation had her own eyes tearing up.
“No!” she gasped, and at Fiona’s nod, she started to sob.
Fiona immediately gathered her close and held her. They cried over their shared loss, Fiona rocking her wife as the realization they had lost their first child washed over Allyssa.
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