“Heard about you.”
“Good things I hope.”
“Indeed. Thank you for taking care of, or should I be honest and say covering for, my friend from medical school, Dr. Fellows.”
“He allowed me to learn many surgical techniques and gain the ability to be a lead surgeon.”
“He indicated he has boundless admiration for your skill.”
Abbey laughed and shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Dr. Brantley’s face became serious. “Dr. Kaplan, please know, Dr. Fellows stated to my face; if the time ever comes when he needed surgical intervention, he would want you holding the scalpel.”
Abbey’s jaw dropped. She slapped her forehead in disbelief then said, “Are we talking about the same Dr. Fellows? Of course, it would be nice if he told me those words in person.”
The captain laughed. “Dr. Kaplan, I have a delicate surgery to perform shortly. I will attempt to repair broken bones over a soldier’s left eye with an experimental procedure. Will you please assist?”
“Certainly.”
“Afterward, I’d like to discuss repair of hare lip and your experience with abdominal surgery.”
* * *
Dr. Fellows, the following day, found Abbey and Lt. Scharf at the mess area. “Dr. Kaplan, orders have come through for your leave. You start this Saturday.”
“Last year, Lt. Scharf accompanied me.”
“Yes. I have his leave orders as well,” Dr. Fellows said, “I hate to have you both gone at the same time as I understand what an excellent team you’ve become.” He turned to Lt. Scharf. “Your skills have progressed to the point, after some review and a practice test, you will take the medical board exam shortly after you return.”
Lt. Scharf grinned and said, “I understand, Sir.”
The chief surgeon turned to Abbey. “Certainly you must agree, he’s on his way to passing the medical board examination?”
“Yes, Sir. He’ll do well.”
They saluted. Abbey and Jordan walked away together.
He glanced at her. “Think we’ll get as much tension relief as last year?”
“I’ll make up more petroleum jelly.”
He laughed. “Abbey…I’m serious. After all we’ve gone through since our last leave…Will we be able to achieve a better mental balance?”
* * *
The twosome walked along the train platform in Pittsburgh.
“What would you like to do first?” Abbey asked.
“I’ve been dreaming of a long, hot bath and finally feeling clean.”
Abbey laughed.
He continued, “I was hoping to repair some of my stress- induced mental scars.” He gazed in Abbey’s eyes. “Perhaps we’ll make time to listen to each other. It might do us good.”
A slow groan was heard as overstressed metal gave up its load. A deep rumble was followed by hundreds of terrified screams. Their heads snapped in the direction of the sounds.
“What the hell was that noise?” he said.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the train station.”
They began running.
“Alabama High Shuffle time,” Abbey shouted, lifting her skirt to keep up with him.
“I don’t dance,” he yelled.
Abbey giggled.
“Never saw anyone run that fast in a skirt.”
“You’d be amazed how fast you can move when trying to outrun cannon fire.”
They rounded a corner and both became wide-eyed.
“What happened?” she asked.
A dense cloud of dust blew out the entrance as panicked travelers poured out of the station like disturbed fire ants leaving their mound. Screams and shouts for help assaulted their ears.
They approached the entrance as the dust cleared. Jordan peered inside. “Some of the roof beams collapsed.”
The screams of injured pierced the air. They arrived at the base of a twisted pile of roofing material and beams.
“I hear a child’s voice inside this pile,” Jordan said.
A man ran up. “I’m a nurse.”
Abbey asked, “How far is the hospital.”
“Two blocks.”
“I’m a surgeon. I need a surgical kit with thread and a suturing needle plus chloroform.”
The man just stared.
Jordan screamed, “Don’t stare at her, asshole. Get the damn shit.”
The man yelled, “Yes, Doctor,” as he spun on his heel and began running.
Abbey took off her underskirt and the underskirt of a dead women. She handed one to Jordan. “Tear these into strips.”
Two woman followed Abbey’s example; stripping off their underskirts and tearing them as she did.
Jordan began moving material. Additional moans and cries for help were heard. He climbed the debris pile. Abbey followed. The twosome plus another man and a woman began gently removing bodies and handing them to others. They moved lower in the twisted mass with each removal.
Dr. Kaplan cocked her head to the side. “I can hear a child whimpering.”
“There,” Jordan said. He pointed to a young girl. She was pale, and they could see she suffered wounds to her scalp and legs. Her crushed left forearm was pinned by a large beam.
“We have to amputate her arm at her elbow or she’ll bleed to death before they move all this debris to get her out.”
They heard an out of breath man climbing the twisted material. He yelled, “Got your surgical kit Doc!” Jordan passed it down to her.
Abbey quickly applied a tourniquet to the child’s arm then closed the unconscious girl’s scalp wound and one tear on her thigh while instructing Jordan in bandaging both.
She cut through shoulder muscle and was about to start sawing when the girl began to stir. Abbey grabbed the chloroform and poured some on a length of cloth. She held it to the girl’s face until she quit moving.
“Hold this about an inch above her nose.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Jordan replied.
A fireman yelled from above them. “Need anything Doc?”
“I’ll need help lifting this girl out in a few minutes.”
“I got two guys heading down to help.”
Two burley fireman tunneled their way in.
Abbey finished the last suture and covered the wound. She and Jordan slid their arms under the little one and passed her to the first of the firemen who lifted her to the second. A cheer went up as the child was passed out of the wreckage.
The firemen steadied Jordan and Abbey as they climbed up and out of the twisted debris.
The station was littered with bodies. Abbey began closing wounds with Jordan closing some and the nurse assisting. An older man approached Abbey. “I’m Doctor Blackmun. What are you doing there?”
Abbey asked, “Where did you go to medical school?”
He appeared shocked at the question, but answered, “Boston.”
She continued to work and said, “Then you should know it’s called ligation.”
“Are you a…”
She yelled, “I’m a surgeon with the 222nd Massachusetts. If you’re a doctor get busy.”
He didn’t move, just stared at her.
Abbey examined a woman. She turned to the immobile doctor. “This woman’s leg needs to be amputated. Prep her and I’ll be right back.”
He spat out a hurried, “Yes, Doctor,” and began cutting away the woman’s bloomers.
More medical personnel arrived along with wagons to transport the injured.
Three-hours later, Dr. Blackmun thanked Abbey and Jordan.
“A pleasure,” she replied, “although I’m supposed to be on leave.”
They laughed and shook hands.
Jordan offered his arm. Abbey grabbed it and squeezed it against her.
“An honor to have assisted you, Dr. Kaplan.”
“You performed well. Well enough to pass the medical board.”
He laughed. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Abbey spent the b
alance of the night and into the following afternoon, sleeping on a luxurious down-filled mattress.
She awoke around four and found an envelope had been slipped under her door. The doctor opened it.
“A formal invitation to dinner from Jordan.” Abbey smiled. “How thoughtful.”
Dialogue Between Friends
At dinner, Jordan pulled out a chair for her. She wore a dress with a low-cut top which displayed much of her ample chest. With pleasure, the doctor noted his glances at it when she wasn’t looking directly at him.
He was clean-shaven and wore a neatly tailored suit. Abbey said, “Your civilian appearance is professional.”
“When I return to civilian life, I’m going to be a doctor and a surgeon so thought I should look the part on this leave. You look lovely, Dr. Kaplan.”
“Thank you.”
They perused the menu.
“Where were you born and where will you live after the war?” he asked.
“My parents were from Ireland. I was born in Philadelphia, then moved to Boston, Massachusetts, Independence, Missouri, then Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington.”
“Well traveled. My parents came from the German-speaking area of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. They arrived in Philadelphia then moved to Pittsburgh to be with family. My father found work and we stayed until I left for the war. Sadly, my parents died in a boating accident about two months after First Bull Run.”
“Three sisters as I remember?”
“Correct.”
“What will you do after the war?”
“Secure a position in a hospital as a surgeon. You?”
“I’m returning to the Northwest.”
“How has the last year affected you?”
She eyed him while deciding how much to tell him. “Painfully, in a mental sense although my medical skills have blossomed. As you know, I arrived to the war immediately after medical college. Almost the entirety of my surgical training has been on war injuries.”
A wine bottle was placed on their table. Jordan sampled it then filled their glasses.
He raised a glass. “To our mental health and a rapid end to the war.”
“Amen.” Abbey said with a smile. They clinked glasses.
Jordan thought for a while and said, “Was the price in emotional pain worth your participation in the war?”
She leaned back, sipped more wine, and sighed. “Since shortly after I arrived at our unit, I’ve felt like a wrestling match is going on in my head. Pressure to stay and continue saving lives while enduring the daily horrors and abuse versus feeling like the horrors are drowning me. At times I’m winning and at others, feel I’m within an inch of having my shoulders pinned.”
He seemed confused. “Explain abuse.”
“A female doctor is resented by many if not most. I’ve had to beat people over the head with my ability and dedication until they give me, grudgingly I admit, a modicum of respect.” She shook her head and took a long drink of wine. “Thank the Lord, he provided me with an assistant who helped keep my depression from drowning me.” She raised her glass to Jordan and they clinked glasses again. “If being mentally beaten down by others was the only difficulty, my emotions may not have suffered as much but the hordes of wounded, crippled and particularly those I’m unable to help, weigh heavily.” Abbey swirled the wine in her glass and downed the balance.
He picked up the wine bottle, refilled her glass and topped off his.
Abbey contemplated the soup placed in front of her. “Smells delightful. Jordan, I’m going to depress you if I keep talking.”
“After the war we’ll go back to our own lives and likely never see each other again. Feel free to talk about anything you wish.”
“You may not enjoy that.”
“Abbey, you mentioned your, what shall we call it, emotions; improved during our last leave.”
“Yes, my overall sense of well-being improved, but I don’t know why.”
“Delicious chicken soup,” he said.
“My mother is a brilliant cook. She uses celery root among other flavorings.”
“Sounds wonderful. Adds an aromatic note I would say.”
Abbey became pensive then said, “I had something of a breakthrough on the train ride to Pittsburgh this year.”
He stopped eating, sat back and sipped his wine. “Tell me.”
“Occasionally, I…we…make a mistake which costs a soldier dearly…sometimes fatally. Initially I was devastated; couldn’t sleep and tried to forget what happened.”
“Forget?”
She nodded. “I didn’t forget, but gradually, the incidents didn’t become a source of horror.”
“The breakthrough?”
“Something, perhaps, you might emulate. By accepting I’m human and will make mistakes, I improved my mental balance in regards to my errors.”
“Perhaps you could apply the same thinking to the other things which keep us awake at night.”
“I’ve been trying but with little success.”
The twosome ate quietly for a bit then Abbey asked, “How do you manage when the mental pain grows.”
“Poorly, I’m afraid. Bad results leave scars on my humanity which I fear will never heal.”
“Jordan, your sense of compassion is commendable.”
He smiled, “Thoughtful of you to say.”
“In truth, the primary reason I joined the war effort was to advance my medical knowledge and ability as a surgeon.”
“As a woman, do you miss putting off having a family and, if so, is it a source of pain?”
“I’m busy all day, seven-days-a-week. Not much time to contemplate a family.” Abbey sighed and saw warmth in his eyes. “Jordan remains a most pleasant, man,” she thought. The doctor put a lock of hair behind her ear. “But…my body longs to have a man. It becomes painful to ignore.”
“With nothing but men around, I’m desperate for a woman.”
Abbey put her hand on his. “How are you managing?”
“Not well.” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “Last week, I found myself admiring a mule with wide hips.”
Abbey laughed hysterically.
When she quieted, he said, “Even contemplated buying sex.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. You’ll likely get a dreadful disease. I treat many of the camp followers and their customers. They both develop ghastly sores on their genitals.”
“How repulsive.”
“And occasionally deadly.”
“I understand it’s easier for females to ignore their sexual urges.”
Abbey slammed her hand on the table. “What crap! Men have such a distorted view of womanhood.”
He blushed. “I apologize.”
“Unnecessary.” She stared at him briefly. “Perhaps it’s our mother’s fault for not explaining to their sons the urges we feel.”
He shook his head, “Believe me. The last thing men need is knowledge which increases their libido.”
Abbey burst into laughter. They were served grilled chicken and root vegetables.
“So how do you manage the urges? Um…if we’re getting too personal…”
“Not at all. It helps to talk. A year ago, we…took care of each other.”
“This year, perhaps you’ll allow me once again…”
Abbey experienced an ache in her lady parts. She stared at her lap while her cheeks warmed.
“I’m sorry. It was rude of me…”
“Not at all, Jordan.” Abbey sat up straight and composed herself anew. She grabbed a lock of hair and stuffed it behind her ear. “As you said earlier, we’ll go back to our own lives after the war and likely never see each other again.” She looked in his eyes. “When we’ve completed dinner, perhaps you’ll accompany me to my room?”
* * *
Abbey unpinned her hat and carefully placed it in its box. Jordan slipped out of his clothing. She sucked in her breath and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. The doctor stared for a moment then said
, “My Lord, such a well-muscled body.”
“Thank you. Since our last leave I perform nearly two- hundred push-ups and sit-ups on a daily basis.”
“The result is magnificent.”
She reached out to touch his rippled abdomen then hesitated. “May I?”
“Please.”
He flexed for her. She ran a hand across his chiseled pectorals, washboard abs, then around to his back, across his butt and down one leg. Abbey’s insides throbbed. “You could pose for anatomy studies.”
“Thank you. Your figure?”
Abbey turned her back to him then lifted her hair off her collar. He unbuttoned the back of her dress. She stepped out of her clothing.
“Beautiful,” he said.
She cupped her breasts. “Fallen a bit I’m afraid.”
“Still lovely,” he said, then kissed each one.
They wrapped their arms around each other and engaged in a long kiss.
“Abbey, I must admit, even after our trysts last leave, I know little about a women’s body. I would know better what to do if you told me where and how you like to be touched.”
Abbey’s heart pounded. “I’d love to.”
As if she weighed nothing, he lifted her and carried the doctor to bed.
* * *
“People’s feelings are so strange,” Jordan said during one of many walks which meandered through Pittsburgh’s downtown.
“How does that apply to those of us experiencing a war?”
“Emotions have no shape or form but…”
He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Jordan gazed about then pointed to a robin standing on the edge of its nest. Its three young, mouths opened wide and peeping away, begged to be fed.
Abbey viewed the nest and smiled.
“A sight which warms us,” he said. “A feeling which wraps around us like a lover’s arms.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “But the horror of war invades our soul, overshadowing positive thought and experience. Our vain attempts to sustain our emotional balance leave us feeling incomplete…like we’ve landed alone in the middle of an ocean where the horrors of war drag us down into greater and deeper depths of depression and despair.”
The Surgeon: A Civil War Story Page 21