Beloved Physician (13 page)

“Sure. I’ll saddle my horse.”

Moments later, Tharyn stood at the office door and watched her husband ride away with Rex Wilson. “Dear Lord,” she breathed, “please keep Dane safe, and please allow him to keep Mr. Bates from dying.”

She kept her eyes on them until they disappeared from view in a cloud of dust. “Well,” she sighed, “one thing can be said for being a frontier doctor. Life is never dull.”

Just as she was about to turn and reenter the office, she became aware of a man and a woman hurrying along the boardwalk. The man was carrying a boy in his arms, and the lad was crying out in pain.

As they drew up, the man asked, “Are you Mrs. Logan?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Is Dr. Logan in?”

“Not at the moment, but please come in.” As she spoke, she stepped back and held the door open for them.

T
he pallid-faced parents stepped into the office. Then above the moans and cries of the boy, who was gripping his middle with both hands, the father said to Tharyn, “Ma am, I’m Scott Thomas, and this is my wife, Susan. This is our son, Bobby. He is eleven years old. As you can see, he is having extreme pain in his midsection. We live over on Elm Street and have been patients of Dr. Fraser’s for several years. How soon do you expect Dr. Logan back?”

“My husband was called away just a few minutes ago to see about a rancher who was shot by Indians. It’s hard to say when he might return.” Tharyn looked down at the boy, whose face was twisted with pain. “The way he’s clutching his middle, and the pain he’s experiencing makes me think it could be appendicitis. I’ll send someone for Dr. Fras—”

Her hands went to her mouth. “Oh no! I forgot. Dr. and Mrs. Fraser are in Georgetown.” She swallowed hard. “Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, I’m a certified medical nurse, and my specialty is as a surgical nurse. If this is appendicitis, I must remove the appendix immediately.”

A chill slithered down Scott’s spine. He studied Tharyn with appraising eyes. “Mrs. Logan, are you sure you can do an appendectomy?”

Tharyn did not bat an eye. “Mr. Thomas, I have assisted doctors in Denver with appendectomies over a hundred times, and if indeed this is what is ailing Bobby, I will have to perform the surgery. I can’t wait for my husband to come back.”

Scott bit his lower lip. “Mrs. Logan, I don’t mean to question your ability as a surgical nurse, but isn’t it a lot different to just assist the surgeon doing the operation than being the one holding the scalpel?”

In his father’s arms, Bobby ejected an especially loud wail and drew up his knees.

Tharyn looked at Bobby, then at Scott. “Yes, Mr. Thomas, it most certainly is different, but if I weren’t confident that I could do it, I wouldn’t be offering my services. I say to you and Mrs. Thomas, if I diagnosis this as appendicitis—and I’m already 99 percent sure it is—if you give me permission, I will use all of my medical knowledge to bring Bobby through this. If, indeed, it is appendicitis and something isn’t done immediately, your son will die.”

Scott and Susan looked at each other, brows furrowed.

Tharyn laid a hand on the father’s arm. “With God’s help, I can do the surgery, Mr. Thomas. Now will you carry him into the examining room and let me work on him so I can diagnose his problem?”

A sudden surge of anxiety flowed across Susan’s mind. “Scott, we’ve got to let her do it now!”

Unbidden tears sprung up in Scott’s eyes. There was a catch in his voice as he said, “I just want our boy to be all right, Mrs. Logan.”

Tharyn nodded and headed toward the rear door. “Then let’s get him to the examining room. If the appendix has already burst, he’s in real trouble.”

Both parents followed, and Tharyn directed Scott to the nearest examining and surgical table. “Lay him down here.”

Bobby was moaning and throwing his head back and forth. Tharyn took hold of his face, held his head still, and looked into his eyes. “Bobby, please stay as quiet and still as you can so I can examine you.”

The boy closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and nodded.

As she began her examination, Tharyn kept her attention on the patient and said to the parents, “Has he been nauseated or vomited or had diarrhea since the pains started?”

Susan licked her lips with a dry tongue. “He has been quite nauseated and has vomited twice since complaining of the pain. So far, no diarrhea.”

Tharyn nodded. “These are positive signs, when accompanied with the pain he’s experiencing.”

As she pressed her fingers all over the abdominal area, she noted what spots made Bobby wince and cry out the most. She picked up a thermometer from the cart beside the table. “Bobby, I have to take your temperature. Open your mouth. I’m going to put it under your tongue. Please don’t move it.”

Bobby nodded as she placed it under his tongue.

Tharyn looked at the worried parents as she held a palm on the boy’s forehead. “While I’m waiting for his temperature to register, let me explain that a person experiencing an attack of appendicitis feels abdominal pain and tenderness, particularly around the navel and the right lower region of the abdomen, exactly as Bobby is feeling it. They also experience nausea, usually vomit, and sometimes have diarrhea. Other than the latter, Bobby has these exact symptoms.”

Tharyn saw fear etched in the faces of the parents.

“Let me explain something else. I’ll know if the appendix has already burst as soon as I get a reading on the thermometer. If it has, his fever will be over a hundred degrees.”

Susan’s heart literally squeezed with pain and her hands went to her mouth.

Fear heaved through Scott’s stomach. “M-Mrs. Logan, if the appendix has already burst, B-Bobby will die, won’t he?”

Tharyn’s lips pulled into a pencil-thin line. “Most likely, sir. But let’s see what his temperature is. He doesn’t feel that hot to the touch. We’ll know in another minute. I—I really don’t think it’s that high.”

Scott took hold of Susan’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She should know, honey. I imagine she has taken thousands of temperatures.”

Susan squeezed back, her heart racing.

When the time was up, Tharyn took the thermometer from Bobby’s mouth, studied it, and said with a sigh, “It’s all right. His fever is nominal. The appendix hasn’t burst. I’ll have to remove it quickly. Do I have your permission?”

“Yes!” the relieved parents said simultaneously.

“All right,” said Tharyn, heading for a nearby medicine cabinet.

While the parents laid hands on their son and watched the nurse, she took out a bottle of chloroform, lifted a soft cloth from a drawer, and hurried back to the table. The boy was squirming in agony. “Bobby, I have to put this chloroform on the cloth and place it over your nose and mouth. It will put you to sleep so you won’t feel any pain while I operate on you. Just hold as still as you can and breathe it in, okay?”

Bobby swallowed hard. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Tharyn set steady eyes on Susan as she poured the liquid onto the cloth, then placed it carefully over the boy’s nose and mouth. “Mrs. Thomas, will you hold the cloth for me, please?”

Susan nodded and placed her hand on the cloth after Tharyn had let go of it.

Quickly, Tharyn went to a nearby counter and scrubbed her hands in strong lye soap. She dried them on a clean towel, then took a needle, thread, and a scalpel from a drawer in the medicine
cabinet. She placed them on a sterilized cloth in a tray, then approached the table and laid the tray on the cart.

She took a moment to thread the needle and cinch the tiny knot, then leaned over Bobby, whose squirming was easing some. What she could see of his face told her he was getting paler by the second.

“Mrs. Thomas, ordinarily it is best that the parents of a child undergoing surgery not be in the operating room, but I need you to stay and help with the chloroform. The cloth must remain in place, even after Bobby is under, and more chloroform will have to be added.”

Worry over Bobby’s condition was a constant tugging at Susan’s insides. She licked her lips. “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. I will let you know when to add more chloroform to the cloth.”

Susan nodded and looked back down at her son.

Tharyn turned to the father. “Mr. Thomas, I need you to go out and wait in the office. There will be patients coming in who have appointments and probably others who don’t. Will you explain the situation to them and tell them I will get to them as soon as possible?”

Scott looked worriedly at his son, then at Tharyn. “Yes, ma’am.” Even as he spoke, he moved quickly toward the door. When he opened it, he looked back at Susan, then was gone.

Tharyn bared the boy’s abdomen and used wood alcohol to clean the area where she was going to make the incision. By the time this was done, Bobby was no longer squirming, and his eyes were closed. She raised his eyelids and noted the condition of the pupils. “He’s under now, Mrs. Thomas. Be ready to add more chloroform to the cloth when I tell you.”

Susan nodded, biting her lips.

Tharyn picked up the scalpel from the tray and took a deep breath. The muscles across her shoulders were tightening, and she
was aware that her hands were trembling slightly.
Mr. Thomas was quite right
, she thought.
It is a world of difference when you alone wield the scalpel and are the one responsible for the patient’s life
.

Trying to control her shaking hands, she told herself that her heavenly Father, the greatest of
all
physicians, was right there with her, and a calmness came over her. She closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, please guide my hand and help me to do this exactly right.”

When Tharyn opened her eyes, she saw a smile on Susan’s face, in spite of her concern for her son. “Ready, Mrs. Thomas?”

“I … I guess so.” Susan took a deep breath, looked down at Bobby, then back at Tharyn. “Yes, of course, I’m ready. My boy needs me, and I’m here to do my job with the chloroform.”

Tharyn let a thin smile curve her lips. “Good. With Gods help, let’s make this precious boy well again.”

Having said thus, she lowered a now-steady hand and placed the sharp tip of the scalpel against the boy’s flesh. As she drew it slowly and carefully across his abdomen, her mind was focused completely on the task before her.

Dr. Dane Logan and rancher Rex Wilson galloped their horses through the gate of the
Diamond B Ranch
and headed down the tree-lined lane toward the house, barn, and outbuildings.

Moments later, they pulled the horses to a halt at the front porch, tied them to the hitching posts, and hurried into the house.

Dora Wilson was in a back bedroom, and hearing the two men enter the house, she stepped into the hall and watched them hurry toward her.

As they drew up, Dora said, “He’s still alive.”

“Good!” exclaimed Rex. “Honey, this is Dr. Dane Logan. Dr. Logan, this is my wife, Dora.”

Dora and the doctor exchanged greetings; then Rex asked, “Honey, has Jack regained consciousness yet?”

“No. He’s shown no sign of waking up so far.”

With that, Dora pivoted and preceded the men into the bedroom where rancher Jack Bates lay on the bed.

Dr. Dane asked, “Where are the bodies of Mrs. Bates and the children?”

“I laid them in the toolshed out back. When Jack regains consciousness, I’ll offer to take care of the funeral arrangements with the undertaker in the nearby town of Lawson.”

Dr. Dane removed his hat, laid it on the dresser, and stepped up beside the bed. Rex and Dora were standing on the opposite side of the bed. The doctor opened his medical bag, took out a bottle of chloroform and a piece of soft, white cloth. He opened the bottle, poured the liquid into the cloth, and placed it over the lower part of Jack Bates’s face. “I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t come to while I’m removing the slug. Mrs. Wilson, would you hold this cloth over his nose and mouth for me?”

“Of course.” She laid her hand over the cloth.

Dr. Dane took a bottle of lye soap from his medical bag and turned to Rex. “Do you know where the washroom is?”

Rex nodded. “Yes.”

“I need to wash my hands before I go after that slug.”

“Washroom is just across the hall. Come on.”

Less than five minutes had passed when the men returned and Dr. Dane reached into his medical bag once more. He took out a bottle of wood alcohol and a special pair of steel forceps designed to remove bullets from human bodies. He opened the bottle and doused the forceps with the alcohol.

While Dora held the wet cloth over the wounded man’s nose and mouth, the doctor worked on the bleeding bullet wound, which was in his upper chest on the right side.

Rex stood close to Dora, looking on as Dr. Dane carefully removed the bullet that had come from a Ute rifle, and laid it in Rex’s hand. “Would you get rid of this for me?”

Rex looked at the bloody slug in his hand and licked his lips nervously. “Y-yeah. Be back in a minute.” He hurried out the bedroom door and ran up the hall.

By this time, the patient began to move a bit.

Dr. Dane looked at Dora. “Pour some more chloroform on the cloth.”

She nodded, and Dr. Dane began cleaning the wound. Dora placed the wet cloth back over the patient’s nose and mouth, and soon the doctor was suturing up the wound.