Chapter 26
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
Jeremiah 29:11
No. You can’t. I won’t let you.” Carrie Brown pulled the quilt on her bed up under her chin and looked past Dr. Gilbert to where Sarah Biddle stood, her hand on the door. “Sarah, you’re a good nurse or Dr. Gilbert wouldn’t have brought you out here to see about me. You and I can take care of my hand.”
But Carrie’s hand was beyond anything medical science knew to do. By the end of the day, Carrie had lost two fingers from her left hand. Dr. Gilbert performed the surgery quickly and efficiently. With a few instructions to Sarah Biddle, he was gone, having bundled up Ned and Tess Carter to deliver home on his way back to Lincoln.
While Carrie slept, LisBeth and Sarah sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and whispering. “Does she know? Did Dr. Gilbert discuss—” LisBeth could not bring herself to say the words.
Sarah shook her head. “No. He thought it might be too much for her, today. He said there’s time to wait. There are a few things I can do over the next few days. She’s in much too poor a condition for us to transport her to Lincoln, and if he has to do further surgery, he’d prefer to have her there where he can check in more often.”
LisBeth patted Sarah’s hand. “I’m so glad to have you here, Sarah. It’s a great comfort. I know God gives grace where grace is needed, but I’m glad I don’t have to do this kind of nursing alone. Do you think she realizes how badly frozen her feet are? Do you think she suspects?”
“I imagine she thinks that the surgery that was needed is done, and that with time everything will return to normal.”
“When will Dr. Gilbert know?”
“He told me what to look for. He’ll be back in a few days.”
“Then we must try to prepare Carrie for the worst and hope it doesn’t happen.”
But the worst that LisBeth and Sarah could imagine did happen. When Dr. Gilbert returned to examine Carrie’s hand, which was healing nicely, he unbandaged her feet and shook his head sadly. Sitting down beside Carrie’s bed, Dr. Gilbert rewrapped her hand, struggling with how to tell his patient what needed to be done.
“You’re trying not to tell me something, Dr. Gilbert.” Carrie watched him carefully. Sarah slipped into the room while Dr. Gilbert rummaged in his medical bag for nothing. LisBeth brought in a tray of soup and tea, but instead of leaving the room, she settled on the corner of the bed.
Looking from Sarah to LisBeth, Carrie leaned back against her pillow. With a pathetically brave voice she said firmly, “Tell me.”
Dr. Gilbert sighed. Placing his hands on his knees he began. “Miss Brown. I’ve done everything I know to do about your feet. Miss Biddle and Mrs. Callaway have followed my instructions to the letter. You have been an excellent patient. However, the circulation seems to have been permanently impaired.”
“It won’t get better?” Carrie wanted to know. “With time, won’t there be healing?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Carrie pondered the information, her eyes growing larger as the import of what she was being told sunk in. She barely managed to choke out the question. “Are you telling me that you must—amputate?” Once said, the horror of the word nearly overwhelmed her. She caught her breath. Her chin began to tremble. Sarah moved across the room, taking her right hand and squeezing it gently. LisBeth laid a hand on Carrie’s knee and bowed her head to hide her own tears.
“Not entirely, Miss Brown.” Dr. Gilbert focused on the clinical information he had to impart. “Just the front portions.”
Carrie peered at him with angry, horrified eyes. “They’ll heal. Get better. The blood will flow again. Things will get better.” Wincing with pain, Carrie struggled to sit up.
Dr. Gilbert shook his head sadly. “No, Miss Brown. I think not.”
“How can you be so certain?” The voice was trembling with a mixture of anger and near panic.
Sarah broke in. “Listen to Dr. Gilbert, Carrie. He’s the best doctor we have in Lincoln. He wouldn’t do anything unless he was sure.”
Dr. Gilbert continued, “If we delay any longer, we risk gangrene. At the moment, the living tissues are healthy.” Doctor Gilbert’s face was a mask of compassion as he hastened to explain things to his young patient. “You are a very brave and determined young woman. but you are in a great deal of pain. The medical term is ischaemic rest pain. That means that the blood vessels in the tips of your feet were frozen and they are no longer able to carry blood into the tissues. Where there is no blood flow, the tissue dies. We must act to preserve the healthy tissue in your feet, and to remove what cannot live before inflammation spreads.” Dr. Gilbert paused before continuing, “We have waited as long as we dare. I had hoped for better things, but there is what we call a ‘dry, demarcated gangrene.’ There is no active inflammation. The skin is healthy above that line. But we must act before your condition deteriorates.”
“No—no—no!” Carrie wailed. She turned away, tears pouring down both cheeks.
Sarah reached out again. “I’ll help you, Carrie. We all will. We are so grateful that you survived, Carrie. The stories are beginning to pour in of so many others who didn’t. It’s been a tragic, tragic, storm.”
The doctor added, “You’re young, Miss Brown. Strong. You’ll be walking in no time, and able to carry on a useful life.”
Carrie moaned, “I’ll be hobbling about on crutches. Is that what you mean? Stuffing cotton into the tips of my shoes and hobbling like an old woman.” Wincing with pain, she pleaded, “Go away. Leave me alone.”
Putting his hand on Carrie’s shoulder, Dr. Gilbert tried to console her. “Life is hard, Miss Brown. It has a way of throwing things in our way that we don’t want. I do understand how you feel. But I am not going to let you die. You have too much to live for. I know that somewhere deep inside you, you know that too. I also know that you have the courage to overcome this.” Dr. Gilbert retreated to the door. Before leaving the room, he added, “You must be brave, Miss Brown. Many others caught in the blizzard were not as fortunate as you. Many will lose more than fingers and toes. Many others died.”
From the depths of the pillow came a muffled response. “And I wish I had died, too, Dr. Gilbert.” Carrie raised her head up from the pillow and peered at him, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know why God didn’t just let me die. It would have been better than this.”
Dr. Gilbert shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Brown. I’m convinced that God has a great plan for you. He gave you the strength to find that haystack. He guided Jim Callaway to you when you couldn’t walk. And He saw to it that you got very good care from people who love you. God went to a lot of trouble to see that you were saved, Carrie. I’ll be watching to see what He does through you when you get well.”
Carrie had turned her back and covered her face. Dr. Gilbert could see the bed shaking as she sobbed. He went back and sat beside her and tried to reassure her again. “You will have to walk with crutches, but only at first. You may learn to do without. I’ll help you. And Miss Biddle and Mrs. Hathaway will help, too. Think about it, Miss Brown. Pray about it. I want to move you to Lincoln so that I can perform the procedure there. Mrs. Hathaway is almost beside herself with worry, and she wants you back at the Hathaway House.” Dr. Gilbert stood up. “Now, you get some rest while we make the appropriate arrangements to transport you to Lincoln. Sleep if you can, Miss Brown. Then I will come back and we’ll talk further, if you like.”
Jim had been standing at the door, trying to be invisible, while the rest of the group clustered about Carrie. At the first mention of Carrie’s being moved, he motioned to LisBeth, who got up and went to the door. “Tell Dr. Gilbert I’m hitching up the wagon, LisBeth. I’ve already put the runners on, but I’ll put a thick layer of hay in the bottom and that old buffalo robe.”
LisBeth nodded. “Then we’ll take J.W.’s f
eather bed. I’ll open the trunk and get some of Mama’s quilts out and heat some bricks in the oven. We’ll make her as comfortable as possible.” Jim left for the barn as Sarah and LisBeth followed Dr. Gilbert into the parlor, closing the door to Carrie’s room and moving to the far end of the parlor where they sat in a close circle, talking with lowered voices.
“Carrie could stay here, Dr. Gilbert,” LisBeth protested.
“And she would be well cared for here, Mrs. Callaway, but you have a young child to care for and a farm to run. Mrs. Hathaway has already wired Miss Brown’s grandparents, and they are coming as soon as the rails are cleared. It would be far better to move Miss Brown now. The bitter cold may not subside for weeks. The sun is shining today and as long as we can keep her warm, the fresh air will do her good. She’s been very brave, but I know she’s in a lot of pain. She’ll be amazed by how much better she feels physically once this procedure is over. Being surrounded by her university friends and family will be the best emotional treatment for her recovery.”
“Will she be able to—” LisBeth bit her lip, not wanting to continue.
“If she cooperates with her recovery, Miss Brown should be able to do everything she did before the surgery.”
“Except wear a wedding ring.” Sarah Biddle interjected. “That’s the first thing she mentioned when she woke up from the first surgery.”
Dr. Gilbert went on. “She will be able to walk, perhaps even without canes after a little practice. If all goes well, we will have her up on her feet and learning to walk in two weeks. Cases like this usually heal very well and offer an excellent prognosis. I understand from Miss Biddle that she was making plans to teach. I see absolutely no reason that she cannot become an excellent teacher. If she enlists this trial for her good, it will make her a stronger person. We must pray that she allows that to happen. You—” he looked seriously at LisBeth and Sarah, “You must do all in your power to help her resist bitterness and self-pity. We really have no choice in the matter of treatment.”
Dr. Gilbert went outside to help Jim with the wagon, and Sarah and LisBeth went to prepare Carrie for the trip to Lincoln. Jim Callaway lifted Carrie out of bed effortlessly, but the weight of the blankets on her frozen feet caused Carrie to grip Jim’s shoulders tightly. Despite herself, she cried out in pain.
Dr. Gilbert spoke up. “There will be very little pain after tomorrow, Miss Brown.”
Through clenched teeth Carrie muttered, “That’s little comfort at the moment.” She buried her face in Jim’s shoulder and hung on tightly as Jim transported her to the back of the wagon where she was nearly buried beneath a mound of quilts.
“Can’t I sit up?” she asked.
“Of course you may, Miss Brown.”
Sarah helped Carrie, piling hay and feather pillows behind her until she could just peer over the edge of the wagon box. Sarah climbed up beside Dr. Gilbert. Just before they were to leave, LisBeth hurried out of the house, J.W. on her arm and a book in her hand.
“When we unpacked Mama’s quilts, it came to me to give you this, Sarah. It’s my mama’s own Bible, with all the verses she liked underlined. Soaring Eagle sent it to us when J.W. was born. He thought we should hand it down to the oldest son. I think Soaring Eagle used it a great deal when he was first learning.” LisBeth’s voice faltered as she tucked the Bible into the folds of the quilts.
“Carrie, this quilt on top, this raggedy one. It’s the one Mama made when Rides the Wind died. Ask Augusta to tell you the entire story, it might bring you some comfort. And I know this Bible will, if you read it.” LisBeth choked back tears. “Oh, Carrie, just don’t give up. Not for a minute. I know God loves you. I know He cares. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but He does.”
“Thank you, LisBeth,” Carrie murmured. “I don’t know what else to say right now but thank you.”
“Don’t say anything, Carrie,” Jim said gently. “You just do everything you can to get well, and know that we are praying for you every day. The children of District 117 will be wanting their teacher back as soon as possible.”
Dr. Gilbert slapped the horses with the reins and the wagon slid gently into motion. LisBeth, with J.W. in her arms, stood next to Jim, waving until the wagon was out of sight. Carrie closed her eyes tightly against the bright sun, drinking in the cold, fresh air and listening to the chirping of birds. They hadn’t gone far when she heard a familiar call. Carrie could almost hear her mother’s voice say, Hear that, Carrie? He’s telling you you’re pretty-pretty-pretty. Squinting against the bright sun, Carrie caught a glimpse of brilliant red. The cardinal flitted from branch to branch of a copse of bushes along the road, eagerly devouring a few sundried chokecherries. The memory of her mother struck Carrie. Mama, you lost your beauty, your health, but you still served God.
Looking down at the ragged quilt that covered her, Carrie thought, LisBeth’s mother, Jesse King, I remember Soaring Eagle telling me about you. You buried your first child and your husband, lost Soaring Eagle, and yet you still loved God.
As the Callaway farm disappeared in the distance, Carrie thought LisBeth, Mac died but you came home and went on with life. And Augusta Hathaway came to Lincoln before it was anything. She was already a widow. She made a way for herself. All the way to Lincoln, Carrie Brown was assaulted with the realization of the disappointments and griefs that everyone around her had endured. I bet Dr. Gilbert has a few disappointments of his own, only we just don’t know about them. Everyone I know has had trials, but most haven’t let the trials ruin their lives. Carrie blinked back tears. Why should I expect that I wouldn’t have any trials? The red bird twittered again, landing momentarily in the snow. I have to decide. I can let this turn me into a bitter, hateful person, or I can just cope with it and get on with life. Dr. Gilbert says I can still teach. That’s something good. He says I’ll be able to walk. What if I couldn’t walk? Think how terrible that would be.
Under the quilts, Carrie moved her hands together and felt the bandages on her left hand. The image of no wedding ring finger loomed. Well, I just have to face the fact that I may not—Tears threatened again. Carrie willed herself not to think about it. One thing at a time, Carrie. Today you are facing surgery and learning to walk again. Today has enough sorrow. Let’s take it one day at a time. Isn’t that what Dr. Gilbert has said, and LisBeth, and Sarah.
Carrie called up to Sarah. “Sarah, could we maybe sing or something, to pass the time?”
Sarah looked at Dr. Gilbert in amazement before answering, “Of course, Carrie. I thought you were asleep. What shall we sing?”
“Oh, anything. No, not anything, Mama’s favorite hymn. Let’s sing ‘Rock of Ages.’ ”
Sarah’s uncertain voice joined Carrie’s as they softly sang,
“Rock of Ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee;
Let the water and the blood, from thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure. Save me from its guilt and pow’r.
Nothing in my hand I bring; Simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for dress; helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly: Wash me, Savior, or I die.”
When the song was finished, Carrie asked Dr. Gilbert to explain the surgery to her again. She kept her mind busy asking questions and anticipating her recovery, talking until the steady plodding of the horses and the monotony of the snow-drifted landscape lulled her to sleep.
When Jim Callaway’s team pulled up to the kitchen door of the hotel, Silas Kellum was waiting to transport Carrie to her room in Augusta’s apartment. Augusta fluttered and fussed, smoothing Carrie’s pillow, unpacking her things, promising the best supper that Cora Schlegelmilch could produce.
“Sarah,” Carrie called out. “Sarah don’t forget the quilt from the wagon, and the Bible LisBeth gave me. I’m not really sleepy.” Carrie turned to Augusta, “I slept halfway to Lincoln. I think I’d like to read some.”
When Sarah came through the door to Carrie�
��s room carrying Jesse King’s ragged quilt and old Bible, Augusta exclaimed with amazement. “How’d LisBeth come to think of that?”
“She was pulling every available quilt out of the house, so worried about keeping me warm,” Carrie explained. “She said to ask you to tell me the story of the quilt. Do you think you could, before—?”
Augusta plopped down in the rocker by Carrie’s bed. “Of course I can, dear. It began back in ’43, when Jesse King was traveling across Nebraska with her husband, Homer, and their baby, Jacob. Now Homer King was a stubborn man. . . .” Augusta spent the next half hour re-telling everything she knew about Jesse King and the creation of the quilt that now lay over Carrie Brown’s bed. When she concluded, she wiped away the last of her own tears and said softly, “So you see, Carrie, this quilt has left quite a legacy. Why, it’s just a rag, of course, but it represents heartache and healing. I’m sure that’s what LisBeth wants you to understand, Carrie. That’s what we’re all praying. That this heartache in your life will be healed and that you will go on to be a blessing to others, just as Jesse King was.”
Carrie thought hard before saying, “I’d say I have a lot of good examples to follow when it comes to dealing with tough times, Augusta. I’m going to try to make you all proud of me.”
Augusta Hathaway stood at the foot of Carrie’s bed, nodding with satisfaction.
“I am a little afraid about tomorrow.” Carrie looked up at Augusta. “But worrying won’t change anything, will it?” Carrie sighed. “So that’s that.” With an attempt at a smile, Carrie asked, “Can I have some supper?”
Augusta went to the hotel kitchen where Dr. Gilbert was giving last minute instructions to Sarah. “These are the times I desperately wish for a hospital. By next year I’ll have my clinic built. But, for now, Miss Brown will have to convalesce here. Thankfully my office isn’t far and the patient is easily moved.” Dr. Gilbert turned to Augusta. “Since Miss Biddle has made herself available to do extended nursing care, we can bring Miss Brown back here as soon as the procedure is completed and I am certain there is no profuse post-surgical bleeding. If things go as planned, Miss Brown will be back in her own quarters by late tomorrow afternoon.”
Red Bird Page 21
