As they made their way between the buildings to the hospital, Jeanette struggled to contain her excitement and her apprehension. What sort of procedure would they be performing, and would the patient be all right once they were through? She remembered the horrible anxiety of waiting for Tom White to recover. Life, death, and the balance between the two elicited every form of emotion.
“Have you assisted in surgery before?” Miss Cantrell asked.
“I assisted Dr. Wayment when he treated a patient with a compound fracture,” Jeanette explained as they entered the hospital. “It was fascinating to watch him work.”
Miss Cantrell nodded to the nurse just inside the doorway, and they headed down the hall. “Oh, that’s right. I remember that you mentioned him at lunch yesterday.”
When they reached the surgery, they hung up their shawls and joined Dr. Russell inside with the patient. She was a woman of about forty years old, her brown hair scraped back into a bun that looked hardly bigger than a dinner roll.
Dr. Russell looked up and nodded as Jeanette and Miss Cantrell drew closer to the table. “I fear we must perform a hysterectomy.”
Jeanette remembered what she had been taught about hysterectomies just that afternoon. They were frightening procedures, with very low survival rates, only performed when there was no other alternative.
Dr. Russell began speaking, his hands never ceasing to move. He grabbed towels, sheets, and surgical utensils, lining them up next to his patient. “Her uterus is full of cancer, and the bleeding is out of control. We must act quickly if we are to have any hope of saving her life. I’ve already scrubbed my hands with a chlorinated lime solution, and you must do the same.”
Miss Cantrell took an apron from the shelf near the door and tossed it to Jeanette, then took another and put it on. They both washed, then stood ready to help, Jeanette clenching her fists to keep her hands from trembling.
As Dr. Russell performed the operation, he explained everything he was doing for Jeanette’s benefit. Miss Cantrell was kept busy handing him surgical implements and towels. Jeanette stayed out of the way, but was near enough to observe and ask questions. At first, she hesitated to watch, but soon overcame it as her fascination with the procedure grew.
When at last the operation was over, Dr. Russell stepped back and wiped his forehead with a clean towel. “Now we must wait to see what the outcome will be,” he said, tossing the towel on the top of the stack of other towels that had been used over the course of the last hour.
Mrs. Clark lay on the table, looking pale and thin. Jeanette wished she knew if the woman would recover. Only time would tell now, and she had always hated waiting.
Miss Cantrell took a damp washcloth and bathed the patient’s face and neck. Mrs. Clark didn’t so much as move a muscle, instead remaining as limp as a doll and as white as a dove.
“I’m going to stay here the remainder of the night and see how she does,” Dr. Russell said, pulling up a chair and placing it next to the patient’s bed. “Miss Cantrell, why don’t you take Miss Anderson back to the house, and I’ll see you there when I return.”
“Must we go back to the house?” Jeanette asked. “I’d very much like to stay and help.”
Dr. Russell’s brow furrowed. “You can if you like, but it’s liable to be a long, boring night,” he said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees.
“That’s all right,” Jeanette said. “I’m used to long hours of waiting, and I’d much rather be here, where I can be of use, than back at the house, staring at the ceiling.”
“Very well,” Dr. Russell said. “You may stay.”
Jeanette and Miss Cantrell found two more chairs and brought them into the room, taking up positions as silent sentinels around their patient.
Jeanette had never seen or imagined a procedure like the one Dr. Russell had just performed. He seemed to have a lot in common with Phillip. Both men cared deeply about their patients, and both were willing to try new and experimental things if it meant a better outcome. Neither seemed to care about money or fame. Rather, they seemed motivated by their ability to serve their fellowman.
Jeanette noticed the weight of concern that rested on Dr. Russell’s shoulders, and it did remind her of Phillip quite a bit. It was easy to tell why these men were friends, and why Dr. Russell had been such a good mentor for Phillip in his medical studies.
At first, it appeared that Mrs. Clark would make it through the night. However, after about an hour, she began to bleed even more profusely. Dr. Russell and Miss Cantrell sprang into action, replacing the towels beneath her. She seemed to be soaking through them at a rate of about one every minute. The frustration on Dr. Russell’s face became more and more evident, and Jeanette wondered what it would be like to put so much of your heart and soul into something and then have to watch it slip away through your fingers. She helped where she could, gathering up the soiled linens and piling them together to be washed. But there was really nothing to be done. The patient was bleeding to death, and there were no magic cures or secret potions that could be used to spare her life.
An hour later, Mrs. Clark slipped away. She had been so still and pale that there really was no difference in the way she looked except that she stopped breathing, and Dr. Russell took her pulse. He shook his head, a grim line forming between his eyebrows. “She’s gone,” he said, wiping his hands on one of the towels and tossing it onto the ever-growing pile.
Jeanette couldn’t pull her gaze from Mrs. Clark’s face. She seemed peaceful, as though she could finally rest after all she’d been through. Oh, how she wished this woman could have survived, but at least now, she was out of pain.
“You both did very well,” the doctor said, turning to Jeanette and Miss Cantrell. “I appreciate your assistance. Sometimes there’s nothing more that can be done, and we must accept the hand we are dealt.”
The women cleaned the surgery room and gathered up the instruments and laundry while Dr. Russell checked on a few other patients. Then Jeanette trailed behind Dr. Russell and Miss Cantrell as they walked back to the house. The faintest hints of pink had begun to touch the sky, and she stifled a yawn. She hoped the day’s lessons could be pushed back an hour or two so she could have a nap.
As they stepped onto the sidewalk leading to the house, Miss Cantrell stumbled, and Dr. Russell’s hand shot out to catch her. For just a moment, a look passed between them, and Jeanette smiled. Maybe she was influenced by her feelings for Phillip, but she wouldn’t be in the slightest bit surprised to learn that there was something brewing between the doctor and his nurse.
Chapter Four
The next morning, all the girls could talk about was the fact that Jeanette had been able to witness a procedure on her first official day. Meg sounded disdainful, Sophie was proud, and Jeanette wished they’d all soften their voices just a little bit. Lack of sleep had given her an awful headache.
“How did they even find out?” she asked Miss Cantrell as they carried their dishes into the kitchen.
“I believe Mrs. Everett might have mentioned it.” Miss Cantrell put her plate on the counter, then touched Jeanette’s shoulder. “Don’t concern yourself with them or what they think. They will each have a chance as well, and their opinions aren’t worth fretting about.”
Perhaps if she’d had a little more sleep, Jeanette wouldn’t have minded the jibes, but as it was, she minded very much.
The morning’s class was a recitation of what they’d learned the day before, the girls being expected to remember the lesson and answer questions throughout. Jeanette tried hard not to yawn as she listened. She didn’t know how Miss Cantrell managed to look so alert and conduct the class competently—the nurse must be used to functioning on just minutes of rest.
“This afternoon, we’ll head over to St. Timothy’s,” Miss Cantrell announced at the close of their lesson period. “Please take extra care to be neat and tidy.”
St. Timothy’s wasn’t too far from Dr. Russell’s house, althoug
h some of the girls complained about having to walk the distance. Jeanette found that the exercise and fresh air actually helped wake her up, so she was grateful for it.
When they reached the hospital, they were greeted by Nurse Foster, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a perpetual smile. “We’re so glad you could join us today,” she said, her gaze flitting from girl to girl without resting on one of them. “Today you’ll be escorted by Dr. Gregory. He’s one of our newest doctors, but one of our best. Please wait here, and the doctor should be with you shortly.”
Jeanette wasn’t sure what “shortly” meant to New Yorkers. It was a good fifteen minutes before he came to collect them, and they were all getting antsy by that point.
“Hello,” he said, sounding bored. “My name is Dr. Gregory, and I’ve been asked to show you my patients and discuss their care with you. Please follow me.”
As they walked, Jeanette studied him. He was young, probably twenty-five, with brown hair. She suspected he had a dimple—there was evidence of it when he’d introduced himself—but he’d have to smile before she’d really be sure, and he didn’t seem the slightest bit inclined to smile. Oh, well. Maybe he’d feel friendlier after he’d spent some time with them. They were all strangers to each other, after all.
“Our first patient is Mrs. Fletcher. She was brought in yesterday suffering from multiple knife wounds. We performed surgery to stitch up the worst of the injuries. She seems to be doing well now, but we’re on the alert for sepsis.”
Millie raised her hand. “Multiple knife wounds? What happened?”
“Her husband tried to kill her.”
Jeanette’s hand flew to her mouth. Dr. Gregory spoke as though this was something he saw every day, and maybe it was, but she’d never encountered any such thing.
“He’s been apprehended and is currently in jail,” Dr. Gregory went on. “His trial won’t take place until we’re sure of his wife’s outcome. He will either be charged with murder or attempted murder, depending on her recovery.”
“How many of the wounds did you stitch, and how many did you leave open?” Tess asked.
“Out of six total wounds, we stitched four and bandaged two,” Dr. Gregory replied. “We felt those two remaining wounds would close on their own, given time.”
They moved down the hallway, but Jeanette couldn’t force her thoughts away from the woman in that bed. What would possess a man to stab his wife six times? Was it anger or jealousy? Surely there must also be an element of insanity.
They visited patients with broken arms, one with a broken leg, and one who had been burned in a house fire. When they were done with the tour, Dr. Gregory walked them back to the front entrance.
“Are there any other questions? No? Well, have a nice evening.” With that, he stalked off, seeming more than happy to be rid of them.
The girls walked back to the house, their usual chatter sobered by the things they’d seen.
“You’re quiet again,” Sophie said, nudging Jeanette with her elbow.
“I can’t stop thinking about her. Six stab wounds.” Jeanette pressed her lips together. “How can people be so cruel to each other? How do they lose their humanity to such an extent that the thought of hurting another person seems . . . desirable to them?”
“I don’t know. I can’t understand it myself. But I’ll tell you one thing.” Sophie stuck her arm through Jeanette’s and gave it a little squeeze, as she often did. “We’re learning how to make a difference. Mrs. Fletcher will have a chance at life now because of Dr. Gregory. We’re on the right team.”
Jeanette nodded, knowing her friend spoke truth. Darkness might be all around them, but they were being given the opportunity to turn it into light.
***
Over the next few days, the girls listened to lectures in the mornings and then toured the hospitals in the afternoons. The doctors at Woman’s Hospital were always more than willing to discuss their cases, and most of the doctors at St. Timothy’s were just as obliging. Dr. Gregory, on the other hand, was not losing his crusty exterior, and Jeanette wondered if he’d ever stop acting so irritated when he saw them coming. Surely he realized they were there to learn and help, not to get in his way.
Friday morning, Miss Cantrell brought a covered tray into the parlor and set it on the table in front of the students. “Today we’re going to discuss surgical instruments and their uses,” she said, removing the cover to reveal an assortment of implements. “These are the most common items Dr. Russell uses when he performs a procedure. A good nurse not only knows the names of these items and can produce them on demand, but she might anticipate the doctor’s need for them and have them ready.”
She showed them a wide variety of scalpels, clamps, surgical saws, knives, scissors, and forceps. Millie looked positively ill throughout the discussion, Tess was enthralled, and a few of the girls seemed bored. Jeanette couldn’t help but identify with Tess. This was fascinating, and she found herself eager to touch those instruments and use them herself, even though her primary responsibility would be to hand them to the doctor.
“Now that you’ve been introduced to these implements, you’ll need to memorize their names and their uses,” Miss Cantrell said. “However, I believe that can wait for Monday. This has been your first week, a trying one at that, and you’ve earned a break over Saturday and Sunday.”
The girls turned to each other, excited. Jeanette wanted to go see more of the city—she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of the beautiful architecture.
“I do have a few rules for you, though,” Miss Cantrell continued. “First, you must never leave the house alone—you must always take at least one other student with you. Second, if you’re going to miss a meal, please tell Mrs. Everett. It worries her when someone’s missing from her table. Third, if you intend to see a play, concert, or some other evening entertainment, please tell either myself or Mrs. Everett that you’ll be in late. She locks the door at ten each night, and you wouldn’t want to be caught on the wrong side of it.
“You might find the new Metropolitan Museum of Art interesting—they have a Roman sarcophagus on display, as well as over a hundred and fifty paintings. As for Sunday, there are several churches nearby, should you want to attend. There are also some nice parks and walking paths, if that suits you better. Mrs. Everett says she’s making a delicious Sunday dinner, so you may want to plan your outings around it. Please have a very enjoyable time, stick to the rules, and class will resume at eight on Monday morning. You should be aware that beginning on Monday afternoon, you will begin to observe surgical procedures in the two hospitals.”
“Wonderful,” Tess said, and Miss Cantrell smiled.
“I’m glad to know that you’re enthused. Class is dismissed.”
Sophie turned to Jeanette, excitement all over her face. “I want to see everything—absolutely everything.”
“So do I,” Jeanette replied. She could hardly wait, and wondered if six months’ worth of days off would be enough.
Right after breakfast on Saturday morning, Sophie and Jeanette left the house, eager to explore. They visited every shop they came to and imagined what they would buy if they had all the money in the world. Jeanette used her imagination to get a gold pocket watch for Phillip and a beautiful violet dress for Abigail. Then they sipped tea at a small café, wandered through Central Park and visited the menagerie there, and made plans to visit the museum on their next day off.
“I could live here,” Sophie said dreamily as they walked back to the house. “I could spend every day wandering up and down these streets. Actually, my feet are killing me and I’d need to hire a carriage if I were to do much more than this, but yes, I could most definitely live here. What about you?”
“I don’t know,” Jeanette replied. She looked up at the trees they were passing under, the sky beyond them, the buildings rising up on either side. In Kansas, she could see quite a distance in almost every direction. Here, the buildings obscured her view anywhere but up.
“Perhaps I’ll just come visit you on long summer holidays.”
“Then I’ll be sure to live in a large house with plenty of guest bedrooms.”
Chapter Five
Monday morning, Miss Cantrell drilled the girls on the surgical instruments they’d been taught on Friday. Then she explained in detail what a nurse was expected to do during surgery. Jeanette did have an advantage over the other students because she had assisted Dr. Wayment and she had watched Miss Cantrell assist Dr. Russell, but she didn’t offer any comments or answer any of the questions posed to the group. She didn’t want to remind the others of her previous experience—Meg was still treating her unkindly, and she saw no reason to add more fuel to that particular fire.
After lunch, the students received their assignments. “Miss Anderson, you will be assisting Dr. Gregory at St. Timothy’s this afternoon,” Miss Cantrell said, reading off a list she held.
Jeanette held back a groan. Why couldn’t she be working with Dr. Haskell? Or Dr. Wentworth? Or even Dr. Saul? At least they could stand to be in the same room with her.
“I’d trade you if I could,” Sophie whispered. “I think Dr. Gregory’s handsome.”
“He is handsome,” Jeanette replied. “He’s just impossible to work with.”
Putting her feelings to the side, Jeanette tidied her hair, then walked over to the hospital with Millie, who had been assigned to help Dr. Wentworth.
“I wish we didn’t have to do this,” Millie said as they approached the building. “My stomach’s stuck in my throat.”
“Maybe you can be your own first surgical patient,” Jeanette said lightheartedly.
“Or I could get lucky and Dr. Wentworth won’t have any surgeries today.”
Millie sounded hopeful, and Jeanette laughed. “That would be nice, but from what Miss Cantrell said, these sounded like scheduled surgeries rather than emergencies. I think you’ll need to take a deep breath and do the best you can.”
Sea of Strangers (Nurses of New York Book 1) Page 4
