August 15, 1793
I was unshackling his ankles, as he spoke his first words since he got here.
The doctor looked stunned, but he tried to stay calm as he talked. "Well, we haven't exactly figured that out yet, sir... We assume it is a... Well, a new sickness. Hopefully it isn't very contagious, but we have had a few in more cases. At the moment, though... We are calling it the Yellow Plague." His voice wavered uncertainly, and he stuttered a few times, but it was barely noticeable.
The man nodded, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ready for us to give him a checkup and check his vital signs. We took Hus blood pressure and recorded his heart rate. We checked his tongue and throat, then looked in his eyes, ears, and nose.
Everything was fine except his throat, eyes, and heart rate. And of course, his skin. It was yellow, and easily bruised, covered in welts and bruises and scratches. His eyes were blood shot and also had a yellow tint to them. His throat was red and raw, but that was probably from all of the screaming and the sickness combined. And his heart rate was higher than it should have been. Unusually higher. Not just higher like he was unfit, but higher like he was really sick.
I was the only nurse left when Doctor Cal was finishing up his checkup. He sighed quietly, as if he were tired of doing this every day, then smiled up at the patient and stood. "Well, everything is just like yesterday... Except a few things. Your throat is rawer, probably from the screaming; you seem to be more... Weak. Do you feel any weaker then you did yesterday?"
The man took a minute before nodding. "It's a bit harder to breath and move, but not by much."
The doctor nodded and looked at his papers, flipping through a couple of them before looking back up at the man. "I assume that's normal, but I don't know what with the fact that this is new to me. Also, your skin seems so much tenderer... Does it feel weird?"
The man shook his head.
The doctor stood and sighed. "Well, I will have to go over these in my office. I will come and check on you soon."
The man nodded and laid back down.
I smiled at him, and covered him up. "Have a nice day, sir."
He nodded and smiled back at me. "Good day."
YOU ARE READING
As The Yellow Storm Approaches
Historical Fiction"August 18, 1793, This heat is killing me. But I am so cold. My body shivers as if I had just run out in the snow barefoot, but I sweat as if I just ran with a herd of wild horses. My hands were shakey as I lifted them up to inspect them. My skin lo...
