Between the Raindrops

A Horse and a House Call

"Oh," she said. "I... I did not even know homes were built this way."

"Cool in summer and toasty in the winter," the girl said, shouldering the door open. "Pa figures we almost got enough saved for a proper house!"

The home was small but warm and dry. It smelled of earth and boiled beef. They had plastered the walls with newspapers, to keep the dirt and dust contained. There floor was made up of wooden planks.

Mrs. Buller greeted her in the kitchen. A steely woman with dark hair and bright eyes and nearly as tall as her sturdy husband.

"Thank you," she said. "For findin' yer way in this! Let me take your coat, Doctor. I'll try to dry it out by the fire."

"Thank you."

Emelia was led into a little back room containing the children's narrow bunks. A single lamp burned weakly on a little nightstand. Emelia carried her own little glass lamp to get a better look.

The boy, more a young man, was doubled over, groaning, holding his right lower abdomen. He sweated profusely, his sandy hair darkened to brown.

"When did this start?" Emelia asked.

"Before dinner, I reckon," Mrs. Buller said from behind her. "He said he weren't hungry. And our Jimmy is always, hungry. Then he started feeling funny. Said he felt green. The pain set in, and then Jeb ran to the neighbor."

"It... it really hurts, Doc."

Emelia kneeled next to the bed and pressed her hand to his forehead. Burning up for certain.

"When you press down, or when you release?"

"When I let go."

Emelia smiled softly and nodded. "You're doing marvelous," she said. She took his vitals, noting his true temperature and checked his pulse. "Stay strong and we'll get you fixed up."

"A, Alright..."

Emelia went back into the main room. "I'm thinking it's appendicitis..." she thought aloud, just as Mr. Buller came in from the rain. "It can be deadly. I'll need to remove his appendix."

"His what?"

"An inflamed appendix. It is what is causing him all that pain."

"Don't he need it?" Mrs. Buller asked, skeptical.

"It's... well, we're not sure what it does," Emelia admitted. "It doesn't seem to do anything, to be honest."

"I dunno, Miss," Mr. Buller said. "Jimmy don't look up to traveling."

"He won't have to travel," Emelia replied. "We'll do the operation here."

"Here?"

"Where else? Time is of the essence."

"I... I dunno," Mrs. Buller said, balking. "Doc Thompson never operates in homes. Says it ain't proper."

"Not proper?" Emelia asked. "While I admit a proper surgery is best, we simply do not have the time. How pray tell, would Doctor Thompson deal with a rupturing appendix?"

Mr. Buller frowned, doubtful. "Well... to be honest, we've never heard of erupting body parts til you showed up, miss."

Emelia drew in a breath, stung by the insinuation.

"Doctor Thompson just makes the pain go away when he visits," Mrs Buller explained.

"Please," Emelia implored. Thinking of the boy in the next room and trying to stay calm lest they accuse her of hysteria. "Can you think back to this ever happening to anyone else? Has anyone ever... expired at home, unable to get to Blackwater?"

"Well..." Jeb Buller started. No doctor could be so lucky, Emelia knew.

"Do you think you can get him to town?"

The farmer looked in on his boy, still doubled over and groaning miserably, the worry etched into his weather-beaten face. Debating the distance and the weather and his son's obvious distress. He looked back to Emelia. "What are you waitin' for?"

Emelia took stock of the room. A far, far cry from an operation theater.

"I'll need the table covered in a clean sheet, if you have. And more light. Please, as much light as possible. And water. We must wash."

The family did as commanded. Emelia rigged the lanterns, trying to minimize the casting of shadows and set them to full light. Jimmy was moved, despite the pain, to the kitchen table, which had been prepped with a relatively clean strip of bedding.

Mr. Buller returned with a bucket of rain water. Emelia unbuttoned her fitted sleeves and rolled them passed her elbows. She scrubbed herself, from her elbows to her fingertips with lye and then wiped down with her prepared carbolic solution. She had Mr. and Mrs. Buller do the same. She set out her stainless-steel instruments on a gauze towel and wiped them down again. She washed Jimmy's abdomen, too. Always with the precious solution. Methodical. Precise.

Calm... stay calm, Emma.

The family watched all her preparation with muted fascination. Or perhaps dread.

Emelia looked at Jimmy's sister. Lilly, they called her. "I need one to stay, to handle the dropper, and in case I need an extra set of hands... but the others may want to go to the other room," she suggested. "This...won't be easy to watch."

"Here's some whiskey," Mr. Buller offered. Liquid amber in the light. "For,... well...you know."

Emelia took the bottle and, to Mr. Buller's surprise, drank a large pull for herself. The liquid burnt all the way down and settled, like a hot coal in the pit of her stomach. For Jimmy, she prepared the ether.