cute.”
“Yeah.”
After listening to the patient’s lungs, Lilly knelt and used the bell for auscultation of the four quadrants of the ponderous abdomen. Obvious to her, heart disease was causing copious amounts of fluid to collect, which pressed against the diaphragm, thus the labored breathing. “May I?” she asked again before hanging her stethoscope around her neck and lifting the hem of Mrs. Eldridge’s long skirt. Lilly had to stop herself from shaking her head in dismay, for as she had expected, the lady’s feet and ankles were hugely swollen. The flesh dented when she pressed with her fingertip. She’d learned to rate the pitting with numbers: one plus, two plus, three plus, or four. This had to be four plus plus plus, if there was such a score.
“Do your feet and ankles hurt?” she asked, sure of the answer. She couldn’t imagine how the poor woman walked about.
“Pains me some.” Long wheeze. “Mostly wearies me.”
“Do you want me to get the bucket?” Armina asked.
“Bucket?”
“For the water. Old Doc drains her belly ever couple of visits. He ain’t been here for a long time. That’s why she’s got so bad.”
“Hmm,” Lilly said, giving thought to the problem. Surely there was a chapter in one of her medical texts titled “Drawing Water Other Than from the Well.”
“Pity,” Mrs. Eldridge gasped.
“Pardon?” Lilly asked.
“Old Doc,” she said.
“Tragedy,” Lilly said, truly. She could have learned a lot from Old Doc.
A white enamelware bucket clanked against the rough wooden floor. “Here you go,” Armina said.
Bubby grasped the black-trimmed rim and pulled himself up. His grin spread ear to ear before Sissy jerked him back down.
“Good girl,” Armina said. “Last thing I need’s for him to start walking.”
From where she knelt on the floor, Lilly could see inside the bucket. It held a long, skinny packet of gauze and a brown rubber suction bulb.
“It’s Aunt Orie’s silver tube,” Armina said. “I boiled it clean just like Old Doc showed me.”
Of course, Lilly thought, a trocar. Old Doc drained the fluid from Mrs. Eldridge’s abdomen by way of the sharply pointed surgical instrument contained in a metal cannula. Her mind scrambled backward through many lectures and demonstrations to a day in clinical when she’d observed the treatment of a patient with the same symptoms as these. The difference was the woman that day had been skin and bones. The only thing big about her had been her belly, whereas Mrs. Eldridge was markedly obese and not just from retained fluid. It would be a challenge, but fat or skinny the treatment would be the same.
“I’ll need to wash up,” she said, standing.
A teakettle whistled. “Water’s hot,” Armina said. “I’ll fix you a pan.”
“Let’s get our patient settled first,” Lilly said. “Mrs. Eldridge, will you be able to walk to the bed?”
“Don’t stand on ceremony,” she labored to say. “I’m plain Aunt Orie.”
“Of course,” Lilly said. “Thank you.”
Armina positioned her body in front the chair. “Grab hold.”
It was then Lilly noticed the knotted rope suspended from the ceiling. Aunt Orie reached overhead, grabbed the rope above the double knot with both hands, and heaved herself upright. The chair tipped forward and Sissy scooted free. Bubby laughed and clapped his chubby hands.
With support on both sides, Aunt Orie shuffled lock-kneed to the bed, which Lilly saw was made up with linen sheeting folded over a rubber mackintosh sheet. Managing to turn herself around, Aunt Orie dropped down. The mattress sighed under her weight.
“Lie on your side as close to the edge as possible,” Lilly said.
Armina positioned a stack of pillows. “We know what to do.”
Lilly waited for Armina to pour the hot water before she scrubbed up. It was always best to remember whose kitchen you were in so you wouldn’t overstep your bounds.
Armina washed and oiled her aunt’s belly before
“Yeah.”
After listening to the patient’s lungs, Lilly knelt and used the bell for auscultation of the four quadrants of the ponderous abdomen. Obvious to her, heart disease was causing copious amounts of fluid to collect, which pressed against the diaphragm, thus the labored breathing. “May I?” she asked again before hanging her stethoscope around her neck and lifting the hem of Mrs. Eldridge’s long skirt. Lilly had to stop herself from shaking her head in dismay, for as she had expected, the lady’s feet and ankles were hugely swollen. The flesh dented when she pressed with her fingertip. She’d learned to rate the pitting with numbers: one plus, two plus, three plus, or four. This had to be four plus plus plus, if there was such a score.
“Do your feet and ankles hurt?” she asked, sure of the answer. She couldn’t imagine how the poor woman walked about.
“Pains me some.” Long wheeze. “Mostly wearies me.”
“Do you want me to get the bucket?” Armina asked.
“Bucket?”
“For the water. Old Doc drains her belly ever couple of visits. He ain’t been here for a long time. That’s why she’s got so bad.”
“Hmm,” Lilly said, giving thought to the problem. Surely there was a chapter in one of her medical texts titled “Drawing Water Other Than from the Well.”
“Pity,” Mrs. Eldridge gasped.
“Pardon?” Lilly asked.
“Old Doc,” she said.
“Tragedy,” Lilly said, truly. She could have learned a lot from Old Doc.
A white enamelware bucket clanked against the rough wooden floor. “Here you go,” Armina said.
Bubby grasped the black-trimmed rim and pulled himself up. His grin spread ear to ear before Sissy jerked him back down.
“Good girl,” Armina said. “Last thing I need’s for him to start walking.”
From where she knelt on the floor, Lilly could see inside the bucket. It held a long, skinny packet of gauze and a brown rubber suction bulb.
“It’s Aunt Orie’s silver tube,” Armina said. “I boiled it clean just like Old Doc showed me.”
Of course, Lilly thought, a trocar. Old Doc drained the fluid from Mrs. Eldridge’s abdomen by way of the sharply pointed surgical instrument contained in a metal cannula. Her mind scrambled backward through many lectures and demonstrations to a day in clinical when she’d observed the treatment of a patient with the same symptoms as these. The difference was the woman that day had been skin and bones. The only thing big about her had been her belly, whereas Mrs. Eldridge was markedly obese and not just from retained fluid. It would be a challenge, but fat or skinny the treatment would be the same.
“I’ll need to wash up,” she said, standing.
A teakettle whistled. “Water’s hot,” Armina said. “I’ll fix you a pan.”
“Let’s get our patient settled first,” Lilly said. “Mrs. Eldridge, will you be able to walk to the bed?”
“Don’t stand on ceremony,” she labored to say. “I’m plain Aunt Orie.”
“Of course,” Lilly said. “Thank you.”
Armina positioned her body in front the chair. “Grab hold.”
It was then Lilly noticed the knotted rope suspended from the ceiling. Aunt Orie reached overhead, grabbed the rope above the double knot with both hands, and heaved herself upright. The chair tipped forward and Sissy scooted free. Bubby laughed and clapped his chubby hands.
With support on both sides, Aunt Orie shuffled lock-kneed to the bed, which Lilly saw was made up with linen sheeting folded over a rubber mackintosh sheet. Managing to turn herself around, Aunt Orie dropped down. The mattress sighed under her weight.
“Lie on your side as close to the edge as possible,” Lilly said.
Armina positioned a stack of pillows. “We know what to do.”
Lilly waited for Armina to pour the hot water before she scrubbed up. It was always best to remember whose kitchen you were in so you wouldn’t overstep your bounds.
Armina washed and oiled her aunt’s belly before
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