Friday, April 19, early morning
Dr. Cushman’s wife took one look at Nell and brought her to their parlor to lie down.
Mr. Bascomb, Dr. Cushman, and I lifted the plank Owen was on off the wagon and carried it into the doctor’s office, where we laid him on a long pine table in the middle of the room. Owen’s face, which I could just see under the blankets we’d piled on top of him, was chalky, and the medicine the doctor had given him was beginning to wear off. I hoped he wouldn’t think too much about the stuffed birds hanging on the walls around the office.
Dr. Cushman took one of the knives from an assortment of saws and blades on a side table and cut off the right leg of Owen’s trousers. Owen winced as the blue wool pulled away from where his bone had broken through the skin. Now-clotted blood had stiffened the material and attached it to his muscle and skin.
Dr. Cushman put a white tablet in Owen’s mouth. “Swallow this; it’ll make the pain easier to bear.” He took a basin of water and washed the grit and dirt and blood off Owen’s leg. Then he looked at Mr. Bascomb and me.
“Are you both steady enough to hold the boy while I set this bone? We’ll give him a few minutes for the opium to work, but then I’ll need to manipulate the bone and put it back inside. If either of you aren’t able to do this, tell me now. My wife’s helped me before. I can get her.”
I didn’t want to be there. But I also didn’t want to be replaced by Dr. Cushman’s wife. I glanced at Mr. Bascomb. He was just looking at Owen, holding his hand.
“I can do it, sir,” I said.
Mr. Bascomb nodded. “Go ahead. Get it over with.”
The tablet must have been strong. Owen appeared as though he didn’t see us—as though he was falling asleep.
“Hold the boy straight, then,” said Dr. Cushman. “Bascomb, you hold his head and shoulders, and don’t let him move. Joe, put one hand on his right hip and the other on his right knee, and hold them down. Don’t let them move. I’ll do this as quickly as I can.”
The doctor rolled up his sleeves, and before we knew it he’d taken hold of the bone sticking out of Owen’s leg and started pushing it back in, pulling the skin right over it.
I watched for a moment, and then couldn’t look anymore. I concentrated on holding Owen down. His body under my hands got tighter and tighter. I felt it strain and try to move. I pushed down harder, as though I were pushing, pushing him down through the table. I couldn’t see or feel anything except that table and my hands. I didn’t even think about Owen. Just about keeping my hands down, and still.
I can’t tell you how long it all lasted. It seemed an hour. Probably it was five or six minutes.
Finally Dr. Cushman’s voice said, “You can let go. It’s done.”
I stepped back. Owen’s bone was hidden. An angry jagged tear in the skin marked where the bone had been.
“Is he going to be all right?” asked Mr. Bascomb.
“I hope so,” said Dr. Cushman. “Unless infection sets in; that’s the biggest danger.” He was wrapping the wounded leg in clean bandages. Owen lay quietly.
“I’ll put a splint on him now; he’ll sleep for an hour or two. In the morning we’ll take him home in the wagon. Make sure he rests for a couple of days, and then he can walk, using a crutch. If the leg gets red or swells up, let me know immediately. We might have to amputate. The break was clean, but since it broke through the skin, and he was outside for so long, there’s danger of gangrene. Only time will tell.”
Amputate! I looked down at Owen, as Dr. Cushman bound two small boards around his leg, one on each side, to hold the break together.
“I’ll give you a few of the opium pills to use later, when he’s home. He can have one every four hours for the first three days, for pain. After that I’ll stop in to see how he’s doing,” Dr. Cushman said to Mr. Bascomb. “There’s nothing more we can do for him now. Why don’t you go home and tell your wife how he is? Mrs. Cushman and I will take good care of him until you get back.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Mr. Bascomb. “My wife will be waiting for news. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Thank you for everything you’ve done for my boy.”
He bent down and gently put his hand on Owen’s forehead. Then he left.
“Now, Joe,” said Dr. Cushman, “let’s go see about that young lady you brought with you.”