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Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

<h2 id="iv">4. Emergency Operation</h2> The following night Jean was on duty. She had just come up from early supper when she was called into Dr. Barsch’s office. “Miss Craig,” Dr. Barsch said briskly, “I haven’t much time to explain, but if you will get your sketch pad, I want you to try to do a drawing of an operation I’m about to perform. The little DuPrez boy is coming in immediately. Acute appendicitis. Loring says we can’t wait. I’ve already called the staff.” Jean gasped. “You mean, you want me to go right in there and do a drawing?” she asked. Dr. Barsch nodded. “You can’t learn surgical art any better way. I don’t expect to be able to use your sketch, but I want you to have the practice.” “Then you won’t use me to assist you?” she asked. Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “Naturally not. Now, please hurry. Get your materials, and I’ll see you upstairs.” Jean hurried to her room and snatched up her sketch pad and pencils. She ran down the hall towards the operating room and went into the small[43] lavatory to scrub. Two women were scouring the room, and Helen Pierce was sterilizing instruments. When Jean had finished scrubbing, Helen helped her with her gloves and mask. “This is a real emergency,” Helen muttered as she checked her instruments. “They always wait till the last minute before they call the doctor.” “Will it be a dangerous operation?” Jean asked. Helen shrugged. “That depends. Usually an appendectomy is a snap. That is, easy for the patient. But it can be ticklish if the appendix is ready to break open.” Dr. Barsch and Ted came in to scrub up. The girls worked in silence, and the only sound was that of the rushing water in the lavatory. Dr. Henry, the anesthetician, bustled in and, after scrubbing, came over to the sterilizer and peeked in. “I can’t use ether, Miss Pierce,” he said. “You should know that.” He grunted. “And if we could use a complete anesthetic, I’d choose sodium <ins title="Original has 'pentathol'">pentothal</ins>. But this will have to be a local block. The child undoubtedly has eaten today.” Helen nodded and went over to the cabinet. Carefully she selected an injection syringe with her tongs and dropped it into the sterilizer. Dr. Henry checked his supply of anesthetic, nodded, and rubbed his gloved hands together briskly. Jean frowned. “Why can’t you use ether, Dr. Henry?” she asked. [44] The portly, middle-aged anesthetician turned around to face her. “Some people get very sick when we put them out. Particles of food or liquid are apt to catch in their lungs. They haven’t the control of their reflexes that people who are awake do. There’s always the danger of a patient choking to death.” “Then the child will be conscious?” Jean asked. “He’ll know what’s going on? I know we’ve used that frequently for adults, but won’t it be difficult with a child?” Ted laughed. “He won’t know much. We already have him so groggy with sedatives that he doesn’t know what’s going on.” Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “What’s keeping them? Every minute we lose gives us less of a chance.” As he spoke, the small patient was wheeled into the operating room. Jean’s heart went out to the tiny, white figure lying on the table. His eyes were dulled, and his body was partially relaxed. But his face was a study in fear. Dr. Barsch stepped over to the table. “All right, son,” he said gently. “I’m going to put a curtain right over your middle. You know what you’re going to feel?” Gene DuPrez shook his head, and he gazed pleadingly at Dr. Barsch. “Ever been to the dentist?” The boy nodded. “And did he poke a needle into your gum so it[45] wouldn’t hurt when he drilled into your tooth?” Dr. Barsch asked. Gene nodded solemnly. Sally, who had come in with the boy, and Helen turned him over on his side and bent his legs up to meet his chest. “Well, we’re going to do the same thing now. We’re only going to hurt you enough to make you say, ‘ouch’.” Gene interrupted Dr. Barsch by saying, “Ouch!” “That’s it, Gene,” Dr. Barsch said. “You’re going to feel something else, now. Your toes will get all numb. Then your legs, and then your tummy. Now, I have a feather, and I’m going to tickle your tummy. You tell me when you can’t feel it any longer.” Sally drew the curtain across the boy’s abdomen so that he couldn’t see below his chest. Then she took her station by Gene’s head. Smiling down at him, she tousled his hair. “Feel kind of sleepy, don’t you?” she asked. “It still tickles,” Gene murmured. On the other side of the curtain, Dr. Barsch had made the incision. He smiled and silently gave thanks for the anesthetic which made a deep abdominal wound feel like a tickle. But his smile disappeared when he reached the appendix. “Oh, brother!” Ted said, shaking his head. Jean glanced at the open wound and began to sketch rapidly. “Here’s one we caught just in time,” Dr. Barsch[46] sighed. He spoke so low that Gene couldn’t hear him. “Look at that appendix. I’ll be lucky if I can get it out without breaking it. When, in heaven’s name, did you first see this boy?” he asked Ted. Ted bit his lip. “Ten minutes before we came over. I didn’t even stop to do a blood count on him. Let’s not talk about it. I get cold shivers up and down my back when I think of how close his mother came to giving him something for his stomach ache instead of calling a doctor.” Jean shuddered at the thought. “It still tickles, doctor,” Gene said in a piping voice. “I’ll tell you when it stops.” Jean grinned as she bent over her sketch. “Something just stopped her,” Ted continued. “She called me instead. A hunch, she said.” “God loves His small creatures,” Dr. Barsch replied. “All right, here we go.” He lifted the swollen appendix from the wound with great care. With a sigh of relief, he placed it carefully in a receptacle on the table. The distended organ broke as he laid it down. “Ye Gods!” Ted said, turning white. “That’s the closest one I’ve ever seen!” Dr. Barsch grinned as he started to sew up the incision. “It’s all over now, doctor. Gene, does it still tickle?” “A little bit,” the boy answered. “Not much.” “Good boy!” Dr. Barsch said. He finished his sewing and nodded. “What about now?” [47] “I don’t feel anything now,” Gene admitted. “You going to cut into my stomach now?” his face became tense with fear. Sally rubbed his forehead and grinned. “Too bad, Gene,” she said. “You missed the show.” Gene stared up at her. “What?” he asked. Dr. Barsch dressed the wound and pulled the curtain aside. “How do you feel?” he asked. “I’m ... I’m a little scared,” Gene admitted. Dr. Barsch laughed. “We just played a dirty trick on you, son. Your operation’s all over.” Sally gave the patient an injection, and he relaxed again. “You’re going to sleep for a while now. And when you wake up, you’ll be back in your room with a sore tummy.” Gene relaxed and slipped off to sleep as Sally and Helen wheeled him down the corridor. Dr. Barsch slipped off his gloves and glanced at the broken appendix. He shook his head. “Get that to the lab right away,” he said. “Miss Hancock can take it down when she gets back. Miss Craig, you come on down to my office with me. I want to take a look at that sketch.” When they reached Dr. Barsch’s office, Jean laid her sketch pad on the desk for Dr. Barsch to see. He picked it up and nodded. “Sit down, Miss Craig. Dr. Loring will be down in a minute. I want him to have a look at this, too. Then we’ll get some coffee. I could use some.” [48] Jean smiled. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and get some while we’re waiting,” she offered. “You must be tired.” Dr. Barsch waved his hand. “Sit down. The coffee can wait.” He tapped the sketch with his forefinger and looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. Then he searched among the papers on his desk for a letter. Finding it, he nodded his head as he read it over. “I think maybe we’ve found a way to put your talents to practical use, Miss Craig,” he said slowly. Jean jumped up. “Really?” she cried. “But how? I mean, I’m so far from ready to do anything useful with my art. Surgical art is such a specialized and highly skilled profession!” The doctor nodded gravely. “Yes, it most certainly is,” he said thoughtfully. “And of course the sketch you did for us just now is still rather amateurish. But I was right about you, I think. It shows a great deal of promise.” Jean grinned with pleasure. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said. Dr. Barsch picked up the letter again. “I’ve been in touch with a medical publisher about you. You see, whenever they hear of a promising young artist who knows something about medicine, they leap at the chance to sign him—or her—up. It doesn’t happen often. Not often enough, that an artist is also interested in medicine.” Jean clasped her hands together. “You mean, some publisher wants me to do drawings for him?” [49] Dr. Barsch laughed. “Not so fast, young lady. No, their offer isn’t quite that spectacular.” He rubbed his hands together. “But in a sense, I suppose maybe the offer is in its way more spectacular. You see, they want you to take more art courses.” “But ...” Jean began. The doctor held up his hand. “Wait till I finish,” he said. “I think it can all be figured out quite simply. You will finish your nurse’s training this summer. And then, as I understand it, you are thinking about being married.” Jean hesitated. “Of course no definite date has been set yet.” Dr. Barsch stroked his chin. “Well, let’s assume that the wedding will take place soon after your graduation. When you reach Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, you can begin a correspondence course in art, can’t you?” Jean grinned. “I had sort of planned to continue studying art after Ralph and I were married.” She looked down. “You see, I don’t want to forget my skills just because I’m being married.” The doctor grinned. “Fine! Fine!” he said. “Then my little plan can be worked. This publishing company is prepared to award you a sort of scholarship so that you can take the course. In return, you will have to make arrangements with a hospital near your home in Saskatchewan to attend their operations and do sketching for the company when you have completed the course.” Jean thought a moment. “There is a small hospital[50] near Ralph’s ranch,” she said. “Ralph has told me about it. Certainly I could make arrangements with them to sketch at their operations.” Dr. Barsch nodded. “Of course I’ll help you arrange things. I think maybe if they realize you’re a student of mine, there won’t be much trouble with the details.” “Someone open the door,” Ted called from outside. “I’ve got coffee for everyone.” Jean went over to the door. Ted brought in the tray and set it on the desk. “You should have let me get it,” Jean cried. Ted smiled. “Division of labor, my child. Dr. Barsch operates, you sketch and I just stand around. So I’m elected coffee boy.” “Take a look at Miss Craig’s sketch, Loring,” Dr. Barsch said, handing him the pad. “I think it’s pretty fair.” “That’s high praise, coming from you,” Ted laughed. He looked at it carefully. “Uh huh,” he said, nodding. “It looks swell. Jeannie, you could make a career out of doing this.” Jean laughed. “Dr. Barsch and I have just been discussing that.” “But of course you’re off to the altar, and there’s the end of a beautiful career,” Ted said dolefully. “Oh, no!” Jean cried. Dr. Barsch smiled slyly. “Sounds to me as if you are against marriage, Dr. Loring. I suppose Miss Simpson realizes this?” [51] Ted blushed. “Oh, marriage is all right,” he protested. Dr. Barsch lit his pipe. “Marriage is all right. Hm,” he said playfully. “I’ve a notion to tell Miss Simpson how enthusiastic you are about the institution of wedlock. You and your city ways! Moon and pussyfoot around and steal the best doggoned Supervisor of Nurses I ever had! All right, indeed!” Ted shifted painfully. “Oh, I’m very much in favor of marriage, doctor....” “That’s good to hear,” Dr. Barsch said. “It’s just that Jean draws so well....” “And Miss Simpson makes such a good Supervisor,” Dr. Barsch added. Ted squirmed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You can’t have her back!” He looked at Jean’s and Dr. Barsch’s faces. They were grinning. “Dr. Barsch, you shouldn’t tease him so,” Jean said lightly. “Isn’t it all right to tell him about the plan?” Dr. Barsch puffed at his pipe. “Of course, my dear.” Breathlessly, Jean repeated Dr. Barsch’s plans for her to Ted. The young doctor nodded and clapped his hands together in agreement. “Marvelous idea, Jeannie,” he said. “I think Ralph will like the idea, too.” <hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> [52] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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