Post by Jacob Amersyng on Oct 2, 2011 18:49:55 GMT -5
Walking into the small house behind the frumpy pale woman, the smell of infection reaching his well trained nose, a harsh bitter smell. On a small pallet in the back of the main room, near the hearth lay an weatherworn man, his clothes wrinkled from many nights tossing and sweating with fever. His leg had a filthy rag tied about it near his knee, stained with dried blood and the punky green pus of deep infection. He frowned deeply, moving towards the man, his hand already upon the latch of his satchel.
Kneeling, he speaks, knowing full well the delirious man won't even know he's there.
"Sir...can you hear me? My name's Jacob, I've come to see about your leg..." He speaks softly, the man moaning from some far off plane. He sets down his bag, opening the clasp and pulling out a few bottles. Selecting a thin vial, he pulls the cork. He tilts the man's head back gently, slowly dripping a few ruby droplets onto his tongue.
As the man slips into a disturbed drugged slumber, he reaches into the bag, pulling a small pair of scissors and a smooth silver blade. The woman's eyes grow wide at the sight of his tools, and he frowns a little. Deftly, he snips the bandage off, pulling at the scabs that the rough fabric has melded with and releasing a flushing of blood. Underneath is a gorey sight, rotting flesh and pus surrounding a deep angry blackening gash, too long gone without proper care. He looks up, his eyes meeting the woman's.
"Best prognosis...he loses flesh due to the debriding. Worst, I cannot get the wound clean enough and he loses the leg."
she gasps, holding her hand to her mouth. "B..b...but, if Harold loses his leg, we will be sunk! How will he work?"
Shrugging, he turns back to his patient. "Afraid I may have no choice...this is very bad. You really should have sent for someone sooner." He gingerly prodded at the wound, releasing a fresh oozing of yellowy pus. He knew what he must do, but this woman hovering wasn't going to make it easy. "I need you to put some water on the fire to boil and bring me a large supply of rags. This won't be pretty, I warn you now, but it must be done. Also...if you have any strong liquor in the house, we will need that as well." He looked at the wound again, adding, "and some tar..."
As she hurried off to fetch his request, he carefully laid out the saw, the hammer and the chisel...
((1/20/11))
Kneeling, he speaks, knowing full well the delirious man won't even know he's there.
"Sir...can you hear me? My name's Jacob, I've come to see about your leg..." He speaks softly, the man moaning from some far off plane. He sets down his bag, opening the clasp and pulling out a few bottles. Selecting a thin vial, he pulls the cork. He tilts the man's head back gently, slowly dripping a few ruby droplets onto his tongue.
As the man slips into a disturbed drugged slumber, he reaches into the bag, pulling a small pair of scissors and a smooth silver blade. The woman's eyes grow wide at the sight of his tools, and he frowns a little. Deftly, he snips the bandage off, pulling at the scabs that the rough fabric has melded with and releasing a flushing of blood. Underneath is a gorey sight, rotting flesh and pus surrounding a deep angry blackening gash, too long gone without proper care. He looks up, his eyes meeting the woman's.
"Best prognosis...he loses flesh due to the debriding. Worst, I cannot get the wound clean enough and he loses the leg."
she gasps, holding her hand to her mouth. "B..b...but, if Harold loses his leg, we will be sunk! How will he work?"
Shrugging, he turns back to his patient. "Afraid I may have no choice...this is very bad. You really should have sent for someone sooner." He gingerly prodded at the wound, releasing a fresh oozing of yellowy pus. He knew what he must do, but this woman hovering wasn't going to make it easy. "I need you to put some water on the fire to boil and bring me a large supply of rags. This won't be pretty, I warn you now, but it must be done. Also...if you have any strong liquor in the house, we will need that as well." He looked at the wound again, adding, "and some tar..."
As she hurried off to fetch his request, he carefully laid out the saw, the hammer and the chisel...
((1/20/11))