Page 13 of Healing Hazel

Dr. Jackson spoke again to the pink-cheeked nurse, who released the pressure on Mikel’s abdomen. The wound bled only slightly. The doctor moved to stand beside Hazel.

The younger nurse cut away the patient’s shirt, coordinating her movements with Hazel to keep the artery compressed as they pulled off the sleeve. The woman peeled away the cloths that covered his arm and used a sponge to wipe away the blood.

The older nurse held her fingers to Mikel’s neck, and after a moment, she surprised Hazel by speaking in French, reporting what Hazel assumed was his pulse rate.

Dr. Jackson set to work, requesting in Spanish the instruments he required. Hazel tried to commit the names to memory.Pinzas, she decided meant forceps, andescalpelowas the word for scalpel. She mouthed the words silently.

The doctor worked quickly, speaking only when necessary. Hazel watched, fascinated as he reattached ligaments and repaired tendons. He used ligatures of silk thread to tie off the arteries and blood vessels. She leaned closer to get a better view. Though she had read about the muscular system of the human body in her anatomy book, seeing it directly was something new, and it fascinated her.

Dr. Jackson glanced at her. “You may release his arm now, slowly.”

Hazel opened her fingers carefully, watching to see if the bleeding returned.

After a moment, Dr. Jackson nodded. “Good. We’ll not need to cauterize.”

The older nurse reported again on Mikel’s pulse.

Dr. Jackson pursed his lips together. He spoke to the younger nurse, and she threaded catgut into a suture needle. His manner was calm, but he wasn’t relaxed, and Hazel considered how difficult it must be to manage a surgery where he was required not only to tend to serious wounds but to do so while speaking three different languages.

“Hold the skin together, if you please, Miss Thornton.”

Hazel blinked, glancing at him and waiting for him to realize his mistake. The other nurse was surely more experienced. But perhaps he asked Hazel because she was in the best position to perform the task. She reached toward Mikel’s arm but hesitated, unsure of how exactly she was meant to follow through on his orders.

“With forceps, like this.” Dr. Jackson guided her hands, showing her how to hold the instrument to pinch the edges of the wound closed. “Good.”

Standing so near in the small room, the doctor had to lean over Hazel to do his work, his shoulder nearly brushing her face. Her pulse jumped at his closeness. She tilted her head to the side to watch. He made the suture knots impossibly fast, snipping them off and starting on the next. In only a few short moments, he was finished.

“Vitaux?” he asked the older nurse.

She reported back.

“Bandage his arm, please,” Dr. Jackson said to Hazel. “But not tightly.”

She took bandages from the shelf behind her and wrapped Mikel’s arm carefully, moving it as little as possible. As she worked, she smelled a sweet odor. She recognized it immediately as carbolic acid and, looking up, saw the nurse adding the liquid to a bowl of water, then using the dilution to clean the instruments.

Dr. Jackson had already turned his attention to the bullet wound.

The young nurse set a small metal bowl on the man’s chest and handed the doctor a pair of long forceps at his order.

“The key is to get the bullet out through the same path it went in,” he said as he worked. “We want to do the least amount of damage to the tissue.”

Hazel realized he was speaking in English. He was speaking to her.

“Is there internal damage, Doctor?”

He pulled out the forceps, dropping the bullet into the tray with a plink, then looked back into the wound. He pressed on the sides, and only a small amount of blood came from the puncture. Then he bent and sniffed. “I don’t believe so,” he said. “Wound appears clean. Seems to have missed his organs completely.”

Sweat beaded on Dr. Jackson’s forehead.

Without thinking, Hazel used a swatch of bandage to dab it.

He glanced at her, and Hazel blushed, but the doctor didn’t look angry.

The young nurse threaded the suture needle again.

Once he was finished, Dr. Jackson stood straight, bending his neck from side to side and rubbing his lower back. He spoke to the young nurse, and she left the room.

The older nurse removed the anesthetic cone.

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