Authors: Leen Elle
Nathaniel gave a small smile, watching her wide eyes as she gazed upon it, and scratched his head, "It's just blood, Gaily."
"I know."
"It's happened millions of times before."
"Not as long as I've known you."
"Just because you've never seen it, that doesn't mean it hasn't happened."
"You don't . . . you don't have consumption, do you?"
"No, no. 'Course not."
"How do you know? Have you checked with the doctors?"
"For Christ's sake . . . You think I'm just making this all up?"
"I don't know."
"I don't have consumption, Gail. I'd know if I did," he smiled again, "And you needn't be so worried. I'm fine."
"I know. I just don't like to see it there, right in front of me. It's rather scary."
""I've got plenty of blood left in me, I assure you."
"But if it were to continue, perhaps there wouldn't be."
"Gail . . ." he chuckled, "I never knew you were the sort to get worried over something as simple as this.
It's
a few speckles of blood! It's nothing!"
"It's not
nothing
! Look at that handkerchief! It's practically drenched and . . ."
"If it's going to bother you that much, I'll just get rid of it . . ." Nathaniel leaned over and set the handkerchief behind some stacks of newspapers, "There! Now we don't have to talk about handkerchiefs or consumption or coughing up all my blood anymore."
"Nathaniel . . ." Gail groaned, half mournfully and half angrily.
"It's your turn, you know."
Gail groaned again, but drew her card and continued the game nevertheless.
*****
"Have you been experiencing any fatigue?"
"Hopson . . ." Nathaniel grumbled, "You ask me that every time you come in here and every time I answer yes. What do you think?"
"I'm only asking a simple question, Mr. West," the old man chattered, "If you'll just . . ."
"Yes, for Christ's sake, yes!
I'm always experiencing fatigue!"
"And has there been any lightheadedness?"
"Of course."
"Any violent coughing, sneezing?"
"Of course."
As Dr. Hopson continued to bombard Nathaniel with questions and scribble madly in his notebook, Dr. Fitzgerald eyed Gail and raised an eyebrow.
"Still residing in Wickensville, Miss St. James?"
"No, I'm residing in Brazil actually."
The old man crossed his arms with a huff, "I can't believe your mother and father will agree to let you stay in a faraway town like this one all on your own. You're not even sixteen."
"My parents are dead, Dr. Fitzgerald," Gail raised an eyebrow, "So thank you for bringing up so many unpleasant memories. I appreciate it immensely, I assure you."
He huffed again and mumbled an apology, which Gail readily accepted, before continuing to grumble about how she ought to leave the room during their examinations. They continued their bickering while Dr. Hopson looked over Nathaniel.
"Your
temperature's
dropped," he observed, "That's odd."
"Everything's odd. That's life."
"And your heart beat's abnormally slow."
Dr. Fitzgerald left Gail to join his colleague at Nathaniel's side, "Have you been feeling much worse in the past day or so, Mr. West?"
Nathaniel shrugged, "It hasn't been the best day, but not terribly worse, I don't think."
"You're looking pale, have you been eating enough?"
"I just ate a full supper."
"Were you given all your medications properly?"
"'Course."
"He nearly choked on all those pills," Gail muttered from the back.
Dr. Fitzgerald raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him for a moment before asking of Nathaniel, "And have you been very stressed or felt as though you strained your efforts during the period of the day?
Another argument with the nurses or Miss St. James, perhaps?"
"Everything's my fault, isn't it?" came Gail's voice once more, "It's my fault that Nathaniel's 'strained himself.' It's my fault that he's not eating your
lovely
hospital food. It's my fault that I'm going to hell since I'd rather sit in here than go to church on Sunday. And it's my fault that I accidentally fell asleep in here the other day. You're still upset about that, aren't you? You know, doctor, I'm probably helping Nathaniel. Laughter is the best medicine after all and . . ."
Dr. Fitzgerald interrupted her, his eyebrows knitted together in anxiety, "First of all, Miss St. James, I'm not still upset about your falling asleep in here. You're the one who brought it up! And apparently doctors aren't allowed to interfere with the hospital's decisions. Because if they could, I'd make sure that silly little girls weren't dozing off on the beds of severely ill young men!"
"It was only my head! It's not like I was lying beside him. And I
knew
you were still upset about it!"
"Miss St. James! Please! And second, I would hardly say that you've aided Mr. West by your presence. He's worse already! And this constant yelling can hardly be doing any good! He's probably worn himself out and it
is
your fault!"
Gail crossed her arms, "Well I never!"
Dr. Hopson, raising his hands at both his colleague and Gail, spoke above both their voices, though his own was soft and calm, "Please, please! Doctor Fitzgerald. Miss St. James. Let us decide what is wrong with the patient and what should be done about it before your argument continues . . . Are you
quite
sure, Mr. West, nothing out of the ordinary has occurred today?"
"I don't think so . . . but, well . . . Well, I did cough up a bit of blood earlier but I wouldn't say that's exactly out of the ordinary. It's happened before."
Dr. Hopson's eyes narrowed, "How much blood exactly?"
Nathaniel shrugged, "A bit."
"It covered his whole handkerchief," said Gail.
Nathaniel scratched his head, "That, and there was some in the night too. Edith had to change my pillow cases and I, er . . . I went through a few handkerchiefs during the night too."
"You say this has happened before?"
Nathaniel nodded.
"In the same amounts as before too?"
"Well, there might have been a bit more today than other times . . . I can't be sure. It's not like I measured it or anything."
Dr. Hopson and Dr. Fitzgerald exchanged a quick, uncertain glance.
"I don't know exactly what sort of effect this may place upon our results, but it's an event worthy of our attention to be sure," said Dr. Fitzgerald.
Dr. Hopson nodded in assent, "Perhaps we ought to do some research and discuss this a bit, Dr. Fitzgerald, before deciding what ought to be done."
"Yes, yes, I couldn't agree more."
"We shall be back in the course of the evening, Mr. West."
"Until then, it would be best if Miss St. James were to stay with you and alert the nurses should any drastic change occur in your health while we're out. If his temperature drops even more or if more blood is lost, call in Carolyn."
"He hasn't got consumption, has he?" Gail asked quickly, "Because I told him that he . . ."
"My God, Gail," Nathaniel moaned, "I told you that I . . ."
"I truly doubt that it is tuberculosis, Miss St. James," said Dr. Hopson, "If it were, the other usual symptoms would be more apparent. Night sweats, loss of appetite, weight loss, fever, chills. He may be a bit chilled at the moment and he is, of course, very thin- but a more dramatic weight loss would have occurred if he caught tuberculosis. So now, if you'll please excuse us . . ."
The two men left, scratching their heads and searching through their brains for some sort of an answer that might explain this unexpected change in Nathaniel's condition. They rushed down to the hospital's archives, looking through every file that might somehow relate, and racked through all sorts of medical journals and books. Never before had they seen a patient with an illness so completely indefinable. Ever since he'd arrived in Wickensville and been placed in their care, they'd wondered and examined and sought to find an answer to his ailment. But still, after weeks of careful examination, they had no answer. And now, with this added shock of his drop in temperature and loss of blood, their curiosity only heightened.
To keep him feeling as healthy as they could and to prevent any worsening in his condition, up until this point they had given him several treatments- in the form of all his pills and vaccines- to cure him of various afflictions. And it had worked seamlessly thus far, giving them an adequate reason to believe his illness was truly just a large mixture of many various other diseases. So, in order to cure him of his newest malady, they sought the treatment for a disease in which such symptoms were common. And once this information had been obtained, they returned to Nathaniel's room to present their results.
The two doctors, though Nathaniel thought them to be loony old men, were actually quite accomplished in their area of work. They knew very quickly that the symptoms shown by their patient in the past hour were of a very serious nature. Their results for his recovery were not bright and, even more unfortunately, they were not, in any way, certain. Each potential procedure had its own positive and negative aspects and neither doctor could state for certain which would be best for Nathaniel. They only knew that they must act quickly.
His options were as follows.
One, he could simply continue as he was now in hope that his temperature would return to normal quickly and that his coughing up blood would cease immediately.
Two, he could attempt a rarely successful treatment which, although it was usually rather painful, may have a chance at returning him to good health. It would involve the injection of a vaccine into his arm three times per day. But, the chance of immediate good health was very small indeed.
Three, they could take him into surgery and operate on the organ involved in his disease. Although it was not an easy operation, there was a fifty percent chance that he would, after recovery, be in the best health of his life. But, on the opposite side, there was also a fifty percent chance that the operation could be fatal. The smallest mistake in the operating room could easily result in the loss of life.