“Yes, you have diagnosed the case correctly beyond a doubt, and now for the remedy—I see you have three suggested, but first, let me know more about the case.” Then he plied me with questions. By this time I was greatly embarrassed; a suspicious twinkle in his eye, as he remarked that the nurse herself must be a unique person, made me uncomfortable. Finally he queried, “Who is this ‘old school physician’ who had the case?”
“Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes,” I confessed timorously.
How he laughed! Hastening to explain and apologize, I told him how I had come to present the case to him, and that only on the spur of the moment had I conceived the idea of offering it as a real case. He had seen from the start that there was something queer, but was at a loss to unravel the mystery. After a jolly chat about it, he discussed the symptoms as seriously with me as though it had been a case in real life; so I went to the Society meeting in great glee, hoodwinking them until their answers were turned in, then telling them the whole story.
The experiences of that second-year vacation kept pace with the advance in our studies. Uncles, aunts, and cousins, school-mates, neighbours, and chance acquaintances came rehearsing their aches and pains, expecting me in my inexperience to help them promptly. I took them all seriously. I was a good listener, but was often of little further help. So many of them had complaints about which we had as yet had no lectures. Still I had the hope and confidence that go with youth, and the temerity to “rush in” where the more experienced might fear to tread.
The coloured woman who did our washing asked me to attend her in confinement—her confidence in me was touching; for, although we had had our lectures in obstetrics, and I had been to a few cases with seniors, I had then managed none myself. But Josie had had several children so would be likely, I thought, to have an easy time; and, if I should need help, I could call on Dr. Campbell—the physician for whom I had had the girlish infatuation.
It was a hot Fourth of July when they called me. Josie’s poor little home was a paradise in neatness and order compared to those I had frequented in dispensary practice. I felt quite elated at the prospect of managing a case alone. But from my first examination I felt uneasy, seeing that I had a different condition to deal with than any encountered in my limited experience. As labour progressed, to my consternation I found the cord, instead of the head, presenting, so knew that I had a case of transverse presentation—one which would require turning and speedy delivery to save the child. Of course I was incompetent to do this, nor would it have been lawful to attempt it, being an undergraduate.
Dr. Campbell responded promptly to my summons, performed version, and delivered the child and the adherent placenta. I managed the after-care without difficulty. Josie was glad of her enforced rest in bed. In the days preceding her confinement I had gone past her house and seen her, big with child, standing at the ironing-board, late at night, thus supporting her family while her great lazy husband, John Wesley Freeman, would loll about all day, then sit by her at night and read the Bible and exhort as she stood ironing. True to his name, he felt called to preach, and, failing a larger audience, preached to poor Josie, in and out of season. While I kept her in bed, the lazy fellow had to shift for himself or starve, as his swarming offspring were too small to be of service in the household.
One morning, on finding Josie worse, and learning that John Wesley had been preaching to her the night before, and scolding her because she had fallen asleep, I berated him soundly. It was a good time to chastise him generally; to warn him against deeds of omission and commission. So I set forth how near Josie had come to losing her life, and said she probably would not live through another pregnancy. When I had done, in his drawling, falsetto voice, and with a sanctimonious air, he said:
“Yes, Miss ’Genia, I reckon she was mighty sick, but she’s gettin’ on now, and you know, Miss ’Genia, the Bible says we chillun must be fruitful and multiply and ’plenish the earth; and, Miss ’Genia, we sholy must do as the good Book says.”
More exasperated than amused, I snapped out: