A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS.
It seems customary for the Surgeon of the Fleet, when any important
operation in his department is on the anvil, and there is nothing to
absorb professional attention from it, to invite his brother surgeons,
if at hand at the time, to a ceremonious consultation upon it. And
this, in courtesy, his brother surgeons expect.
In pursuance of this custom, then, the surgeons of the neighbouring
American ships of war were requested to visit the Neversink in a body,
to advise concerning the case of the top-man, whose situation had now
become critical. They assembled on the half-deck, and were soon joined
by their respected senior, Cuticle. In a body they bowed as he
approached, and accosted him with deferential regard.
“Gentlemen,” said Cuticle, unostentatiously seating himself on a
camp-stool, handed him by his cot-boy, “we have here an extremely
interesting case. You have all seen the patient, I believe. At first I
had hopes that I should have been able to cut down to the ball, and
remove it; but the state of the patient forbade. Since then, the
inflammation and sloughing of the part has been attended with a copious
suppuration, great loss of substance, extreme debility and emaciation.
From this, I am convinced that the ball has shattered and deadened the
bone, and now lies impacted in the medullary canal. In fact, there can
be no doubt that the wound is incurable, and that amputation is the
only resource. But, gentlemen, I find myself placed in a very delicate
predicament. I assure you I feel no professional anxiety to perform the
operation. I desire your advice, and if you will now again visit the
patient with me, we can then return here and decide what is best to be
done. Once more, let me say, that I feel no personal anxiety whatever
to use the knife.”
The assembled surgeons listened to this address with the most serious
attention, and, in accordance with their superior’s desire, now
descended to the sick-bay, where the patient was languishing. The
examination concluded, they returned to the half-deck, and the
consultation was renewed.
“Gentlemen,” began Cuticle, again seating himself, “you have now just
inspected the limb; you have seen that there is no resource but
amputation; and now, gentlemen, what do you say? Surgeon Bandage, of
the Mohawk, will you express your opinion?”
“The wound is a very serious one,” said Bandage—a corpulent man, with a
high German forehead—shaking his head solemnly.
“Can anything save him but amputation?” demanded Cuticle.
“His constitutional debility is extreme,” observed Bandage, “but I have
seen more dangerous cases.”
“Surgeon Wedge, of the Malay,” said Cuticle, in a pet, “be pleased to
give _your_ opinion; and let it be definitive, I entreat:” this was
said with a severe glance toward Bandage.
“If I thought,” began Wedge, a very spare, tall man, elevating himself
still higher on his toes, “that the ball had shattered and divided the
whole _femur_, including the _Greater_ and _Lesser Trochanter_ the
_Linear aspera_ the _Digital fossa_, and the _Intertrochanteric_, I
should certainly be in favour of amputation; but that, sir, permit me
to observe, is not my opinion.”
“Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer,” said Cuticle, drawing in his thin
lower lip with vexation, and turning to a round-faced, florid, frank,
sensible-looking man, whose uniform coat very handsomely fitted him,
and was adorned with an unusual quantity of gold lace; “Surgeon Sawyer,
of the Buccaneer, let us now hear _your_ opinion, if you please. Is not
amputation the only resource, sir?”
“Excuse me,” said Sawyer, “I am decidedly opposed to it; for if
hitherto the patient has not been strong enough to undergo the
extraction of the ball, I do not see how he can be expected to endure a
far more severe operation. As there is no immediate danger of
mortification, and you say the ball cannot be reached without making
large incisions, I should support him, I think, for the present, with
tonics, and gentle antiphlogistics, locally applied. On no account
would I proceed to amputation until further symptoms are exhibited.”
“Surgeon Patella, of the Algerine,” said Cuticle, in an ill-suppressed
passion, abruptly turning round on the person addressed, “will _you_
have the kindness to say whether _you_ do not think that amputation is
the only resource?”
Now Patella was the youngest of the company, a modest man, filled with
a profound reverence for the science of Cuticle, and desirous of
gaining his good opinion, yet not wishing to commit himself altogether
by a decided reply, though, like Surgeon Sawyer, in his own mind he
might have been clearly against the operation.
“What you have remarked, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet,” said Patella,
respectfully hemming, “concerning the dangerous condition of the limb,
seems obvious enough; amputation would certainly be a cure to the
wound; but then, as, notwithstanding his present debility, the patient
seems to have a strong constitution, he might rally as it is, and by
your scientific treatment, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet”—bowing—“be
entirely made whole, without risking an amputation. Still, it is a very
critical case, and amputation may be indispensable; and if it is to be
performed, there ought to be no delay whatever. That is my view of the
case, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet.”
“Surgeon Patella, then, gentlemen,” said Cuticle, turning round
triumphantly, “is clearly of opinion that amputation should be
immediately performed. For my own part—individually, I mean, and
without respect to the patient—I am sorry to have it so decided. But
this settles the question, gentlemen—in my own mind, however, it was
settled before. At ten o’clock to-morrow morning the operation will be
performed. I shall be happy to see you all on the occasion, and also
your juniors” (alluding to the absent _Assistant Surgeons_).
“Good-morning, gentlemen; at ten o’clock, remember.”
And Cuticle retreated to the Ward-room.