FIRST CASE OF GROWING A NEW BONE.
I had searched for Minnesota men in Campbell, found none, and had been
there a week, when Mrs. Kelsey told me there was one in ward ten,
credited to a Wisconsin regiment; and from him I learned that he was a
friend and neighbor of my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, of
Mantorville, and my conscience reproached me for not sooner finding him;
but the second day Mrs. Gaylord came, as a messenger from the surgeons,
to tell me I need not spend time and strength on him, as he could not be
saved.
His was a thigh wound. They had thought to amputate, but found the bone
shattered from joint to joint--had, with a chain saw, cut it off above
the knee, and picked out the bone in pieces. There was a splinter
attached to the upper joint, but that was all the bone left in the
thigh, and the injury was one from which recovery was impossible. His
father, a doctor, was visiting him, and knew he must die.
I went to the patient, who said:
"Dr. True, the ward surgeon has just been here, and tells me I must
die!"
I sat by him fitting the measure I had been taking for two days to this
new aspect of the case, and talking of death, and the preparation for
it, until I thought I understood the case, when I said:
"Be ready for death, as every one of any sense should always be; but I
do not intend to let you die."
"I guess you cannot help it! All the surgeons and father agree that
there is no hope for me."
"But they are all liable to be mistaken, and none of them have taken
into the account your courage and recuperative force; your good life and
good conscience; your muscle, like a pine log; your pure breath; your
clear skin and good blood. I do not care what they say, you will live; I
will not let you die!"
I found Dr. Baxter, and said:
"I want you to save Corporal Kendall!"
"Corporal Kendall! who is he?"
"The man out of whose thigh you took the bone last week."
His face grew sad, but he said:
"Oh, we mean to save them all if we can."
"Doctor, that is no answer. I am interested in this man, know his
friends and want to understand his case. If I can keep his stomach in
good working order and well supplied with blood-making food, keep away
chills and keep down pain, so that he can sleep, will he not get well?"
He laughed and replied:
"Well, I really never heard of a man dying under such circumstances."
"I can do that, doctor."
"If you can you will save him, of course, and we will give him to you."
"But, doctor, you must do all the surgery. I must not give him pain;
cannot see that wound."
"Oh, certainly, we will do everything in our power; but he is yours, for
we have no hope of saving him."
"Another thing, doctor; you will have him brought to Ward Four."
He gave the order at once, adding: "Put him to the right of Howard"--a
young Philadelphian with a thigh stump, who was likely to die of
hemorrhage, and whose jerking nerves I could soothe and quiet better
than any one else.
By this arrangement the man minus a thigh bone was placed in the center
of my field of labor, and under the care of Dr. Kelly; but full ten days
after this arrangement was made, he came with a rueful face and said:
"We have consulted the Surgeon-General, Medical Inspector, and a dozen
other surgeons outside the hospital, and they all agree that there is no
hope for Kendall. The surgeons here have commissioned me to tell you,
for we think you ought to know. We all appreciate what you are doing,
and think you will save all your other men if you live, but you cannot
stand this strain long. You do not know it; but there is a limit to your
powers of endurance, and you are breaking. You certainly will die if you
keep on as you have been going, and it is not worth your while to kill
yourself for Kendall, for you cannot save him."
"What is the reason he cannot be saved?"
"Well, there are several reasons. First, I performed the operation, and
did not do it as thoroughly as I wished. He was coming out from under
the influence of the chloroform, and they hurried me. The case was
hopeless, and no use to give him pain, so there are several pieces of
bone which I failed to find. These are driven into the flesh, and nature
in trying to get rid of them will get up such excessive suppuration that
he must die of exhaustion. Then there is the thigh without a bone, and
there is nothing in the books to warrant a hope that it could heal in
that condition. We could not, in any case, hope for the formation of a
new bone. There are re-sections of two inches, but this is the longest
new formation of which we know anything, and in this case there can be
no hope, because the periosteum is destroyed."
"Periosteum, doctor. What is that, again?"
"It is the bone-feeder; the strong membrane which incloses the bone, and
through which it is made. In this case it is absolutely destroyed,
removed, torn to shreds--gone. So there are several reasons why he
cannot be saved."
"Doctor Kelly, do you intend to let him lie there and die?"
"Oh no! oh no! I will do all in my power for him. I am paid for that; it
is my duty; but it is not your duty to sacrifice your own life in a vain
effort to save another."
"Doctor Kelly, he _shall_ not die; I will not let him. I know nothing
about your books and bones; but he can live with one bone wanting, and I
tell you he shall not die, and I will not die either."
It was a week or more after this conversation I found my patient, one
morning, with blue lips and a pinched nose, and said to him:
"What is this?"
"Well, I had a chill last night."
"A chill and did not send for me?"
"You were here until after midnight, and must have some rest."
"Corporal Kendall, how _dare_ you talk to me in that manner? You
promised to send for me if there were any change for the worse; and
after this I cannot trust you. Now I must stay here. Do you think I am
going to lose my investment in you? Do you suppose I would work over you
as I have been doing, and then drop you for fear of a little more work?"
As I passed to the kitchen I found that blue lips and pinched noses had
suddenly come into fashion; that there were more of them than I had time
to count; but did not, for a moment, dream of letting a man get into the
graveyard by that gate.
The merry, young Irishman who had volunteered as my orderly, had a
period of active service; and no more willing pair of hands and feet
ever were interposed between men and death. Hot bricks, hot blankets,
bottles of hot water, hot whisky punch and green tea were the order of
the forenoon, and of a good many hours of night and day after it; for
that victory was won by a long struggle. For ten nights I never lay down
in my room; but slept, all I did sleep, lying on a cot about the center
of Ward Four, and two cots from the man minus a bone. I could drop
asleep in an instant, and sleep during ordinary movements; but a change
in a voice brought me to my post in a moment. I could command anything
in the dispensary or store-rooms at any hour of the day or night, and
carried many a man through the crisis of a night attack, when if he had
been left until discovered in the morning, there would have been little
hope for him; and when a surgeon could have done nothing without a key
to the kitchen which none of them had.
I kept no secrets from any of them: told each one just what I had done
in his ward; thankfully received his approval and directions, asked
about things I did not understand, and was careful that my nursing was
in harmony with his surgery.
During that trial-time there was one night that death seemed to be
gaining the victory in Corporal Kendall's case. Pain defied my utmost
efforts and held the citadel. Sleep fled; the circulation grew sluggish,
and both he and I knew that the result hung on the hour. It was two
o'clock A.M., and from midnight I had been trying to bring rest. The
injured limb was suspended in a zinc trough. I had raised, lowered it by
imperceptible motions; cut bandage where it seemed to bind, tucked in
bits of cotton or oakum, kept the toes in motion, irritated the surface
wherever I could get the point of a finger in through the bandages; kept
up the heat of the body, and the hope of the soul; and sat down to hold
his hands and try mesmeric passes and sounds, when he turned his head on
the pillow, and said:
"Even if I should get well, I'll never be fit for infantry service
again."
"No, you never will."
"I might walk with that machine you talk of; but never could march and
carry a knapsack! But I have been thinking. I am a pretty good
engineer. You know Secretary Stanton? You might get me transferred to
the Navy, and I could run an engine on a gunboat."
"That is it, exactly! You will get over this! I will have you
transferred to a gunboat, and next time you will go into the Rebellion
prow foremost. You ought to be at work, in time to help take
Charleston."
I continued to talk, in a sing-song croone, to stroke his
head, and hold his hand, until he slept, which was but a few moments
after settling that transfer, and the last time I saw him, which was in
'79, he got over the ground and up and down stairs, as fast as most
people, his new bone being quite as good as any of the old ones, except
being a little short and decidedly crooked, although the crook did not
effect its usefulness or general appearance.