Some incidents in the life of a country doctor / [by T. Wilson Parry].

  • Parry, Thomas Wilson, 1866-1945.
Date:
1910
Catalogue details

Licence: In copyright

Credit: Some incidents in the life of a country doctor / [by T. Wilson Parry]. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by The Royal College of Surgeons of England. The original may be consulted at The Royal College of Surgeons of England.

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    ^9 had produced a severe pain in the “ stomach,” which had not left her. I went at once and found to my astonishment that it was a case of strangulated inguinal hernia. Taxis failed. My nearest colleague lived five miles away. The single telegraph wire which connected our village with the outside world was denied us owing to the lateness of the hour. There was nothing to do but to man a horse and despatch an urgent message for the doctor to come at once. Meanwhile there was plenty to do. As there were no qualified nurses in the district the first thing was to requisition a clean woman with a head on her shoulders. This done, her first instructions were to empty the old lady’s kettle, fill it with fresh spring water, and put it on to boil, and do likewise with a second kettle to be borrowed from an obliging neighbour. The cottage consisted of two rooms only, one upstairs, the other down. All the belongings of this good dame, therefore, were stuffed into these two rooms, and as the downstairs room stood duty for kitchen, scullery, and parlour, it was natural that the upper one should be converted into a box-room and general depository as well as that of bedroom. It may therefore be imagined that we did not dare to attempt to “ prepare ” this room, as the least displacement of boxes or baggage would have displaced a wilderness of dust and countless millions of germs. My colleague arrived just before midnight, and after a particularly busy day was unusually tired. “ I surely did not intend to operate that night ? ” “ Really—well, he had brought nothing with him.” “ Had all the instruments been sterilized ? ” In reply to these queries he was told that the operation was imme- diately imperative, that plenty of chloroform could be supplied, and that everything else was in perfect readiness at the cottage awaiting his arrival. It is absolutely essential for a medical man undertaking an operation of this kind in the country to trust no one. He must personally arrange and superintend the carrying out of every detail or there will certainly be trouble. In this case I flattered myself that nothing had been over- looked. There was one thing, however, that I did not overhaul and that was the old woman’s lamp. Things went swimmingly. I had every- thing arranged around me in the shape of instruments, antiseptic swabs, and dressings, and the only thing that haunted me was that belated branch of the epigastric artery. I was just incising Gimbernat’s liga- ment when—“Hallo, what’s this?” said my anaesthetist, “the lamp’s going out ! ” Ye gods in heaven, it was indeed ! Like a dying fish on the river’s bank the old lady’s lamp was gasping for breath. “ For heaven’s sake,” said I to our substitute for a nurse, “ fetch a candle.” There was a scamper of feet and she was gone. Seconds seemed minutes and minutes hours. At each intermittent flicker of the lamp I went on with the operation, and by a stroke of good luck a tallow dip was obtained just as the dying lamp expired. The light, however, from this new source was so small that two dips had to be employed and held so
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