A memory of Solferino : Un souvenir de Solferino / With an introduction by John Kennedy.

  • Henry Dunant
Date:
[1947]
Catalogue details

Licence: In copyright

Credit: A memory of Solferino : Un souvenir de Solferino / With an introduction by John Kennedy. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    were a score of other wounded men to be operated on that same morning, and 150 waiting to have their wounds dressed. There was no time to pause in pity over a single case, or wait for the man to make up his mind. The surgeon, a kind fellow, but cold and decisive, simply replied: “Leave it all to us.” Then he quickly raised the blanket. The fractured leg had swollen to twice its normal size, evil-smelling pus was running freely in three separate places, and purple marks showed that a main artery had been cut, so that the limb could no longer receive its proper supply of blood. So there was nothing to be done, and the only remedy, if it could be called a remedy, was amputation, two- thirds of the way up the thigh. Amputation! Word of horror for this poor boy, who could see before him only two alternatives: imminent death, or else the wretched existence of a cripple. He had no time to screw up his courage for what was coming. “Oh God, Oh God, what are you going to do?” he asked, shuddering. The surgeon made no reply. “Take him away, orderly”, he said: “Hurry up!” But a heart-rending cry burst from the quiver¬ ing throat. The clumsy orderly had taken hold of the motionless but terribly tender limb much too near the wound. The fractured bones had run into the flesh, and caused the patient terrible agony. His leg could be seen bending, all out of shape with the shaking it had got, as the man was carried to the operating theatre. Ah, that fearful procession! It was like a lamb being led to the sacrifice. The patient was at last at rest on the operating table, which was covered by a thin mattress. On another table beside him lay the instruments under a napkin. The surgeon, his mind on his task, had no eyes or ears for anything now but the operation. A young medical assistant held the patient5s arms. The orderly took hold of the uninjured leg, and put out his full strength to pull the patient over to the edge of the table. The patient cried out in terror: “Don’t drop me!” and threw his arms convulsively round the young doctor, who was standing ready to support him and was himself pale with emotion and almost as upset as the patient himself. The operating surgeon had removed his coat, turned up his sleeves almost to the shoulder, and donned a white apron which covered him up to the neck. With one knee on the ground and the terrible knife in his hand, he threw his arm round the soldier’s thigh, and with a single movement cut the skin round the limb. A piercing cry rang through the hospital. The young doctor, looking into the suffering man’s face, could see in his drawn features every detail of the frightful agony he was undergoing. “Be brave!” he said to the soldier under his breath, as he felt the man’s hands stiffen against his back, “Two more minutes, and you will be all right.”
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