a fatal growth, and it’ll be the cause of your demise, my child, and I can’t do a damn thing to prevent it. This old man wishes he could offer you a cheerier outlook. It’s too bad we live in such a small community. Maybe Thomas could take you to a big city, like Chicago or St. Louis, and find a doctor who can help you?”
“No, you know we can’t afford to do that, Dr. Bass,” Emma replied.
Thomas, sitting be his wife, began crying, wailing loudly, as he pleaded, “O God, please help us, please don’t let her die. Dear God, I need her here, God. Jeff and me, we need her, God.”
Tears fell from Jeff’s eyes as he listened to his papa crying from the other side of the door. Did Dr. Bass say his mother would die? “No way,” he murmured to himself. “She couldn’t die, my mama could never be that sick!”
Emma put her arms around her husband and kissed his tear streaked cheeks. “Hush now, my dearest, hush up, we’ve already had us many good years together. Now this may be the time for me to go on and for you to stay behind and pull our wagon all by yourself. I know you, my husband, you can do it. Now you go on and make our Jeffery some breakfast flapjacks. I want to talk to the good doctor alone, and after he eats, you send our sonny to me. I want him to lie by my side for a time.”
After Thomas had left the room, Emma asked, “Doctor, will it be a painful death?”
“If it’s what I think it is, I’m afraid it will, my child, but I’ll leave a big bottle of painkillers with you and when your pain does begin, you take a big swallow of my medicine to make that old pain go away. I’ll be back to check on you first of next week. I need to go down the creek a way and deliver some babies to Mrs. Olson. I believe she’s going to birth three of them this time. You be a good girl, Emma.” He patted her arm. “Get your rest like a good girl and I’ll see you soon.”
Dr. Bass set the purple bottle of laudanum on Emma’s bedside table, closed his bag, and left the room. Bidding Thomas and Jeff goodbye and promising to see them early Monday morning, Dr. Bass went out their door, climbed into his buggy, turned his old mare, Molly, around, and headed down the dirt road toward some other sick person’s home. Thomas had followed the doctor outside, untied his gray mule, and walked her back to the barn. She’d been tied behind Dr. Bass’s buggy.
Later, Jeffery opened his mama’s door and walked over to her bed. “Hi, my darling, lay down beside your mama, and let’s take a nap together like we used to when you were my little-bitty boy.” Jeff lay down by his mama, put his arm around her waist, laid his head on her shoulder, and closed his eyes. Emma smiled. Her Jeffery was such an affectionate lad. She hated to go off and leave them. Her two baby daughters, three-year-old Edith, who’d caught diphtheria, and tiny, stillborn Emily, both her girl babies, their daddy had lain them to rest safely under the shade of their mulberry tree out by the well. Maybe her good Lord, Jesus, would allow her to see both her babies when she passed on; Emma sure did hope so. She snuggled closer to her son, closed her eyes, and slept.
Chapter Three
Pain woke her. Jeff was gone, and it was dark. Her groin was on fire. Emma swung her feet off the bed and reached for the purple bottle; she pulled the cork and took two big swallows. It numbed her tongue and throat. She corked the bottle and set it back on her table. The room blurred as she stood. “Thomas!” she yelled.
Her husband yanked open her door. “Yes, darling, what is it?”
“I need to make water, help me to my bedside bucket, please.”
“Right away, Emma. Here, lean on my shoulder, darling.” Thomas helped Emma sit on the chamber pot, and he waited until Emma was finished.
“And now help me into my kitchen and brew me some coffee, please.” Thomas helped her into her kitchen and sat her down in her breakfast chair.
Jeff looked up at his mama when she entered the kitchen. “Hi, Mama.” He watched his papa help her sit down at their long table.
“Evening darling, y’all had your supper yet?” she asked.
“Yeah, last night, we did, and we’re about to make our breakfast now. You hungry, honey?” asked Thomas.
“You saying I slept all day and night and didn’t know it?”
“You did. We was real quiet, Mama, so’s not to wake you. Me and Papa slept in my bed, didn’t we, Papa?”
“We e’nuff did. Now about breakfast?” Thomas queried as he set Emma down a mug of steaming coffee.
“Let me think about it while I sip my coffee. Right this minute I’m not hungry. What are y’all having?”
“I cooked the boy six flapjacks, Mother. That sound good to you? I’ll cook you some bacon to eat with them.”
“I don’t want food right now. I hope I can keep this coffee in my belly. So far I feel like throwing it back up.”
Monday, midmorning, Dr. Bass pulled up in his buggy to his patient’s hitch rail, stepped out, and tied his mare from habit. It wasn’t needed. His old mare wasn’t about to run away. Retrieving his black bag from the seat, he proceeded to the Nelson’s front door. He started to knock, when the door opened.
“Hello, Dr. Bass, I saw you drive your buggy into my yard. Come in, come in. Emma is lying down but she ain’t asleep yet. We was hopin’ you’d come early because she’s almost out of her medicine. Poor Emma’s been havin’ some god-awful pains down in her stomach, Doctor, and it hurts her so that sometimes she’s begins cryin’, and there ain’t a damn thing me or little Jeff can do to ease her pain. It’s just god-awful, Doctor Bass. I sure do wish you could make her well.”
“I do too, son, I do too. I hate pain more than you can ever imagine. Sometimes I’ve cried right along with my patients. You have no idea a’tall what this old man has witnessed in his long medical practice. Lead the way, son, I want to check on your darling.”
Thomas led Dr. Bass into Emma’s bedroom. “Emma, honey, you asleep? Dr. Bass is here, bright and early, to see you.”
The old doctor sat down in a straight-backed chair by Emma’s bed. “How are you feeling this Monday morn, child?” He leaned close and placed his hand on her forehead. “I do believe you’re running a slight fever, Emma, let’s check your temperature. Open your mouth for me, please.”
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of buffalos, Dr. Bass, and it seems like I’m passing more blood each time I make water.”
“Thomas, you may now leave the room. I want to inspect my patient. I’ll holler when it’s time for you to come back in here. You may bring a pitcher of cold spring water for your wife when I call for you.”
Dr. Bass pulled up Emma’s gown and grimaced as he shook his head. The folded-up cloth between her legs was blood-soaked. He removed it and dropped it in an empty lard can by her bedside. He reached for another cloth nearby, folded it, and placed it between Emma’s legs and her bloomers. Blood was slowly seeping steadily from her womanhood. “When did you put that last cloth between your legs, Emma?”
“’Bout dawn, when I had to go make water.”
“You’re losing too much of your blood, girl.”
“What can I do to make
