Читать книгу The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife - Firebaugh Ellen M. - Страница 6

Once in a while sympathy for a fellow mortal kept the doctor's wife an interested listener at the 'phone. Going, one morning, to speak to a friend about some little matter she heard her husband say:

“What is it, doctor?” A physician in a little town some ten or twelve miles distant, who had called Dr. Blank in consultation a few days before, was calling him.

“I think our patient is doing very well, but her heart keeps getting a little faster.”

“How fast is it now?”

“About 120.”

“But the disease is pretty well advanced now – that doesn't mean as much as it would earlier. But you might push a little on the brandy, or the strychnine – how much brandy have you given her since I saw her?”

“I have given her four ounces.”

“Four ounces!”

“Yes.”

“Four ounces in three days? I think you must mean four drachms.”

“Yes. It is drachms. Four ounces would be fixing things up. I've been giving her digitalis; what do you think about that?”

“That's all right, but I think that strychnine would be a little better.”

“Would you give her any aromatic spirits of ammonia?”

“Does she rattle?”

“A little.”

“Then you might give her a little of that. And keep the room open and stick right to her and she ought to get along. Don't give her much to eat.”

“Is milk all right?”

“Yes. You bet it is.”

“All right then, doctor, I believe that's all. Good-bye.”

On another occasion, Mary caught this fragment:

“She's so everlastin' sore that she just hollers and yells every time I go near her. Would you give her any more morphine?”

“Morphine's a thing you can't monkey with you know, Doctor. You want to be mighty careful about that.”

“Yes. I know. How long will that morphine last?”

“That depends on how you use it. It won't last long if you use too much and neither will she.”

“I mean how long will it last in the system?”

“O! Why, three or four hours.”

“Well, I think she don't need no more medicine.”

Mary smiled at the double negative and when she laughingly spoke of it that night her husband assured her that that doctor's singleness of purpose more than offset his doubleness of negative. That he was a fine fellow and a good physician just the same.

One morning in March just as the doctor arose from the breakfast table he was called to the 'phone.

“Is this Dr. Blank?”

“Yes.”

“Doctor, will it hurt the baby to bathe it every morning? I've been doing that but some of the folks around here say I oughtn't to do it; they say it isn't good for a baby to bathe it so often.”

The doctor answered solemnly, “The baby's fat and healthy isn't it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And pretty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Likes to see its mamma?”

“You know it.”

“Likes to see its papa?”

“He does that!” said the young mother.

“Then ask me next fall if it will hurt to bathe the baby every morning.”

“All right, Doctor,” laughed the baby's mamma.

“The fools are not all dead yet,” said John, as he took his hat and departed. On the step he turned back and put his head in at the door. “Keep an ear out, Mary. I'm likely to be away from the office a good bit this morning.”

An hour later a call came. Mary put the ear that was “out” to the receiver:

“It's on North Adams street.”

“All right. I'll be out there after awhile,” said her husband's placid voice.

“Don't wait too long. He may die before you git here.”

“No, he won't. I'll be along pretty soon.”

“Well, come just as quick as you can.”

“All right,” and the listener knew that it might be along toward noon before he got there.

About eleven o'clock the 'phone rang sharply.

“Is this Dr. Blank's house?”

“Yes.”

“Is he there?”

“I saw him pass here about twenty minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be back to the office in a little bit.”

“My land! I've been here three or four times. Looks like I'd ketch him some time.”

“You are at the office then? If you will sit down and wait just a little while, he will be in.”