“What has happened to my Michael?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.
Grace shouldered her away.
“He can’t breathe.”
“Can’t breathe? Oh, Michael.”
“Please, I need to see if there’s something obstructing his airway.”
Bending back up, she aligned his head, tilting his chin up and tried to see down his throat as she heard James calmly ordering someone to hand him one of the tools from his bag. They were working in tandem but separately and while the situation at hand was serious, Grace felt a spark of kinship with him.
Trying to gaze down her patient’s throat, she couldn’t see anything, but using her fingers, she felt an unnatural dip againsthis throat and when she pressed on it, his arms flailed up, striking her against the cheek.
“Grace!” James called, but she ignored him.
“You’re hurting him!” the woman yelled, trying once more to push Grace out of the way.
“Hold him!” she barked at the men, putting the sting she felt out of her mind. Once he was secure, she spoke to the woman on her left. “If you do not get out of my way, this man, whoever he is to you, will suffocate and you’ll be helping him along to his final reward. Now stand against the wall and let me work.”
The watery-eyed young woman’s mouth dropped. Seemingly believing Grace, she shuffled to her feet and hurried to the wall, while Grace leaned over the man once again. “I’m sorry, I know you are in pain, but I believe your throat has collapsed.” The man’s frightened blue eyes stared up at her. “Can you speak?”
He shook his head.
“I thought so. That means the damage has occurred in the larynx.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I know what needs to be done, but I’m afraid it’s rather dangerous and painful. However, if this isn’t tended to…” She hesitated for only a moment before continuing. “You will choke to death.”
A chilling silence fell over the room. Grace glanced up at James who was watching her, when the woman against the wall interrupted.
“Please, Miss Lady Doctor,” she said, catching Grace’s attention. She glanced up to see the young person, hands clasped in front of her chest as if she were praying. “If you can, please. Save my Michael.”
Grace gave one last look at James; she focused on the patient. Touching his head gently, she saw his eyes flutter as a terrible, gurgling came from his throat. He started to shake and the men held him down tightly.
“I need a scalpel. Now.”
“Here, Miss MacIntosh,” James called out to the woman who crossed the room in Grace’s peripheral vision. “Give this to her.”
Grace waited with an outstretched hand until the cool metal was placed gently in her palm. With her other hand, she felt along the front of the man’s neck for the cricoid cartilage, or the ridged rings that could be felt beneath the skin on the throat. With a steady, but firm hand, Grace pressed the tip of the scalpel into the skin, and cut vertically.
“You’re slitting his throat?” the woman cried.
“I’m saving his life.”
Through the platysma muscle, exposing the strap muscles, she was able to see the thyroid gland. Breathing steadily through her nose, Grace cut a small portion of the thyroid, only enough to see and nick the trachea with the tip of her blade.
Instantly, a gasp of air pulled into the hole as the man’s chest lifted, now fully able to breathe. Grace needed a needle to suture the muscles when one appeared right before her eyes. Turning, she saw James, kneeling next to her.
“I’ll dab the incision with laudanum while you stitch. Hopefully, it’ll numb the pain.”
Grace took the silk thread and needle, bent low, and worked as though she were a lady working on a needlepoint. This was where she was her calmest, her most focused. Working to save a man’s life.
Within minutes, he was cleaned up and set up to a sitting position.
“Now, you must keep this area clean,” James was saying as Miss MacIntosh gripped Michael’s arm. “Miss Sharpe was able to stitch you up, and it seems as though there might be a chance at recovering from your initial injury. I want you to visit my office in a few days. Do not speak until then. Miss MacIntosh? Might you be able to communicate for this man?”
“Aye, Doctor.” Miss MacIntosh reached for Grace’s hand. “And thank you, Doctor.”
Grace’s heart swelled, but she remained still.
“Of course,” she said, a little breathless as she and James left the room.
