Doctor Livesey: A Short Story

Almond faced many long, cold nights as a traveling doctor in the mountains of West Virginia. He would travel lengthy routes to get to his patients in his little rag top jeep. There would even be times when he would have to get out of his jeep and walk, or row to the patients home. Dr. Almond would receive frantic calls from families in the middle of the night, and he’d spring out of bed to try to get there as fast as he could. Doctors who did house calls get little rest; they had worked all day and then got up in the middle of the night to go help a patient. “Just as one day has ended, another one has begun. And thus it goes, day in, day out, for many of our friends who earned the title “Doctor”, and all that word portends.”

By nightfall of that day, 10,000 victims had invaded the Red Cross hospital and Dr. Sasaki was totally worn out. He had lost his glasses in the explosion and had taken a pair from a wounded nurse. Although these were not his prescription, he could see well enough to do some bandaging. He tried to bandage the ones that he thought had a chance of survival. He felt that he could not afford to spend time on those that he was sure would die despite his efforts.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Habersham County, Tom was feeling slightly nervous as he exited the staff lounge and entered the hustle and bustle of County Hospital’s ER to begin his first shift as an RN. The first few hours of his shift passed slowly as Tom mostly checked vital signs and listened to patients complain about various aches, pains, coughs, and sniffles. He realized that the attending physician, Dr. Greene, who was rather “old school” in general about how he interacted with nursing staff, wanted to start him out slowly. Tom knew, though, that the paramedics could bring in a trauma patient at any time.

It was almost midnight when I got the call from Dr. Seagraves. She told me to meet her in the physicians lounge at 7 am: we had a case. The next morning began like any other in the operating room. We met with the patient, I received permission to observe and then got suited up for case. The patient was an elderly African American woman, she called me handsome and smiled comfortably. When we made it into the OR I was asked to help lift the patient from bed to table, with a subtle warning of “watch out, it’s gooey.” Dr. Seagraves parted the patient’s gown, exposing a mass of raw tissue that somewhat resembled a leg. The patient had suffered a week’s worth of necrotizing fasciitis, more commonly known as flesh eating bacteria. The wound had a certain odor, a putrid smell you do not forget. Our hearts sank in unison as we realized what we were up against. We had to act fast. Dr. Seagraves began scrubbing the wounded tissue as the Anaestesiologist monitored the patient’s progress. I had observed Dr. Seagraves on multiple occasions and never did she express concern for the outcome. For the first time in our relationship I heard her mutter, “This is not good. This is not good at all.”

The surgeons lift things away. He tries not to look, but he can’t help it... The fear surrounds him, threatening to take him under. He tries to replace it with anger, but the fear is too strong... He does not deserve this.

Despite his lack of a medical license or ability to practice medicine, everyone goes to him when they need help. They do not have the luxury of finding a real doctor or going to an actual hospital, so they full-heartedly accept what is available to them without question. Accepting what is available without question is a common theme seen throughout the story.

In Cutting for Stone Thomas Stone asks, “What treatment in an emergency is administrated by ear?” The correct answer is “Words of comfort.” Just this one statement encapsulates the books surprising take on medicine this question also reminds me of experiences I have had with doctors and hospitals. I will be discussing these topics along with how Cutting for Stone tells us about the roles of compassion, faith, and hop in medicine.

“You can have it,” he says. I smiled, I was so excited! I never thought he would give it to me. “Really?!” I ask. He started to look through more of his old things and took out some things and put them off to the side and I also looked through those boxes.

“You must have made quite an impression on him.” He folded the bag closed and tucked it under the dash.

Bending down on one knee I could see the tracks were not circular nor were they like a cat, or dog. It appeared to be those of a bird. I could make out three thin toes,

I walked around all over campus trying to find the class. I went to the Duke Building couldn't get in because the doors were locked and tried many other buildings. I thought I forgot where you said we would be meeting and checked my email to see iff you had sent an email. I didn't receive anything stating any changes. Please advise what I should do , I'm concerned because of my attendance, particpation, and the work I missed.

Winnie sighed. She had been waiting for Mr. Scamander to come back for a few hours. The minute he had left, she started wandering around, looking at the beautiful, strange creatures around her. But she began to get bored. Not that anyone could get bored of these animals, each one was as fantastic as the one before. She was bored because she was a people person, and she had no one to talk to, unless you counted the jarvey, which Winnie certainly did not. So after a few minutes, she found her way back to the room she had originally fallen into. She sat right beside the ladder, glancing up every few minutes, hoping that he would come. She didn’t know how long it took to get to Saint-Pierre, but she imagined it couldn’t be longer than half a day.

"Very nice,Mr.Litmen."He smiled at me,though i assume it was spitful considering i was 99% sure he

“It’s no problem, just doing my job,” I smiled at him. Logan had gotten here about five days ago. He was fifteen, same age as me, and had sky blue eyes

Inside a crowded stadium filled with eighty thousand people, a room filled with sweaty human beings but not a single soundwave. No one budges but the doctor who is checking on Jon’s leg. Jon’s, incredibly lean and muscly, left leg has a deep cut about 6 inches above his knee. The doctor calmly and collectively stops the bleeding while lines of blood dripping down Jon’s rugged ankle. “It’s going to sting” The doctor whispers. Jon continues to stare into the floor without any responses. Drops of sweats struggle to get their ways through his wrinkle forehead. He is barely of age but he doesn’t look like a man who has just turned 18 a few weeks ago. He’s struggling to find a solution to a problem. A problem which he never thought would’ve presented