A Day in the Life Of Charles Madison, Colonial Surgeon

My name is Charles Madison and I am 27 years old. I live in a beautiful upper class house with my wife, Rebecca Madison, who is 25 years old. I live in the richest part of Jamestown because of my surgeon duties. I was recently drafted into war because they need the best surgeon. It has been treacherous. Each day, I must get up at the crack of dawn, eat my gruel, and adjourn to my station. I stay there, in case anyone comes over, and, I have my surgery kit ready in case I need to go into the battlefield. “GET THE SURGEON! My brother was shot!” I grab my kit and run through the crowd. Everyone steps aside because I am wearing all black which indicates that I am a surgeon. I also have the same privileges as an officer in war. I hear a gunshot whistle pass my ear. I look up at the the blazing sun and stumble over the sandy grass. My heart is racing as I look at the blood running out of my patient’s shoulder then, I vomit next to him.

“There is no time to take him back to my tent!” I yell. I get down on the grass ground and take a probe out of my surgical kit. I stick my thumb inside the wound to see if I can get it out, but all I feel is the gooey muscle and wet tissue. His screams are agonizing but I have to do this. I stick the probe inside his wound and move it around until I feel the musket ball.

“Hold this right here!” I shout to no one in particular. His brother holds it as I get my retractors and split the lips of the wound. Even more blood pools out and dampens the sandy surface, I yell for someone to start a fire. I run my tongs down the probe and I pull out some tissue and the musket ball. I take a cauterizer and heat it up over the fire. Once the cauterizer is burning I squeeze his wound together and I run the long metal stick down the wound, fusing the skin back together.

A cannon blasts in the air and a couple men and I pick him up and run to my tent. I set him down on the table. I walk out of my coffee stained tent and go back to the blood red grass and blackish sand to acquire my surgical kit once again. My head is thumping and I pick up the slimy tools. I walk back to my tent and I watch the man sleep as I finish my warm, watery, stinking gruel. I go over to my fire and heat the long metal stick up once again to ensure that his arm stays together. I run the cauterizer slowly over his pale skin and bind the skin together as he screams in agony. I hand him a sling.

“Put it on and don’t move your arm until dawn,” I say with a strict tone.

“Yes sir!” he says in a responsive voice. I sit down at my desk and hear a slight creek and moan out of the chair. I take out a piece of paper, ink and a quill.

Dear my beloved,

Hello Rebecca, how are you? It has been ages since I have seen your elegantly toned face. I quiver when I think of you. Hopefully this war will be over soon and we shall be united again. I hope you are wearing your red dress with the golden designs. I may be at war and not home, but you may not talk to Reginald, for I fear he may be trying to ruin our relationship. I am sorry you are lonely, but your devilish sins and urges may not be acted upon.

Love,

 Charles

I walk over to the messenger, for it is Monday and he only comes around once a week. I hand him the letter.

“Is there anything for me?” I ask.

“Sorry sir. You know she only writes every other week.”

“Very well than. Good bye!” “Good bye sir.”

I walk back to my tent and out of the corner of my eye I see a bullet skin a mans right leg and I run over. I duck down to where he is and as the sand brushes over my knees I put his arm over my shoulder and I help him over to my tent as the sweltering heat boils my back alive. I lay him down and I realize that a small amount of his bone was hit but it wasn’t broken. I extend his leg and massage the right thigh I put a bandage on it to stop the bleeding and then I give him a three piece splint with leather bindings.

“Hello sir, your dinner is here.”

“Gruel again?” I ask with fear.

“Yes sir.” He says as he leaves. I tell him to sleep there and not to move his leg then I finish my gruel and go to bed.