medicines could not keep up until she was confined to bed.
It hit me like a hammer to the chest when the day came months ago, that she passed on going to church on Holy Day. Since then Jace has been a godsend. I don't think I could have kept things running around here and provide for him and mother without his help. He may be tiny but even at seven, he is physically almost as strong as me.
I ran to the well and worked the hand pump and got a fresh bucket of water. The street lamps started flickering to life. Then I ran the chamber pot to the road and dumped it in the iron grates they had in the long stone ditches along each road. I had always thought them ingenious. In the morning before the village awakens, they open floodgates at the Hawktail River where it enters the city, for fifteen minutes, the water fills the channels and washes away the waste into the keep's sewer tunnels that served the castle. Modern conveniences.
I saw a black carriage pulled by two horses and a lantern on a hook coming down the lane. I darted back inside to put the chamber pot in the corner and straightened Jace and my tunics as I said, “He's coming.”
A minute later there was a tapping at the door. I opened it straightaway and there was a tall lanky man who looked as though he belonged in a corn field somewhere, scaring off the crows. He looked exhausted and I wondered if that made his long, drawn face look older. I was guessing the man to be in his thirties. He was impeccably dressed but his clothing was wrinkled and the sleeves of his long shirt were rolled up, indicating a rough day. He carried one of those the big black bags one always associated with doctors.
I bowed my head to the man and asked even though it were obvious, “Sir. Are you the doctor?”
He patted my shoulder like we were old acquaintances. “Yes child. It has been a long day and this is my last stop. We can dispense with any formalities. I'm here to check in on...” He looked at a slip of paper hanging out of his bag. “A Margret Herder. Are you she?”
I ushered him in and Jace shut the door. “Margret is my mother.” I led him over and mother was asleep. I remembered her teaching me to always be a good host. I quickly asked, “Where are my manners. Would you like a cup of water sir, fresh from the well just now, we have some chicken jerky if you like.”
He was setting his bag down beside the little stool we had by the bed and pulling a stethoscope out from under his shirt as he looked at me with a compassionate smile. “No child but thank you. What is your name. I'm Doctor Maxwell, but everyone just calls me Doc.
I nodded and said, “I'm Laney and this rascal is my little brother Jace.”
He nodded to both of us then turned toward mother. He paused and looked down at the electric heater at his feet that was blowing toward mother and smiled. “This is positively antique and it still works?”
I know he didn't expect a reply because he was already gently shaking mother's shoulders. “Margret? I'm Doctor Maxwell.” Mother woke and looked nervously at the doctor. He squinted. “You look familiar, have I treated you before?” She shook her head. He shrugged and went about asking a lot of questions as he examined her. He referred to the notes frequently. He seemed upset about the notes.
Then he took some of her blood with a needle and put it on some paper. It changed color and he harrumphed and muttered something about imbeciles. Then he sighed and spoke to all of us though he looked at mother. “You seem to be having problems absorbing a hormone our bodies naturally produce called insulin. Plus the iron in your blood isn't carrying enough oxygen to your cells. There are many syndromes that cause this. Coupled with your other symptoms I believe you suffer from Wasting Syndrome.”
I cut back tears, we had always thought she had Wasting Syndrome. It would get worse until she didn't have the energy to even wake up. Then she would simply pass
It hit me like a hammer to the chest when the day came months ago, that she passed on going to church on Holy Day. Since then Jace has been a godsend. I don't think I could have kept things running around here and provide for him and mother without his help. He may be tiny but even at seven, he is physically almost as strong as me.
I ran to the well and worked the hand pump and got a fresh bucket of water. The street lamps started flickering to life. Then I ran the chamber pot to the road and dumped it in the iron grates they had in the long stone ditches along each road. I had always thought them ingenious. In the morning before the village awakens, they open floodgates at the Hawktail River where it enters the city, for fifteen minutes, the water fills the channels and washes away the waste into the keep's sewer tunnels that served the castle. Modern conveniences.
I saw a black carriage pulled by two horses and a lantern on a hook coming down the lane. I darted back inside to put the chamber pot in the corner and straightened Jace and my tunics as I said, “He's coming.”
A minute later there was a tapping at the door. I opened it straightaway and there was a tall lanky man who looked as though he belonged in a corn field somewhere, scaring off the crows. He looked exhausted and I wondered if that made his long, drawn face look older. I was guessing the man to be in his thirties. He was impeccably dressed but his clothing was wrinkled and the sleeves of his long shirt were rolled up, indicating a rough day. He carried one of those the big black bags one always associated with doctors.
I bowed my head to the man and asked even though it were obvious, “Sir. Are you the doctor?”
He patted my shoulder like we were old acquaintances. “Yes child. It has been a long day and this is my last stop. We can dispense with any formalities. I'm here to check in on...” He looked at a slip of paper hanging out of his bag. “A Margret Herder. Are you she?”
I ushered him in and Jace shut the door. “Margret is my mother.” I led him over and mother was asleep. I remembered her teaching me to always be a good host. I quickly asked, “Where are my manners. Would you like a cup of water sir, fresh from the well just now, we have some chicken jerky if you like.”
He was setting his bag down beside the little stool we had by the bed and pulling a stethoscope out from under his shirt as he looked at me with a compassionate smile. “No child but thank you. What is your name. I'm Doctor Maxwell, but everyone just calls me Doc.
I nodded and said, “I'm Laney and this rascal is my little brother Jace.”
He nodded to both of us then turned toward mother. He paused and looked down at the electric heater at his feet that was blowing toward mother and smiled. “This is positively antique and it still works?”
I know he didn't expect a reply because he was already gently shaking mother's shoulders. “Margret? I'm Doctor Maxwell.” Mother woke and looked nervously at the doctor. He squinted. “You look familiar, have I treated you before?” She shook her head. He shrugged and went about asking a lot of questions as he examined her. He referred to the notes frequently. He seemed upset about the notes.
Then he took some of her blood with a needle and put it on some paper. It changed color and he harrumphed and muttered something about imbeciles. Then he sighed and spoke to all of us though he looked at mother. “You seem to be having problems absorbing a hormone our bodies naturally produce called insulin. Plus the iron in your blood isn't carrying enough oxygen to your cells. There are many syndromes that cause this. Coupled with your other symptoms I believe you suffer from Wasting Syndrome.”
I cut back tears, we had always thought she had Wasting Syndrome. It would get worse until she didn't have the energy to even wake up. Then she would simply pass
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