Hysteria unabridged. Chapter Two. Martha(indi) Chapter Two. Martha.
Martha walked up toward the square, through the light rain of the early morning. Through the throng of people opening stores, shopping, standing at the side of the street waiting for a cab. People peddling breads, newspapers and others tailing stopped cabs to clean up the manure. Martha had laced in her very best and admittedly most uncomfortable and suffocating red dress, had combed her dark hair back and hidden it beneath a bonnet and given her goodbyes to her disapproving mother and scornful sisters and clasped her folio tightly under her arm. She walked briskly, side stepping the messes and the masses, trying to keep her mind on her internal rehearsal.
“good morning sir, I’m Martha Hiddleston… Good morning Doctor, I am here in response to your advert in the times, I sent a telegram a week ago….” She quietly thought through what she should say, how she should conduct herself. Butterflies’ flu circles and loops in her stomach and her breath caught in her tightly laced chest. Martha scored interested looks from those she knew from her childhood as she walked but she worked hard not to notice.
She had worked hard from a young age to be where she was today, everything she had done, been through and all those hours of service and study, all the countless sleepless nights and letters of rejection, every little set back and every scornful glance and remark from all but very few of her peers had strengthened her resolve for this day. Martha had done to secondary school with the dream of following her grandfather in his footsteps. He had been a respected doctor who had served in the Crimere in his youth. Martha admired him from a young age, but the rest of her family had seized every opportunity to dissuade her from pursuing such a dream for her status as a woman. Martha held tight to her strong belief in the inherent falsehood of her family’s expectations of her. Her mother had aspired to marry her off such as she had done with her sisters. Martha fought her on this and worked hard to get herself into the newly developed women’s medical college of Edinburgh after rejection letters from many universities across the UK. Her studies came naturally to her and she quickly gained a clerkship outside of her cohort and the begrudging respect of her fellow classmates. Martha however found that much of the material held within its logic, falsehoods which she viewed as dangerous, this she held as a closely guarded secret as it would at that time end her medical education. Her studies, her childhood and adolescent struggles against the status quo, and her clerkships flashed in quick succession before her mind’s eye as her nerves mounted. She tried hard to focus on her rehearsals as she walked.
As she neared the square, something caught her eye. Outside the clinic which she hoped would become her new work place, there was a gaggle of people, encircling something on the ground. She stopped in her tracks and focused her eyes on this sceptical for a few moments and the began walking forward. Her mind switched from nervous renumeration into that blissful clarity which came from a problem to solve. As she neared the spot, the impending interview left her conscious mind.
She reached the outskirts of the crowd and fought her way through it.
“Please excuse me, I must get through!” Martha tried to yell over the din of nervous defused worry. She pushed through the forest of tall bodies. Many shot her dirty looks as she did so. When she gained a clear view of the scene she stopped in her tracks and dropped her folder by her feet. The site that met her eyes was ultimately unremarkable, having observed such a scene on her regular house calls during her clerkship. A couple were at the nucleus of this circle, a worried looking man with the florid face of a drinker knelt beside his wife who had, Martha observed from the awkward way her legs stuck out and bent around her that she had fallen mid stride. Her eyes roved over her body from her feet to her face, noticing her deathly pallid face, the bluish tint to the skin around her mouth and nose, the same hue emanating form her finger nails and the minute, shallow breaths she could see her taking underneath her extremely tight bodice. Her bonnet had fallen off at her head suggesting a head strike and as Martha watched, she saw the woman’s mouth open slightly upon attempted inspiration, suggestive of futile attempts to breath. Inside her head, it clicked and without thinking of the consequences, or her budding reputation, she stepped forward, stooping to pick up the woman’s other hand and palpate her pulse.
Martha was alarmed by her observations and felt the urgent need to restore her ability to breath or she would die. The din of voices around her worsened as people gasped with indignation at what they clearly saw as impertinence. Martha’s close view of her patient enabled her to gather more data from her husband.
“How long has your wife been ill for? When did she first complain?” Asked Martha, the urgency in her voice she hoped would prompt him to co-operate.
“Um… well wed had a row, she took to her mothers place up the road last night. Very upset she was ya see. I thought best to give her the night with her mother and come and get her in the morning. We were walking home, not far when she began to swoon, her breath caught, and I couldn’t catch her before she fell when she is. She’s not breathing… sh… she…. I cant…” The man caught bis breath and looked down at her, tears streaking his face.
“She is still alive, watch her chest. I need to loosen her corset sir.” Martha was only telling him to do him a kindness as she knew no matter how delicately she conducted her examination and treatment, she would be met with mass indignation. Martha didn’t wait for a response but observed his face tighten in disgust.
“You see the bluish tint to her pale skin. This indicates she is low on air and slowly suffocating. See the way her mouth opens and closes with each intake of breath like a fish bereft of water. This tells me your wife simply needs to breath and she isn’t while she is so tightly laced. The cold air has constricted her vessels and her lungs also, leading to this and her fragile emotional state contributed to her current condition.” Martha explained as she worked to loosen the laces down the front of her dress. The people standing around gasped and averted their eyes. They were so tight that it was difficult to work her fingers under them.
Another man had joined her at the lady’s other side by the husband. Smartly dressed and clearly upstanding for the woman’s modesty.
“No, you mustn’t, she need only be brought inside and treated for hysteria. A masculine hand pushed hers away. Martha’s blood grew hot but she fought herself for her composure and looked up to meet the newcomers gaze.
“Do you have a knife?” she asked. The man looked horrified. “To cut away the laces!” Martha continued raising her voice slightly.
“Certainly not woman!”
The man pulled back an eye lid and gazed into it. Martha noticed as he did so, her pupil constrict.
“She is gasping ineffectively for air, it is clear to me as well as her husband that she needs the temporary loosening of her laces, so she can breath and regain full use of her lungs.” Martha began to explain herself.
“Bring her inside someone please, by the fire!” Martha lost her composure and pulled a pair of shires from her angry companions’ pocket. Blessedly, he carried them on his person, the mark of a doctor who was used to making house calls. She worked them under her fingers, protecting her chest from the blade and cut away the laces. She them blindly replaced them in the pocket of the man and watched as she was proven correct. The woman gasped, her chest heaved, and her eyes tightened before flickering open.
Before the eyes of the onlookers, the doctors and the loved one, the woman’s face regained couler and she began to move.
“Hold on love, stay put for a wee bit, you’ve had a bit of a fit. I need you to lie still until I say you can walk.” Martha said calmly to her while her eyes focused on her.
“What’s your name?” Martha asked her with a smile.
“Mrs Rose, Narelle Rose.” Replied the woman. Her hands found the loose cut laces of her dress and to Martha’s surprise Mr Rose took to reassuring his wife.
“It’s alright dear, they had to be severed to same your life.” Martha briefly saw their irate companion shoot another incredulous glance at his fellow man as he stood. She replaced her finger on the woman’s pulse in her wrist and noticed with joy that it had slowed and strengthened. She stood.
“Ok, lets help you up love, careful. Slowly.” Martha motioned to Mr Rose to help assist Mrs Rose to her feet. The crowd parted, and the doctor took up her other arm and accompanied her inside the clinic. Martha noticed the crowd still stood around.
“Well, don’t you all have lives to live? Away with you now.” She picked up her folder and dusted it off. Looking up at the door, she was met with the astute gaze of another man standing in the door way. She stepped forward and extended her hand. To her grate quiet horror, she remembered her interview. She was probably running late by now as it had slipped her mind during the commotion.
“Good morning sir, I sent a telegram some days ago in response to an advert in the times calling for a doctor at this address. My name is Doctor Hiddleston. Martha, MD. I hope I am not too late.” Martha shook the hand of whom she understood was her interviewer. His severely lined face broke into a gleeful smile as he shook her hand.
“Wonderful to meet you Doctor Hiddleston, I am Doctor F. Morris, head of this clinic, the other doctor you met is my understudy Mark Wearington. I apologies for his behavior I will be having words with him.” He said as he stood aside to allow her entry. Martha stepped into the hall and doffed her hat.
“Please go through, my office door is open. I will be with you shortly.” Dr Morris motioned toward the door to her left and she obliged, hearing him hurry to the sitting room to investigate the new patient. Martha’s eyes roved over his walls, at his untidy desk, the still smoking pipe and the many open books piled on the edges of the handsome desk. She settled herself across the desk and waited, her nerves back on full attack.
“I am very sorry about the delay Doctor Hiddleston, you appear to have saved a life this morning. Your patient is recovering nicely.” Said Dr Morris as he began clearing away the clutter. “excuse the mess, I found my attention elsewhere of late, some fascinating developments.” He seated himself behind his desk and eyed her inquisitively.
“I understand you attended a women’s medical college in Edinburgh, I have had words with some of your professors whose details you provided in your telegram. I must say I am impressed. However, I do wish to hear from you why you think you’re suited for this position.” Dr Morris paused, and his eyes pierced her like ice picks. Martha began to explain.
“I had read of your need for a third staff doctor in The Times and having conducted mostly calls at patients’ homes during my studies, saw it as a much-needed change of pace and challenge. I am very interested to participate in and learn about the practice.” Martha paused for a breath, but Dr Morris cut in.
“Your work in the homes of patients, tell me more about that. What did you encounter during these months of your clerkship?” He asked.
“The people I assisted to care for mostly suffered from ailments of the lungs, eluded to by the presence of a persistent cough and the like. I made several notes on how concurrent symptoms tended to spread in families. This I found of particular interest.” Her interviewer nodded and picked up his pipe.
“At present Doctor Hiddleston I would have no qualms about allowing you a period of probation within this practice. Having witnessed the sceptical outside our doors, my decision appears a sound one.” Morris looked at her intently. “I would however be interested to hear of how you came to your conclusion under such pressure. How is it you have such keen eyes for details and can gather such data so quickly?” Martha smiled, It was obvious now that she wasn’t about to cop a reprimand for her conduct which many would consider an assault on the poor woman’s privacy.
“I am surprised sir, your eagerness… dear dead. Well for me this skill was encouraged in me by a grate clinical teacher Doctor Jesse Matheson MD. He often emphasized the importance of a keen eye and asking oneself, what does this piece of data tell me about the problem?”
“I see…” Morris waved his pipe.
“I practiced his teaching son my house visits regularly and found them extremely useful. Not only as a diagnostic tool but also to help develop trust and confidence. I came to believe in time that many points about what is wrong along with what could be wrong and what is and isn’t being said by the patient could be read in the persons environment, body posture and dress, skin and eyes. I also learned that despite what my mentor had taught us of gynecology, women are subject to the laws of physics just as everyone else. So, when I saw that poor Mrs Rose in such distress, it did occur to me her problem could be emotional, until I took a moment to observe the scene. Several things caught my attention and pointed to a more serious and urgent matter. The way her skin took on the bluish ashen couler of the fog, the curious fish like way her mouth fought to suck in air and the awkward angle of her legs, all of which pointed to a problem of the lungs and oxygenation, I saw the expensive looking very tight dress and the way her hat had fallen off. This suggests to me that she had fallen unexpectedly. I knew then that her she would due unless her ability to breath was restored promptly and so begged the use of a blade to remove the laces of her dress.” Martha’s demeanor became subdued, having elucidated her story, she realized just how much embarrassment she may have caused. She bowed her head.
“Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable!... I have never heard the like. You say you gathered all this information entirely from your eyes?” Dr Morris sounded astonished and was grinning from ear to ear.
“Well… yes sir.” Martha was taken aback. “I hope she is not too embarrassed. Goodness, in the moment I didn’t think… I apologize sir.” Martha spoke to her knees.
“on the contrary Hiddleston, you did indeed save young Mrs Rose’ life. I would have done a similar thing, the young Wearington was indeed unjust in his protests, his hesitance may have cost the woman her life. He doesn’t realize it yet, but he could learn a thing or two from you. But we must forgive the young man his inbuilt prejudices. He is yet inexperienced.” Morris put down his pipe and put his hands together. “Indecently, I gave him a very interesting paper which monopolized my attention all night last night, you should have a read too, you may find it of interest. Welcome aboard Dr. Hiddleston, there is a spare room upstairs, I should be happy to let you lodge here and take up residence in the examination room down the hall to your right. I think you shall find it to your liking. I will ask young Wearington to give you the tour this evening. You may make the needed adjustments to your personal life and living situation. I will add your name to a new plaque I am having commissioned for our front door. I’m sure you will for right in here.” He stood, and Martha followed suit and succeeded him out of his office.
Wearington! This is Dr Hiddleston. She will be joining us here as a fellow doctor and I trust you will conduct a tour of the clinic this evening after your work day.” In the sitting room with a now fully alert Mrs Rose and a jovial Dr Wearington who saw Martha and lost his smile. He shook her hand politely and fought to maintain the facade of professionalism. Martha had gathered from their meeting outside that she was not liked by Dr Wearington. Martha greeted him professionally, shaking his hand and smiling. He nodded to his boss.
“Well how is young Mrs Rose feeling.” Asked Morris sitting beside her. Martha engaged Wearington.
“I apologise for my eagerness before outside, it must have seemed rather too forward of me and to all, impertinent. I didn’t mean to snub you.” Martha was sincere in her apology to her college.
“I must admit, though I am in awe of your competence given your womanhood, I am yet to see exactly why my senior has hired you. I will be keen to see in time how you measure up.” He addressed Martha in the familiar and infuriating way she was used to from most of her male fellow doctors. She felt a rush of hot red anger but fought to keep her cool. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“We shall see doctor. I look forward to your detailed orientation this evening.” Martha bowed politely to him and sidestepped him to exit the clinic.
On her way back home to collect her packed trunk from her mother’s house, she bathed in the warm vat of joy welling within her heart. She had enjoyed several small victories that morning. Little did Martha know the resistance she would come to face from her new cohort and the public. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was filling someone else’s shoes and had to remind herself periodically that she had trained and worked hard to be where she was in her life. However today, she felt full of hope and in tough with the joy she gets from her field of study and work. She couldn’t yet comprehend the difficulties she would face.

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