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Chapter 17

           Thedaywashotandthefliescameintheopenwindowsinswarms,fatlazyfliesthatbrokethespiritsofthemenaspaincouldnot.Thetideofsmellsandpainroseandroseabouther.PerspirationsoakedthroughherfreshlystarcheddressasshefollowedDr.Meadeabout,abasininherhand.

           Oh,thenauseaofstandingbythedoctor,tryingnottovomitwhenhisbrightknifecutintomortifyingflesh!Andoh,thehorrorofhearingthescreamsfromtheoperatingwardwhereamputationsweregoingon!Andthesick,helplesssenseofpityatthesightoftense,whitefacesofmangledmenwaitingforthedoctortogettothem,menwhoseearswerefilledwithscreams,menwaitingforthedreadfulwords:"I’msorry,myboy,butthathandwillhavetocomeoff.Yes,yes,Iknow;butlook,seethoseredstreaks?It’llhavetocomeoff."

           Chloroformwassoscarcenowitwasusedonlyfortheworstamputationsandopiumwasapreciousthing,usedonlytoeasethedyingoutoflife,notthelivingoutofpain.Therewasnoquinineandnoiodineatall.Yes,Scarlettwassickofitall,andthatmorningshewishedthatshe,likeMelanie,hadtheexcuseofpregnancytooffer.Thatwasabouttheonlyexcusethatwassociallyacceptablefornotnursingthesedays.

           Whennooncame,sheputoffherapronandsneakedawayfromthehospitalwhileMrs.Merriwetherwasbusywritingaletterforagangling,illiteratemountaineer.Scarlettfeltthatshecouldstanditnolonger.

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