Clift's Notes

Posted By Doctor Clift on August 28, 2009

We arrived at Fort Frederick late this past evening, barely being settled in the barracks there before a great rainstorm barraged us.  Today I will be attending to the men who are stationed here with their general maladies, as well as receiving the meager provisions for medicines sent from Annapolis towne.  The trip from Cumberland was mostly uneventful, if not long.  At night I would sit around the fire with the enlisted men to sing and tell stories of home, but as I have no wife to speak of, nor children to reminisce about, I was mostly a listener, rather than a teller.

Some of the locals around the Fort have heard rumors of a French troop wandering the woods with some of the Indians who raid these regions.  They have sought solace in the Fort, in anticipation of the raids that will surely follow if the rumors are true.  They are gracious people, offering to cook and do laundry and other tasks for the soldiers here, and for myself in exchange for medical services.  One of the good ladies has offered her services as a midwife and general herbal woman to provide me with additional supplies from the woods surrounding the fort, if I’ll just look at her son’s condition- I believe it to be a whooping cough, but it could possibly be consumption.  The supplies she’ll be gathering will be a welcome relief however- some of these local herbs seem to be more effective than what I have been receiving from England.
I dare say that I hope the rumors are true- what a show it would be for the French if they were to show up in the protectorate of the Fort, only to find an extra detachment of men to defend it.  And for myself, it would be exciting to deal with some true surgical injuries.  I find myself growing nervous as to my skills, not having been in practice of them for some weeks, with only minor illnesses to care for.  I should mentally go through the tasks of bullet extraction, and make sure my tools are at the ready at the hospital.

For bullet extraction, I will have need for my probe, forceps, extractor, needles, and tow and bandages.  In most cases, I’ve found that my fingers will suffice for extracting the bullet and whatever detritus has followed it in- bits of shirt, tree, grass, et cetera, but at times the probe and forceps are necessary to find the offending bit of lead. Once removed, I can then fill the wound with tow, which the patient will have to pull a small bit out of daily, then put a minor stitch in the wound, depending on the size.  A bandage to stem the bleeding, and then a course of rest, and a sparse diet of broth and beer for a week should have the soldier on the mend.   If the bullet is particularly lodged deep, then the bullet extractor- a great iron screw which I insert into the wound, and work into the bullet to grasp it and pull it out, is required.  In those cases however, I find more complications and infections.  It seems rather odd for it to be so, but I would imagine that the screw may interfere with the humours in a way that has not shown itself in more general situations.
It does amaze me for the strong constitutions the men have when I am performing these procedures upon them- even their mates who do hold them steady while I ply my ministrations upon them- nary a one will look pale or feel faint of heart.  In many cases, the men I am extracting the bullet from do have a fit of hysterics with screaming and crying, but for the pain they are experiencing at that point, I do have a sympathy for.  I do not use the Laudanum as liberally as some of my counterparts, but I do dose appropriately to try to ease the suffering of the wounded man.  However, some men do faint and lose their consciousness before I ply them with the Laudanum, which does make it ever so easy for me to finish my work quickly without struggle.
I have been fortunate as of yet to only have a few deaths under my care, but I tend to not blame myself- rather to blame those who are causing this war to happen, which is truly the real cause of the surgeries I am required to perform.  I wonder if those Surgeons in the French Employ have a similar outlook, and blame us as we blame them?

The Captain has just sent his steward for me to come to his Quarters for he has a bit of the melancholy about him.  I must take my bleeding implements with me.

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