He Smelled So Bad

I was trading stories with an old friend who had been a nurse at the hospital at Central Prison in Raleigh and he told me this story.  My friend was off the record, which meant I couldn’t report it, couldn’t identify and interview the inmate and the doctor and put the story in the newspaper I worked for, The News and Observer.   But I can tell you the story he told me.

*  *  *

My friend said an inmate was admitted to the prison hospital with a leg injury that required an operation.  

The state was not able to get what you might call the best doctors in town to operate on inmates but, at least, the doctor  who operated and put the inmate’s leg in a cast had a license.

After the operation the doctor sort of forgot about his prison patient, he didn’t come back to check on him.

A few days later the leg started smelling, bad, my friend told me.  He said he called the doctor and told him he needed to come right away and see about the man’s leg, but the doctor didn’t come.

Other patients in the small ward at the hospital began complaining about the odor —   the guy’s leg smelled like a week-old dead chicken. They complained so much the nurses moved them to another ward.  

The odor got worse, so bad the nurses began wearing gas masks.

Finally, one of the nurses threatened the doctor: He absolutely had to come and find out what was wrong with this guy — or else. The “or else” must have gotten his attention, because he finally showed up.

Maggots
“Maggots’ excretions soothe inflamed wounds,” an  AAAS article said, promoting healing.

The nurses wheeled the patient with the rotten smell back into the operating room, the doctor cut the cast off, and a gazillion maggots fell out on the floor.

NOTE:  Actually, maggots are good for some wounds, according to an article in the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Paul Gabrielsen wrote:  “Maggots are efficient consumers of dead tissue. They munch on rotting flesh, leaving healthy tissue practically unscathed. Physicians in Napoleon’s army used the larvae to clean wounds. In World War I, American surgeon William Baer noticed that soldiers with maggot-infested gashes didn’t have the expected infection or swelling seen in other patients. The rise of penicillin in the 1940’s made clinical maggots less useful, but they bounced back in the 1990’s when antibiotic-resistant bacteria created a new demand for alternative treatments. In 2004, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved maggot therapy as a prescription treatment.”

Coming Friday: The Constant Reminders

The Bachelor

The Hill
The Hill

There’s only one way out of my neighborhood, up the hill at the end of my street. And when it’s icy we’re sealed off from the world. No one goes to work, or to the store, or anywhere. Until the snow and ice begin to melt and patches of asphalt begin showing, a four-wheel drive won’t go up that hill.

Most of us sort of like it that way, at least for a few days, especially on weekends.

We don’t get much snow down this way, near Raleigh — the forecast this winter is for three to five inches, a total of three to five inches. So snow days are holidays, time to  build a snowman and go sledding and then come back inside, sit around a fire, and drink hot chocolate.

After a few days people start to get cabin fever and want out — we can hear traffic moving on U.S. 64  just a few blocks away, but we can’t get to the highway.  So when the red licks off the candy a bunch of us get together and clean the snow and ice off that hill.

One year after it snowed, on the second morning, when we were still sledding, still on holiday, the bachelor who lived at that end of the street attacked the hill all by himself, a job that would take one man pretty much all day.  What was the matter with him?

Somebody told him if he would just wait a day, we would all help.

And this what he said, words to this effect:  “I can’t wait. I have company at my house, a girlfriend. She was supposed to leave this morning. I have more company coming this afternoon, another girlfriend.  I can’t wait.”

Well, why didn’t he say so!

A bunch of us, all married guys, went home, got our picks and shovels, came back and cleaned the snow and ice off that hill licktety-split.

When we finished his friend drove away.  And early that afternoon, his other friend arrived.

Coming Monday: He Smelled So Bad