Breathing

Surgery and Dread

Surgery:

Aramis poured wine over the left side of Athos, who was propped on his right side with several pillows. Cécile dried the area with a soft cloth and then moved to the head of the bed. She stood out of the way but ready with necessary tools, linen cloths for swabbing, and water for the surgery.

M. Molyneux gently cut through Aramis's basting stitches, easily reopening the wound. "We shall get rid of these temporary stitches and close up these wounds for good. That is the hope, anyway, Aramis."

"I think Athos is more than ready to close up these wounds up for good." Aramis nodded.

"If you could pull the edges together and hold, I will run the needle through. . ." Molyneux instructed Aramis as he worked. "Very good, Aramis. Perhaps, if we work together at this speed and proficiency, we will have surgery done much faster than we thought."

The sick Musketeer in the infirmary awoke, coughing heavily, before vomiting over the edge of his bed once again. Molyneux and Aramis exchanged angry glances, each shaking their heads.

"Aramis, could you hold the needle for a moment?" Molyneux placed a linen cloth loosely over Athos's nose and mouth so he wasn't breathing in germs.

"I should have thought to cover him with a mask this morning, doctor." Cécile shook her head, sadly. "Actually, I should have moved Athos's face away when Doctor Senne brought the sick Musketeer by his bedside."

"Cécile, we already went over this." Aramis chastised her lamenting. "I will speak to the captain about Doctor Senne."

"I hope there are no more sick men brought in here," Molyneux said. "If there are more, we will have to move Athos somewhere else to recover."

The two healers went about working on Athos in relative silence, too concentrated on their delicate work for much chatter.

Molyneux placed the stitches in an even, close pattern for less scarring on the skin and less chance for tearing as it healed.
"How does that look to you, Aramis?" Molyneux stepped back to mop a towel over his face and take a long drink of water.

"Looks very good, doctor. It looks every bit as good—no, it looks better—than his first stitching."

"Thank you, but don't let M. Berteau hear you say that." Molyneux laughed, as did Cécile. "I am flattered you would say it, however. M. Berteau is the best physician I know."

"You both are the best physicians I know." Aramis said, matter-of-factly. "May I ask you a question, doctor?"

"Of course," Molyneux answered.

"You are such a talented physician, why aren't you working at a hospital, such as Hôtel-Dieu here in Paris, where you can offer more people your services?"

"Have you ever gone into those hospitals, Aramis?" Molyneux shook his head. "They are frightful, barbaric places. I would never wish to be a patient inside a hospital; nor would I want to be a physician at one, unless absolutely necessary. You are more qualified than many of the doctors at the hospital, Aramis. Those so-called physicians have patients under their care, yet many of these same patients do not live through their prescribed treatment. It is terribly frightful."

"I think that is the general consensus among, at least, my three brother Musketeers and me." Aramis said quietly, his voice low. "We'd rather be treated anywhere but here in this infirmary. I have been encouraged to hone my skills as a medic because my three brothers won't seek treatment from anyone else."

"That is quite a compliment to your skill. Unfortunate, however, for the rest of the Musketeers who do not have the same access to your skills, Aramis." Molyneux said, raising his eyebrows.