Delilah

Chapter 22

Shortly after the cup clattered on the roof, Alian appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair disheveled, his feet bare and his robe askew.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, looking around. "I thought I heard something break."

"Break, no. Clatter, yes," I responded. "Our friend came to and, at his request, I gave him the cup of medicine rather than trying to feed it to him. After he drank, he dropped it on the roof before passing out."

"That must have been quite a drop, to wake me from a sound sleep."

"I think Sallu's plan was to throw it. The pain inflected by the sudden arm motion was what caused the cup to fall and him to lose consciousness."

"What makes you think he was going to throw the cup?"

After I explained the gist of our conversation to Alian, I asked whether he thought I should wake Naomi, since she had told me to let her know if there was any change. Since the period of consciousness was short lived and Naomi was exhausted, we decide against disturbing her. Although I urged Alian to go back to bed, he said he was well enough rested. Instead of sleeping he told me he was going to go the city gate to see if there was any scuttlebutt about our mystery guest.

"At least we have a name now," he concluded. "You said he called himself Sallu, did you not?"

After Alian left, I bathed Sallu's brow and then inspected the bandage. Seeing signs of fresh blood, I decided perhaps I should awaken Naomi after all. This proved a wise decision. When Naomi removed the bandage, she found that Sallu's action had caused the carefully packed wound to gape open where it had previously begun to scab over. She again poured the liquid designed to congeal blood over the wound. Then she told me that she was going to risk sewing the wound shut.

"You're going to stick a needle in him?" I asked incredulously. "I have heard rumors of such barbarity, but I thought it was a jest."

"My grandmother had an Egyptian servant," Naomi explained. "She had worked in a doctor's household. My grandfather was gored by an animal. My grandmother's healing skills were failing him. The wound kept gaping open. The girl told Grandma about helping the Egyptian physician while he sewed up men who were wounded in the abdomen. She said that although sewing skin is painful, it holds the wound closed in a way that bandages cannot. Grandma was desperate. Grandpa was dying. She fasted, prayed and agonized. She told her family she had a peace about trying to sew up her husband. She did, and he lived. It is something that is used only in extreme cases and after other things have failed. I believe that the time has come to sew Sallu's wound shut. Every time he moves, the wound begins to bleed again. We cannot tie the bandages tight enough for him to heal. If I do not sew the wound shut, he might eventually die from loss of blood."

"And what if that is his desire?"

"He is under my care. God has given me the gift of healing and the knowledge that I have. I must do all that I can to bring healing. If he dies anyway, then I can rest at night knowing I have done everything humanly possible. If he lives, then he will have to come to terms with the emotional pain that he carries. Once the physical pain is under control and he is conscious, perhaps I can help him to deal with the emotional and spiritual pain. When you told him to think about the people who would grieve if he died, you gave him a choice. He drank the medicine. That tells me he chose life, even if he did so reluctantly."

And so I helped with my first surgical closure. Naomi passed her sewing needle through the flames before beginning to sew. When I asked why, she said she did not really know. It was something she learned from her mother. She assumed that since fire is used to cauterize certain wounds, passing a needle through flame must help keep it from causing more bleeding during the procedure.