Free Bryson City Tales by MD Walt Larimore Page A

there weren’t any ladies present when I got there, I’d send the husband off to get some. It would give him something useful to do.
    â€œI’d also always bring a bundle of fresh newspaper from town.”
    â€œNewspaper? For what?”
    â€œWalt, newspaper is sterile. Perfectly sterile. I’d use the paper as drapes and to keep the bedsheets dry and clean. Also, once I knew the mom and baby were OK, it gave me a chance to sit back and catch up on the goings-on in town.” He chuckled.
    â€œGood obstetrics requires a good portion of patience. I’ve always said I needed a good cigar and a rocking chair to enjoy while I’m reading that paper. Just let things go their natural way. Almost always came out all right. In over forty years I only lost one baby—and that was from a knotted cord. And,” he emphasized, “I never lost a mom. Not one.”
    â€œBut, Dr. Bacon,” I quizzed, “what if you got in trouble? Did you go to a hospital?”
    â€œNope. In those days we did what was called kitchen surgery.”
    â€œYou did the C-sections at home?” I was incredulous.
    â€œOf course. Why not?”
    I paused. “Well, the lack of sterility could cause infection and death, and what about the lack of help and proper equipment?”
    He laughed. “I guess you’ve never been exposed to ‘kitchen surgery,’ have you?”
    â€œNope, that’s for sure!” I replied.
    â€œWalt, in our kitchen-surgery days we had to be content to work with no luxuries. We had to learn what essentials we had to have and how to work quickly. This is more than most modern surgeons know. Our system involved small incisions and rapid surgery. I tell you, this minimizes more infection than all the modern face masks and head covers combined. We seldom had any wound infections in our kitchen surgeries. The most important factor was prompt surgery. Small incisions. Minimal unnecessary trauma to the tissues. Expert surgical technique. Minimal exposure of any internal tissue to the air. Rapid closure and good dressings. These were the tools and trade of the kitchen surgeon.”
    â€œWas lighting a problem?”
    â€œIt could be at times. Indeed. Lantern light is hard to use for surgery. The best light was a car headlight.”
    â€œWhat did you do—bring a car battery and light into the house?”
    He laughed. “No, no. Just have someone drive the car up to the door or in front of a kitchen window and leave the headlights on—pointing into the kitchen. Then a family member would use a looking glass to reflect the light into the wound or onto the perineum. There was no better light than this—just as good as any operating room light!”
    I was fascinated. “What about anesthesia?”
    â€œThat was a problem. Nothing worse than to have a patient half-asleep—or, worse yet, waking up during the surgery—or, even worse, to have your volunteer anesthetist go to sleep from the fumes! So I’d usually take my nurse or my wife, who knew how to administer the chloroform—in the early days—and ether more recently. Of course, in the last few years, portable masks of halothane were a godsend. If my wife or my nurse wasn’t with me, I’d have to train a family member or friend. Actually, some of the country pastors who’d always show up during my sick calls got pretty good at helping me pass the gas.”
    I was quiet—feeling a bit uneducated in spite of having just come out of a prestigious medical school. I couldn’t imagine the rush, the fear, the excitement of a kitchen C-section—or a kitchen anything.
    Dr. Bacon continued, “Walt, some of my best surgery was done under these adverse conditions. It’s hard to explain, but there was something much more exhilarating about driving through the elements to attend a woman delivering a baby at her home than there ever could be walking across