Quackery

My book Doctor in Petticoats is about a modern woman doctor, or as modern as she could be in the late 1880’s. I had her attend a college for women doctors in Chicago to give her the education and respectability I needed for the book.

Reading Bleed, Blister, and Purge; A History of Medicine on the American Frontier by Volney Steele, M.D. I discovered that in the 1870’s and into the early 1880’s most doctors had little to no formal learning. Harvard Medical School in 1870 didn’t even give written examinations because a good number of the students couldn’t write. Medical schools popped up that did very little to teach the students what they really needed to know to be doctors. And in some cases all they had to do was send in $5 or $10 depending on the grade of paper and receive a certificate that proclaimed them a doctor. In some cases people were better off going to a local woman who had herbal cures than going to someone with a certificate nailed on the wall.

Many of the so-called doctors would come up with gimmicks that they proclaimed healed. These were the forerunners of the term “quack” which is from quacksalver; a person who claims special merit of his medications and salves.

During the 1870’s and 1880’s the newspapers cried out about the poor medical treatment of the people in the west and mid-west until finally in 1889 when Montana received statehood, the Medical Practices Act was passed. A Board of Medical Examiners was created. This was the start of controlling the doctors practicing medicine.

Excerpt from Doctor in Petticoats. The heroine is casting the hero’s leg.

“Clay, it’s Dr. Tarkiel, Rachel. You fell and broke your leg. I have it set, but we still need to stabilize it.” She brushed the wisp of wet chestnut bangs off his forehead.

“It hurts,” he whispered.

The sound of his voice squeezed her chest. His pain had become her pain. She placed a palm on his cheek. “I know. If you’re awake enough to swallow, I can give you some medicine to help with the pain.”

“Yes,” he hissed between his lips. Furrows formed on his brow and his color paled.

“Keep holding his leg,” she said to Mr. Smith and hurried to her medicine cabinet. She tapped powdered laudanum into a glass and added water. Stirring the tonic, she returned to the table.

“Drink this. It will ease the pain.” Rachel slid a hand under Clay’s head, raising him enough to sip the liquid.

His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head at the glass. “That’s awful.”

“But it will take away your pain. Try again.” She held the glass in front of his mouth again. His reluctance to drink the foul taste was a good sign.

He drank the remainder.

Rachel settled his head on the table and filled a basin with water. She unrolled an adhesive bandage and placed it in the basin. Picking up a square bandage, she sprinkled laudanum in the middle and placed it over the wound. Mr. Smith held Clay’s leg off the table while she wrapped a clean bandage from his ankle to below his knee. She placed two long flat strips of wood on either side of the leg and wrapped the whole thing with the soaked adhesive bandage. She still marveled at the genius who’d thought to press the white plaster of Paris powder into bandages to make casting material for broken bones.

She rubbed each layer, smearing the plaster together and sealing the layers. The cast was an inch thick when she smiled at Mr. Smith. “That should keep him from doing harm while the bone heals.”

Mr. Smith shook his head. “He’s a hard man ta keep still, Miss.”

www.patyjager.net
www.patyjager/blogspot.com

My hero in Doctor in Petticoats is blind. It's a risky thing to do and you wouldn't believe how hard it is to write in a blind person's POV and not over use words like hand and touch. I made the conscience decision to have him blind when he was in an accident in the third Halsey book.

An older relative of my husband's spent several summers with us before she passed on. She was blind, angry about losing her sight, yet she was intelligent and knew how to use her other senses to make up for her loss. I enjoyed learning about her, how she felt about losing her sight, and her thoughts on life in general. I used what I'd gleaned from her visits to hopefully structure realism in my blind character. While she lost her sight gradually, my hero lost his in an explosion. He could see the man throwing the dynamite one minute and was in complete darkness the next.

I also researched the blind school which was operational at the time of my book. I called ahead and asked if I could look at their old records to get a feel for how the school was run, who and how many employees they had, and a feel for the students who attended. Reading through the old records was enlightening and fun. It was a state run school and people didn't have to pay to send their family members there. But they were tested. Some comments on the documents were: "He's feeble of mind but should be trainable." "She isn't trainable." It makes you wonder what they put them through and what they considered "feeble fo mind and untrainable". Was it attitude, low I.Q. to lost in their blindness to learn?

A superintendent ran the school with several instructors of classes to teach them a trade, like broom making, crocheting, caning on chairs, and they were taught singing everyday to boost their morale. They also learned to read Braille and use a type writer like machine that punched dots on paper for them to read.

In the real world the doctor wasn't in the school but visited regularly and was paid by the state to do so. I changed it up a little and have my heroine's father contribute to the school in order to get her the job of school doctor.

Blurb for Doctor in Petticoats
After a life-altering accident and a failed relationship, Dr. Rachel Tarkiel gave up on love and settled for a life healing others as the physician at a School for the Blind. She's happy in her vocation--until handsome Clay Halsey shows up and inspires her to want more.

Blinded by a person he considered a friend, Clay curses his circumstances and his limitations. Intriguing Dr. Tarkiel shows him no pity, though. To her, he's as much a man as he ever was.

Can these two wounded souls conquer outside obstacles, as well as their own internal fears, and find love?

Excerpt
Her head rested on his chest, one arm across his middle. He grasped her leg pushing down on his injured one and draped it over his thighs. He breathed in the citrus scent of her hair and waited for the throbbing in his leg to abate. The weight of her limbs comforted him in a way he hadn’t experienced since childhood. Her warm curves pressed against him, fitting to his body perfectly.
Clay brushed a hand over her silky hair. Dull brown, she’d said. It was too downy and sweet smelling to be a dull brown. He traced her small ear hidden under soft, short curls. His fingers followed her velvety skin up along her hairline, down the middle of her forehead, so smooth and warm, over a small bump of a nose and pouty, supple lips. He traced the pointed edges at each side. What would it feel like to taste them? A puff of warm air misted his fingers, and she mumbled.
Clay continued his exploration, moving down her chin and the side of her face. The pads of his fingers ran over a ridge. He held his breath and traced the ridge from just above her jaw all the way to her temple. The narrow pucker of skin lay two finger widths from her hairline and ran the length of her face. A scar? How had it happened? And when?
This was why she pulled back from his touch and gave such a disparaging view of herself. Had someone left this scar on her? If so, he’d find that person and make him pay. His hands fisted. He flexed his aching knuckles and squelched his rage. It wouldn’t do to show how her disfigurement riled him. His limbs gradually relaxed, and he pondered how to help her overcome her poor view of herself. How did he bring up the topic of her scar without upsetting her?
Clay wrapped his arms around Rachel’s middle and clasped his hands, holding her from rolling off the bed. Her warm breath puffed across his chest. His heart expanded at the latest knowledge about the woman. He was falling for Rachel’s caring nature, her witty conversation, and her touch that heated his body like no other. He’d give up on ever getting his sight back if he could end each day with her wrapped in his arms.

Paty Jager
www.patyjager.net
www.patyjager.blogspot.com