said to Sister Eve, “May I speak with you?”
They stepped into the hallway, and I went and stood near the door so that I could hear what was said.
“The physician at Winona General has advised me that if the poison makes its way to his heart and lungs, the chances of saving him aren’t good, and even if we do, there’s a good chance of permanent damage to his internal organs. They suggested that if we want to be certain of saving the boy, we need to consider amputating that leg before it’s too late.”
“When is too late?”
“I don’t really know. But if I take the leg and it helps, then maybe we’ve saved him. If I take the leg and he dies, what have we lost?”
“Can’t we wait for the antivenom?”
“According to Winona General, in four or five hours, that boy could be dead.”
I thought about what life would be like for Albert if he had only one leg. I remembered seeing a man in Joplin once, when I was on the road with Albert and my father. The man wore an old army uniform. He had only one leg and was supporting himself with a crutch. As we passed, he held out a hat to us and said, “Lost my leg fighting for America in the Great War. Could you help me out?” My father gave him the change in his pocket, and we walked on. In my mind’s eye, all I could see was Albert on a street corner somewhere, holding out his hat for the charity of spare change.
I stepped into the hallway and said, “No.”
Pfeiffer scowled at me.
“His brother,” Sister Eve explained. “Odie, it may be the only chance we have to save his life.”
“He wouldn’t want a life with one leg,” I said and fought back tears. “He’d rather be dead. Wouldn’t you?”
Pfeiffer looked to Sister Eve. “The boy has no parents to make this decision?”
“We’re orphans,” I said.
“We should ask Albert what he wants,” Sister Eve suggested.
“I’m not sure the boy’s in any condition to make that kind of decision,” Pfeiffer replied.
“Why don’t we see?”
She returned to Albert’s bedside and knelt as if she were about to pray. She took Albert’s hand in hers. “Listen to me, Albert.”
He rolled his head on the pillow so that he could see her face.
“The doctor thinks he might be able to save your life if he amputates your leg.”
Albert was slow to respond, but he finally said, “I’ll die if he doesn’t?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“But he’s not sure?”
Sister Eve lifted her eyes to Pfeiffer, who gave a shrug.
“He’s not sure.”
“I want my leg,” Albert said, his voice trembling.
“All right.” Sister Eve leaned and kissed Albert on the forehead. She stood up and turned to Pfeiffer. “You heard.”
Pfeiffer said, “I have other patients to see to, but I’ll continue to check in. Keep him as calm and comfortable as you can. I’ll come if you need me.” He and Sammy left, and the rest of us were alone with Albert and the poison that was climbing toward my brother’s heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THROUGH THE LONG afternoon of that hot day in the summer of 1932, while we waited for the arrival of the antivenom we hoped would save my brother’s life, the creep of time was pure torture.
Albert grew worse as the hours passed. The black inched up his leg, which ballooned in a frightening swell of flesh. Sweat streamed from every pore in his body, soaking his clothes and the bedding beneath him, and because of the pain, he groaned miserably and constantly. Near sunset, he began to labor in his breathing as well.
Another doctor had arrived, Pfeiffer’s son, Julius, returning from home visits. Pfeiffer called him Julie. Sammy, it turned out, was his wife. If I hadn’t been so eaten up with worry over Albert, I’d have found it amusing that the man was called by a woman’s name and the woman by a man’s. But it was clear they were devoted to each other, and it was clear as well that the young Dr. Pfeiffer had no better idea what to do about Albert’s snakebite than his father did. He suggested wrapping Albert’s leg in ice in an attempt to reduce the swelling, which he and Sammy did together, but it seemed not to help at all. Albert was in such misery that the young doctor finally suggested morphine for the pain, which worked to a degree but left Albert groggy.
There were three chairs in the small