Anonymous - Dara

'But what does he say about consumption?' I asked anxiously.

'Yes, alright, I am about to tell you. These are his very words: “In the first stages of consumption, suck a healthy woman daily”. He then goes on to say that this cured his father.'

'If that's the case, Lionel,' I firmly announced, 'we must get you a wet nurse as soon as we can. Today if possible. But how do we find such a person?'

'Ask Vladimir. He knows nearly all the women around here, and while you're out buy some beef and vegetables. I think a bowl of meat broth would help to build up my strength.'

After buying the beef I made haste to Vladimir's stall and, pushing my way through the women crowding around his stall, sought guidance about finding a wet nurse. He gave me the names of two women and their whereabouts. One of them, a Mrs. Ada Bunt, lived nearby but she was out when I called so I left a message that her attendance was required at the health institution. I returned to Lionel's bedside in case he had taken a turn for the worse in my absence.

Ada Bunt arrived at the institution late in the afternoon, smelling strongly of drink. A blunt, blowzy, heavily-built woman with a coarse laugh. I took a dislike to her on first sight but greeted her politely for Lionel's sake. If he was going to be cured by a woman's milk, what did it matter where it came from. She laughed uproariously when I told her that the doctor required her milk.

She remonstrated in a loud voice, 'What! A man at my tits; that's something I hadn't expected. I'm not sure I want that,' she said dubiously, and then a greedy look came into her eyes as she viewed the interior of the institution.

'You will have to pay double. Two dollars a visit and as much milk as he can swallow. What do you say?'

I nodded agreement and took her to the doctor. She didn't reply to Lionel's polite greeting but settled herself down on a chair near his bed, unbuttoned her blouse and exposed two huge breasts, each as big as my head. The nipples were also very large and hung down like two dark brown pox-marked thumbs. She got Lionel into a sitting position with his knees between her fat thighs and then, putting a hand behind his head, pressed his face into one of her breasts. I couldn't tell how Lionel was taking this treatment, but I found the whole business shocking and revolting.

She was obviously enjoying humiliating the doctor and giving him rough treatment. When the time came for him to change over to the other breast she was deliberately awkward slurping the wet nipple across his face and then winked at me, assuming I would also share the joke. That settled it for me. I vowed she wouldn't enter the building again. Someone would have to be found to supply Lionel with the milk he needed to cure his consumption.

When he had finished with the other breast I settled him back into his bed and, escorting the woman to the door, handed her two dollars and told her that we wouldn't require her services any more. She started to protest but didn't get very far with that as I pushed her through the door and locked it.

Shortly after her departure I set out to call on Mrs. Minnie Summers, the other woman that Vladimir had informed me had recently lost her baby. When I met her, after a number of enquiries as to where she lived, I made it clear to her, right from the very beginning, that it was a man with consumption who needed her milk.

She was a young woman of about twenty years with rosy cheeks and a fresh complexion, completely unprepared and at a loss for words to answer my request for her to wet nurse a grown man.

'I don't know what to say,' she said. 'I'm all confused. You had better talk to my husband.'

He was at the table finishing his evening meal when I entered. Sitting down opposite him I immediately launched into an emotional appeal for his permission to allow his wife to save a good doctor from dying from consumption. I went on at some length and made such a passionate plea to their Christian charity that they were both on the point of tears by the time I had finished talking.

The long and the short of it was that I left them on the understanding that they would think about it and, if they decided to help the sick doctor, Minnie would be at the health institution the following morning at nine o'clock. Before I left Minnie at the door I informed her that if she was willing to help to cure the doctor of his consumption she would be paid two dollars a visit which would amount to fourteen dollars a week for her services. An attractive sum of money for people in their circumstances.

On the morrow Minnie knocked on our front door prompt at nine o'clock. I had arrived early to help Lionel dress and shave. He was looking better but there were pink patches on the cheeks of his face which gave a false appearance of good health.

Minnie, blushing with confusion, was plainly embarrassed at the prospect of exposing her breasts to Lionel. To save her modesty I draped a table cloth over her front and tied it at the neck. When she had her blouse undone I instructed Lionel to tuck his head under the cloth and take the milk he so desperately needed to make him well again. To begin with he seemed to be having some difficulty in getting the milk to flow and Minnie, with a tender expression on her face, gently placed a hand on the back of his head and squeezed her breast with the other hand. There were no more problems after that and the three of us soon became good friends in the days that followed her first visit.

As far as Lionel's health was concerned, it was never the same two weeks running. There were times when he seemed to be almost his normal self, seemingly in good health and attending to the patients with great care and understanding. And then without any warning there would be a relapse when he was too weak to get out of bed. I was sure the milk he was getting from Minnie was very sustaining and it provided the nourishment he needed but I had serious doubts as to it bringing about a permanent cure of his consumption. Time alone would tell I thought, but feared the worst.

Lionel could be very kind and generous with his services when the mood took him that way. One morning in early February he received an urgent call to attend a man lying on the dockside with a broken leg. I was reluctant to let Lionel go as it was a cold, wet, windy day and he had a persistent cough which usually was the forerunner to a relapse that brought him to his bed. There was no stopping him. Collecting bandages and tinctures I hurried after him as he left the institution in haste.

Some men were assembling a makeshift stretcher when we arrived at the scene of the accident. Lionel made a quick examination and instructed me to cut the cloth of the trouser leg from ankle to knee and then to purchase twenty eggs from a nearby stall. Taking a bottle of whisky from his pocket, he allowed the injured man to drink a generous portion of it before preparing to set the broken bone. After setting the bone, Lionel bandaged the leg with three large strips of linen, coating each strip with the whites of the eggs which he had mixed previously with flour. After a little while the egg-soaked linen became as hard as wood. On learning that the patient had a wife with seven children and that he was as poor as a church mouse, he told the man that there would be no charge for his services. Before the man had time to thank him Lionel was on his way back to the institution. We had walked but a short distance when the heavens opened and a heavy rain storm descended upon us. We were soaked to the skin before we got back to the institution.

Lionel, chilled to the bone and shivering, quickly undressed and got between the bed sheets. I poured out a large glass of brandy and got him to sip it while I prepared some hot soup.

The next day he looked dreadful, as if he was at death's door. From that time on he was very rarely out of bed and coughing up blood almost every day.