The search for a cure to the white death.
My ancestors were gentleman farmers who rented parcels of our land to other farmers. I maintain this business under the system known as sharecropping. Of course my form of sharecropping is not of the traditional sort. Instead of taking advantage of the tenants (as some have), I receive only one-tenth of the produce. This I use for household purposes, or I will occasionally sell it or donate it to those less fortunate. I also keep dairy cows, hogs, and chickens. I have two youths (Leo and Eugene) hired to manage my cattle business. They are paid well and I give them allotments of meat, milk, and eggs for their families.
After two days Vincent, who had gone in my stead to Mackenson Institute, returned. He bore a letter from Dr. Peake. It was a heavily annotated document containing, largely, the history of the white plague.
The doctor’s correspondence revealed that my disease, known as consumption, was known to the ancient Egyptians and was found in some of the mummies that had been excavated over the years. It was also depicted in certain drawings and texts from the Fertile Crescent. Oddly, and curiously, the plague was described in certain writings attributed to some unknown scholar or mage who evidently dwelled in or near the city of Iram in what is now called the Rub’ al Khali. History and myth, it seemed, were the substance of the text.
Dr. Peake’s correspondence, I admit, was not as helpful as I had hoped. I read quickly through the remainder, and the conclusion of it stated that there is no cure for consumption. Had this been the totality of the letter I would have lost heart. The final sentence, however, gave me a great deal of hope. “I am sending Dr. Heywood to you.”
The next day I received correspondence from Ms. Ellsworth. It was clearly dictated and recorded by some secretary; this turned out to be Mrs. Whitehead. The letter explained that Ms. Ellsworth had grown gravely ill, and had been advised to move from the coast in Tenby to a residence farther inland. I was also advised that Ms. Ellsworth was being treated by Dr. Heywood. Mrs. Whitehead thanked me profusely, as it had come to the attention of Captain Ellsworth that I was responsible for Mackenson Institute’s (and so Dr. Heywood’s) interest in Ms. Ellsworth’s case. This was true, as I had named her in the correspondence that Vincent delivered in Clarkston.
I replied to the Ellsworth letter immediately and sent Vincent to deliver it the same day. I wished the family well and explained to the Captain that I was the owner of the Chapel Hill mansion. I had more than enough room for Ms. Ellsworth and her staff. I even had two furnished guesthouses that I could place at their disposal. Chapel Hill was located some distance from the coast, and at the time I believed that it was having a positive effect upon my overall condition. Although I was by no means hale and whole, I was feeling somewhat better; perhaps this was due to the climate. At any rate, I proposed in my correspondence that Ms. Ellsworth’s vigor might be somewhat restored on my estate. Two days later, my guests arrived.
Dr. Albert Heywood is a physician of no small ability, as one would expect from his appointment to serve as Mackenson Institute’s primary care physician. He is considered an expert in the field of epidemiology and is regarded in his native New England as an authority in the treatment of all manners of disease. It was Dr. Heywood himself who would become the attending physician to both me and Ms. Ellsworth. I had originally expected to be placed under the care of senior staff, and so I was both surprised and pleased that he had already determined to personally oversee my treatment. This was almost certainly arranged due to a personal request made by Reverend Peake on account of my family name. The fact that I was something of an associate of the Ellsworth family may have also been a factor in his decision.
I was pleased to witness the arrival of Ms. Ellsworth and more than happy that she would be my guest. As my closest companion and confidante, she (and Mrs. Whitehead) was assigned to one of the spacious rooms on the third floor instead of one of the detached guesthouses. Dr. Heywood had also arrived in the company of one Dr. Eric Sillsman, his assistant, and these two gentleman took up residence in the guest quarters. After their journey, it was decided to schedule our medical examinations for the following day, and to rest after partaking in an evening meal.
I passed the evening in the company of Drs. Heywood and Sillsman; Mr. and Mrs Turner; Ms. Ellsworth, and Mrs. Whitehead. Mrs. Turner (along with Mrs. Whitehead, who insisted on helping in the kitchen and would not hear otherwise) prepared a lovely dinner of steak, potatoes, sauteed asparagus, and bread. After dinner and some conversation we withdrew to the spacious front porch where the gentlemen (save myself) could light their pipes and avoid contaminating the inside air.
Ms. Ellsworth, who was descended from a long line of seafarers, continued the dialogue that had started indoors. She noted that her father had taken an immediate liking to the Mackenson Institute when he discovered its loose association with the maritime industry. She observed that many mariners of the merchant marine and some of the sailors in her father’s employ were graduates of various programs offered by the college. The topic of Captain Ellsworth’s voyages, along with the Institute itself, dominated much of the evening’s discussions. Since my family had long been patrons of the latter, I was capable of expounding much of its history, including how the seemingly insignificant city of Clarkston could be the home of an institution that was a medical, classical, and theological school.
Our talks on the front porch continued until Dr. Heywood, professing exhaustion, retired for the evening. He was soon followed by Dr. Sillsman and the Turners. Mrs. Whitehead was the next to withdraw, and the two consumptives were left alone. Shortly thereafter we retreated to the parlor to escape a chilly breeze, and it was there that we passed the remainder of the evening. Time does not allow for a great deal of elaboration; suffice to say that our retirement to our respective quarters took place hours later and after a long and agreeable visit during which we determined to consult Dr. Heywood together on the morrow. In hindsight, this was likely the point at which our fates became irrevocably intertwined.
The next morning, we met with Dr. Heywood and his assistant. The examinations proceeded in an unremarkable fashion and we were briefed on much of the information that had been stated in the letter that I had initially received from the Reverend. There is little more to say with regard to the first day’s activities; exams were conducted, our medical histories would be studied later, and a course of treatment would be developed.
The good doctor’s immediate counsel for us began with a gentle reminder that there was no cure for the disease which afflicted us. We were advised to remain at Chapel Hill in quarantine, Dr. Heywood stressing that we should be isolated from the public at all costs. We were also ordered to avoid the coast and coastal cities, including Tenby. The climate of the coast, we were told, could be deadly for those in our condition, and at the moment Chapel Hill did not seem to be adversely affecting our (or rather my) health. The doctor then advised that he would be returning to the Institute to develop his plan for our treatment. When this was accomplished he would call on us and make his recommendations known. In the meantime, Dr. Sillsman would remain on the estate so that we might have access to him at all times.
The next day Dr. Heywood departed for Mackenson Institute and Ms. Ellsworth and I were interviewed by Dr. Sillsman. His counsel consisted of orders to engage in no labor, business, or strenuous activity. We were to consider ourselves to be infectious at all times. We were to partake in a regimen of detoxification by ensuring that we consumed three meals per day and fasting in between meals. Intake of fluids was greatly encouraged. I was also advised to allow my estate and affairs to be handled by household staff, in the same way that they had during my years of military service. We were dismissed after meeting with Dr. Sillsman and withdrew to our quarters.
Ms. Ellsworth and I spent the remainder of the fall, winter, and much of the next spring of 1919 at Chapel Hill manor. We remained secluded on the off-limits third floor, though we shared in common my study in the tower. The first floor remained occupied by the Turners and the second floor was the domain of the Kings. Dr. Sillsman, as noted earlier, lived in the guesthouse. We also decided that it would be beneficial for Mrs. Whitehead to occupy the second guesthouse, so there she dwelled.
The men of the household attended to all of our household needs, save for the cooking of meals. The ladies prepared the food and it was served to us by Mr. King or Mr. Turner. We rarely had dealings with any other persons and when we did we took steps to avoid contact. Staff and sometimes guests would remain at the bottom of the stairwell and speak to us from below. When the need arose to speak more directly, our callers—usually Mr. King or Mr. Turner, but sometimes a local pastor—were required to remain across the room and away from us. Our meals were left at the door. This enforced isolation, again, was undertaken so as not to spread the plague to any other person, and in this we were successful.
In time Ms. Ellsworth and I began to venture outdoors into the garden, where we could appreciate the fresh air and sunlight. We found these diversions to be immensely pleasant, though they were soon discontinued due to our diminishing vigor and the fact that the garden lay adjacent to the lane on which traveled the public. It allowed a great deal of privacy, but not total seclusion. Around this time I grew weaker, developing the more severe pallor that was already present in Helen, and it became necessary for me— at all times—to move about with the use of my cane. Our excursions and clearly diminishing health did not go unnoticed to startled passersby, who stared at the two ghoulish figures in the garden. After several such episodes we remained mostly secluded, only venturing out at night.
I spent the majority of my time almost exclusively in the company of Ms. Ellsworth, engaging in long discussions on such things as literature, poetry, and even theology. Doubtless her sharp wit and deep intelligence was a stabilizing influence in an environment in which I would have otherwise descended into madness. Whatever the case, we became companions to the extent that we would become inseparable. During the nadir of our sufferings, and especially during the worst attacks of fevers and the accompanying chills, we would even recline back-to-back in order to endure the restless nights in the close company of another soul. Our virtual imprisonment as well as our common illness no doubt assisted in producing our inseparableness.
In a few weeks my strength seemed to return to some extent, though I experienced no real improvement (nor did Ms. Ellsworth). It was around that time, during the isolation of 1918-1919, that I began to rely more heavily on Vincent King, who professed to be honored when I proposed to him that he should consider hiring on as my personal aide. With Mr. Turner almost fully involved with the business of Chapel Hill it had become necessary to have the services of a personal representative, and so Mr. King became my point of contact with the outside world. He received a sizable raise in pay; an additional benefit that I would supply would be Mr. King’s enrollment at Mackenson Institute, in order that he could pursue whatever course of study that appealed to him.
Throughout the fall and winter we were regularly called upon, monitored, and advised by Dr. Sillsman and other doctors from Mackenson. Finally Dr. Heywood himself arrived to evaluate us. The doctor confirmed what we already suspected—we continued to degenerate. He then explained and counseled us as to his recommendations. The doctor stated that he had intended for us to be admitted to the private ward of a newly constructed hospital called the Registon Hills Sanatorium. It was a state of the art facility for consumptives located in the mountains near Colorado City, Colorado. There we would (or would have) been placed under the care of Dr. Abraham Baker, a man who was affiliated with Mackenson Institute and would report directly to Dr. Heywood. It was further explained to us that the medical establishment had confirmed that the dry climate and high altitude were conditions in which the body could restore its ability to ward off disease, and those who had been treated at such facilities recovered in greater numbers than had been thought possible even a decade earlier. Registon Hills was constructed in just such an environment. To be sure, there was no promise or guarantee of instant panacea; the treatment could work for one or both of us, or it could fail. Nevertheless, Ms. Ellsworth and I were going to be advised to travel to the facility without delay. Our respective conditions were such that we could not remain in Texas until the onset—in just a few weeks—of the intensely hot summer.
I will briefly note, in accordance with Dr. Heywood’s discourse, that life in a sanatorium revolved around treatment which was ordered in a strict, almost military manner. Except for in foul weather, the majority of our time would be spent outside on the rooftop terrace, resting in specially designed chairs where we could be exposed to sunlight and the cool mountain air. At designated times we would return to the wing to partake of our meals, which would always be prescribed by Dr. Baker as a part of our overall treatment. The sanatorium regimen, if successful, would require us to remain in Colorado for a minimum of approximately one year.
Another treatment that Dr. Heywood detailed for us pertained to new treatments taking place in Arizona. At this time the state was acclaimed by the medical field for the health benefits of its desert climate. According to learned men of the day, lungers (slang for persons with consumption) were being treated in various sanatoriums and even “tent cities” with great success. It was again noted that this particular treatment would also require a period of one year before its effectiveness could be determined.
Unfortunately, according to the doctor, his current evaluation of our conditions had convinced him that neither Colorado nor Arizona were viable options. After consulting with the ever present Dr. Sillsman, he was afraid of the dangers of such a long journey. Ms. Ellsworth and I had been growing more ill, rapidly declining day by day. We did not feel that we were capable of traveling so far out of state, and we told the doctor as much. Dr. Heywood concurred: It was simply not wise to undertake a journey to the mountains or to the desert, much of which would require traveling in a wagon. There was a very real possibility that we might not survive.
We thanked Dr. Heywood for his kindness and he returned to Mackenson Institute the next morning. Though our circumstances seemed grim, we were not entirely hopeless. Dr. Heywood would continue to oversee our cases from Clarkston, and Dr. Sillsman would remain on assignment at Chapel Hill. Dr. Heywood was still of the opinion that we would not survive unless we were treated in a suitable climate, and the location of such a place within suitable traveling distance became the focus of his investigations. Arrangements were also made, at Chapel Hill, for emergency treatment. Dr. Sillsman’s guest house was partially converted into a makeshift hospital and stocked with such supplies as were deemed necessary. These were brought in from the Clarkston General Hospital by college students from Mackenson Institute.
We spent our days much as we had in the preceding weeks, though now we were much more unwell than we had been even at the time when my appearance first became vampiric. I displayed no evidence of improvement. Indeed, I in particular continued to deteriorate, this time to a point where my fits of coughing would provoke concerns over the possibility of hypovolemic shock. Ms. Ellsworth, in time, began to display the same violent symptoms. Dr. Sillsman continually monitored us and supplied such painkillers as he could, but there was now a very real sense that we were living our last days.
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