Chapter 13
Over two weeks had passed since the article in the Leader was published, and plenty of people had offered their insight and thoughts on Carrie’s choice of career.
Some were quite open and supportive, telling her they were happy to have female doctors in town.
Others were less impressed and tended to condemn such positions for women.
Carrie was used to the negativity, especially when it came to older women feeling it was inappropriate for a single young lady to treat the bodies of men.
Such intimacy was far too great and would ruin her reputation and innocence.
There was always someone who inevitably brought up the Bible and how women were to be workers at home.
Carrie took it all in stride, however. She knew most of the folks who commented didn’t mean to cause her trouble, and those who did or who wanted to belittle her weren’t of great enough importance to even address.
As her mother once had told her, “I imagine if they had a desperate need, and you were the only doctor available, they would yield to your care fast enough.”
The newspaper had given her good exposure, and for that she was more than grateful.
Several women had sought her out. Most were suffering a variety of headaches and female troubles.
She dealt with them in her usual manner—questioning, observing, and doing her best to hear what they weren’t saying.
Most of the situations were fairly routine and of no great consequence.
During that time, Carrie also challenged herself to read a variety of books dealing with brain disorders and injuries, as well as the Baldwin book on psychology. She held herself at a high standard, testing herself on terms and conditions until she was almost able to repeat the writings verbatim.
That’s why, when a visitor came unannounced, Carrie was more than ready to put aside her studies and receive the smiling woman who stood on the other side of the door.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard of me, but I’m Dr. Buchanan,” the woman introduced herself.
“I’m so glad you decided to stop by, Dr. Buchanan.” Carrie ushered the woman into her front parlor and offered her a seat by the fire. “I have indeed heard of you. We both attended the Women’s Medical College in Chicago.”
“Call me Jennie.” The petite-framed woman took a seat and arranged her wool skirt.
“Of course, and you must call me Carrie. My mother, Marybeth Vogel, mentioned you being here.” Carrie remained standing.
“Yes, I opened an office here in Cheyenne with my husband. He’s a dentist. We’re located downtown at 307 Seventeenth, room 14.”
“And do you have an ample number of patients who are willing to put their trust in a woman doctor?”
“I do.” The woman gave a disarming smile. “Wyoming isn’t like other places. We women have long held our own in the territory. We’re the first to have the right to vote, after all. I have managed to gather a fair number of men and women in my practice.”
“I’ve had a few women come to see me, but not many. Of course, the newspaper article did stress that my area of specialty is the brain.”
“Yes, I read that as well. I know Dr. Bruce Compton also has great interest in that field.”
“We’ve already met. His interests do run in the same direction as mine.”
“It’s an important area that needs to be explored,” Jennie said, nodding. “I greatly admire your interest. Humankind is bound to be indebted to all those who continue to ask questions and seek answers, especially where the brain is concerned. It is quite daunting.”
“Would you care for tea?”
“No, I won’t stay long. I came, of course, to meet you, but I wanted to invite you to join an organization I helped create.
It’s the Territorial Medical Association.
We’re led by Dr. Crook, and we even have another lady in our midst, Dr. Antonette Williams. There are nine of us doctors here in Cheyenne, five doctors from Laramie, two from Rock Springs, two from Evanston, and one from Rawlins.
Of the nineteen members, only two are women.
It would be nice to have another. Would you consider joining us? ”
“I would love to associate with other doctors. It’s always fascinating to hear about what others are learning.” Carrie finally took a seat.
“We have a great group of people. Doctors who truly care about learning and teaching. Out here there aren’t a lot of physicians available, and we’ve begun to discuss plans for enticing others to come west.”
“I am hoping there might be enough interest on Dr. Compton’s part that we might join together in our pursuits regarding the brain. I think Cheyenne could easily become known worldwide for brain research.”
Jennie smiled and gave a nod. “It could indeed.” The grandfather clock chimed the hour. “I’m so sorry, I must go. I have a patient coming at one thirty.”
“Of course.” Carrie rose. “I’m so glad we could meet.”
“I will get you the information on our next meeting,” Jennie promised and crossed the room without even bothering to glance back.
Carrie followed her guest to the door. “Thank you for coming. While I have gained a few patients, I admit to feeling a bit unwelcome by people here. Despite there being two other women in town practicing as doctors, I have my doubts on how readily we are accepted.”
“To be sure, there are still plenty of people who doubt the ability of a female doctor, but folks are coming around. I’ll recommend patients to you as they come to me with brain issues. It is far from my area of expertise.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll send you the information on our organization and when the next meeting will be held. Good day.”
“Good day.”
Carrie watched Jennie head off down the walkway. She paused to let herself out of the picket fence gate and then headed toward town.
“Well, that was a pleasant surprise.” She genuinely liked Jennie Buchanan and hoped they might become good friends.
She had no sooner closed the front door and taken a seat at her desk, when another knock sounded. This was a most unusual day to be sure.
Carrie opened the door to find an older gentleman. He took off his hat and smiled from behind a well-trimmed mustache and beard, both as gray as the hair on his head.
“How may I help you?”
“Are you Dr. Carrie Vogel-Duval?”
She smiled. “I am. And you are?”
“Rowland Knowles. I read the article about you and am seeking a doctor’s opinion.”
Carrie shivered from the chilly winds. “Won’t you come in?” The old man did as Carrie asked, and she quickly closed the door. “It’s rather cold out there today.”
“It snowed a bit earlier but didn’t last. That’s typical of this time of year,” he replied. “I’ve been here a great many years and have found the weather to be completely unpredictable.”
“I’ve lived here most of my life, and I agree.” Carrie led him to her examination room. “Mr. Knowles, please have a seat and tell me why you’ve come today.”
He handed Carrie a leather satchel. “Inside are the reports from other physicians. I cannot begin to explain all that is going on in my head. However, to be simple and to the point, the doctors believe I have a tumor.” He held his hand to the back left portion of his head.
“Somewhere around here, but the pain has spread, and my vision blurs with exceeding regularity these days. They believe it may be something called a spider-cell glioma.”
Carrie nodded but was careful to show no reaction. “So you have seen another doctor regarding this condition?”
“I’ve seen five. The first doctor I spoke to was in San Francisco.
It’s when I first felt the effects of the disease.
After numerous tests, the doctor suggested a brain tumor.
I’ve seen two additional doctors in Denver and two in Kansas City.
All have reached the same conclusions. You’ll find it all in those papers I’ve brought. ”
Carrie opened the satchel and took out the stack of documents. “I will of course need time to study these papers, but what was their conclusion?”
“That it’s a fast-growing tumor that they suspect has spread out like a spider’s web and is completely inoperable. They’ve given me a short time to live, with the progression of the disease gradually rendering me unable to function.”
It was the exact answer Carrie had anticipated.
Since the first discovery of spider-cell gliomas in the 1870s, there had been no good news associated with the diagnosis.
As the name suggested, the cancer spread out across the brain in a webbing fashion.
Little was known or understood about the condition.
Most of the research had come purely through autopsies.
“I know there’s probably very little you can do for me, but I thought perhaps, given what I read about you, that you might have some thoughts on the matter.” He smiled. “If nothing else, perhaps my condition and demise will allow you to further study the disease.”
Carrie nodded. “I am quite willing to study the matter and discuss it further.”
The older man got to his feet. He closed his eyes for a moment, then blinked them open and held her gaze. “I appreciate your consideration, Dr. Vogel-Duval.”
“Of course. Why don’t you plan to see me again on Friday? Let’s say, two o’clock?”
“I’ll be here.” He walked slowly to the hall.
Carrie put the papers on her chair and followed after him. “I am sorry for your diagnosis. I don’t anticipate that there is much I can do for you, but I will help you in every way possible.”
He paused at the door and extended his hand. “Thank you.”
His eyes seemed almost pleading as he stared her in the face. Carrie felt immense sorrow for the man. Generally speaking, she didn’t allow her emotions to be a part of her relationship with patients. However, there was something about this man that captivated her.
Eugene Astor had barely opened the door before finding himself colliding with another man. He looked up and smiled. “Excuse me.”