The Hind Cut


Gannon lay face down and spread-eagled on the bed, exhausted from a long day in the surgery. Just as he was settling the phone rang in the Hall, its piercing sound stabbing his brain. At least Dot will know how to field the call, divert it to another GP. ‘Hello’ that’s not Dot’s voice, its little Liam. ‘Yes he’s here ….. okay I’ll just get him for you’. Can he not just say that I’m gone out or something? Bloody hell. The six year old boy came bounding down the hallway and burst into his parent’s bedroom. ‘Dad there is some man on the phone and he wants to talk to you, said it’s very important’. Important? ‘How important son? Have the Martians landed in Longford again? He rose gingerly, muttering ‘bloody hell’ as he marched down the long hall towards the telephone, grabbing the receiver ‘Who is this?’ His curt request was met by a quietly spoken ‘Hello Doctor Gannon, it’s Michael Fanning here, I’m in the Dew Drop Inn. You better come quick as there has been an accident’ ‘What sort of an accident?’ ‘It’s Mary Kate Joyce, she sat on a pint glass and is all cut in her hinds. She’s in a bad way Doctor’. Gannon sighed, it was all he needed now, an evening call to a bloody pub. ‘When did it happen?’ ‘only ‘bout five minutes ago, she’s in the Bar wailing in pain and bleeding bad’ ‘Okay I’m on my way’. Gannon looked around but Liam was nowhere to be seen. He knew he had been short with the boy who was sensitive. ‘Liam? Liam where are you?’ No answer. Damn it he thought, he hated going out without apologising to Liam for his sarcasm but it would have to wait.

Gannon carried the tools of his trade in old black satchel which he always threw in the back seat of the SAAB. ‘The Dew Drop Inn’ was set in the heart of the rolling drumlin country, close to the border and at a remote crossroads. When he first came to the area over a decade ago it was described as being close to the borderline, just like its people. In those first few years Gannon took his time to settle. The move was intended to be only a stop gap measure in his medical career, but as the years past and the children settled into the quiet hamlet, so did he. As he became more settled he also began to gain the trust of the locals. It didn’t happen overnight and deep down he felt that it really didn’t matter how long he lived here, he would always be an outsider. He imagined himself as l’etranger. He didn’t let his different perspective on life interfere with his devotion to his profession or to his patients. There were times when he missed his previous postings in Africa and Oman but this was balanced with the knowledge that he had found a safe and secure place to bring up his children, notwithstanding the troubles just ten miles up the road.

‘The Dew Drop Inn’ was an imposing two story building with annexes at both ends and fuel pumps out front. It was set at a crossroads with neither road really leading anywhere interesting. There was no town or village in the parish of Ballybrown and so as such ‘The Dew Drop’ was the focal point of the community. Births, deaths and every significant life event in between was celebrated here. The shop sold all the necessary provisions for rural life. The post office was also part of the shop and it and the telephone Box were the links to the rest of the world and the hundreds of parishioners who now lived far away in places like Manchester, Birmingham, Coventry, New York, Boston and Philadelphia. The walls were adorned with pictures of past parish football teams who had enjoyed success on the battlefield. It was considered a social embarrassment not to be included in one of these line-ups. These were the thoughts that filled the head of Dr. Michael Gannon as he sped the five miles from his home to the infamous ‘Dew Drop Inn’, the social hub of Ballybrown by night, but by day it was inhabited by men for whom drink, and the companionship of those who drink, was their only solace in life. Most of these creatures would be there now awaiting his arrival, and there was poor Mary Kate Joyce in the middle of them, her arse torn to shreds by a pint glass.

            ‘Ah its Doctor Gannon, well this a turnaround, usually its us that travels to him but tonight he’s come to our principal POB’ It was Jack Burgess. Gannon knew him well and his incredibly large ego. Burgess held court here daily in the public bar and while he was not well-liked and considered an annoyance, to the people of Ballybrown he was there annoyance and so occupied an important part of the parish ecosystem.

‘What’s a POB?’ asked Benny Maguire the little hunched up man sat on the stool beside Burgess.

‘Benny my good friend, a POB is our principal place of business, the place where we transact ourselves, the place where, were we a body capable of registration that is, that such registered office would be located, the place where, were a stranger to seek us out and ask such directions of a person of the locality, that person would be directed to this very place, right here Benny, this is our POB’

‘Well seeing as it is such an augmentious occasion the Doctor might buy us a drink’

 ‘Christ man, don’t be talking like that in front of the Doctor, have you no fucking manners at all ………….. the Doctor will buy us a drink in his own good time’

A group were huddled in the corner beneath the television. One woman, the only other female on the premises was holding the hand of Mary Kate Joyce and appeared to be just finishing the Rosary, ‘Hail holy Queen, mother of Mercy, send in most .. Dr Gannon, come in doctor, come in quick, thank God you’re here’. Mary Kate was moaning and when she saw Gannon she started shrieking, ‘ah Doctor, Doctor, am I going to die, I’m near bled out, ah God’. Mary Kate was lying on several towels which were all now crimson. The place looked like a casualty clearing station. ‘You’re okay Mary Kate, you are going to be just fine, try not to worry, we’ll see to you now and get you cleaned up’

Tom Penrose, the proprietor came in from the side door. His complexion was the white of a ghost. No doubt despite the drama around him he would have taken time to check that his public liability insurance was up to date. Gannon grabbed his arm ‘Look I can’t operate on a woman in a public bar’. Penrose nodded, ‘I know Doctor, will we help you load her up and so you can bring her to Mullingar?’ Gannon frowned ‘No Tommy I mean bring her into the lounge!’

The wails of Mary Kate could be heard in several parishes, ‘I’m finished Doctor’. Gannon gently rolled the victim over on her side. She was very much on the plump side. As he rolled up her blood sodden skirt he revealed her ripped nylon stockings and several lacerations to both buttocks. One was quite deep but there didn’t appear to be too much damage to any underlying blood vessels or nerves. Mary must for once be grateful for the bountiful and generous extent of her posterior. Gannon was confident he could suture the main wound but first he’d give her a jab of local anaesthetic. The patient didn’t even feel the needle enter her buttocks and Gannon took this for a good sign. The amount of blood was making things look a lot worse than they were and the assembled audience were only exacerbating tension. ‘Can you stand up Mary Kate please?’ Oh Jesus no I can’t move Doctor, Oh I’m in an awful way’ ‘You will be if you don’t move now my dear’ knowing full well that neither himself nor the half dozen well inebriated men in the bar were be equipped to lift Mary Kates twenty stone frame out of the bar and into the lounge. Gradually with gentle persuasion Mary Kate stood up and with some more coaxing was persuaded to put one foot in front of the other until they slowly made their way into the dimly lit lounge. ‘This won’t do’ thought Gannon but then he eyed the pool table which had a spotlight overhead.

‘Bring her over here and place her on the table, take it gently boys’. Penrose jumped in front of them, arms outstretched ‘Not the new pool table’ he cried. ‘It’ll be destroyed, I only bought it two year ago’. ‘Well go and get some bed linen Tommy and be quick’. As Penrose ran behind the bar and into the house quarters Gannon got a glass. He pushed up the optic and filled himself a brandy. He took a swig and then threw it on his head. He pushed the glass up again for a refill before returning to where the newly commissioned medical orderlies Jack Dexter, Michael Fanning and Pipsey Rooney were having an impromptu cigarette break. Dexter was holding his cigarette to Mary Kate’s mouth and she was dragging on it as if it were her last great of nicotine.

‘Ah Jaysus lads’ cried Tommy returning with a big cardboard box and a well-worn white sheet. ‘Ye can’t smoke in the lounge, ye know that well ye bloody fools. What an evening I’m putting in’.

Dexter went over to the emergency exit and pushing down the bars opened the door letting a whoosh of cool October air in. Sucking strongly on the last remnants of the cigarette he threw the butt on the path. Rooney followed suit and they closed the door. Penrose was tearing up the cardboard box by now and spreading it flat across the pool table. Suddenly the double doors from the hall opened and in came a visibly inebriated Pat Joyce, ‘How are you now darling, you are in good hands, God bless you Doctor Gannon’ ‘How am I he says, How do I look to you with me arse shredded in bits and bared to half the men of the parish’ The wounded looking Pat slid up along the side of the pool table and held his wife’s hand ‘Ah darling don’t be like that in front of the men, the doctor will surely do his best to save you, isn’t that right Doctor, god bless ya and save ya’

Dexter and Rooney lifted Mary Kate up on to the Pool Table and Gannon rolled her gently over. The men averted their gaze but there really was no way of letting modesty take any foothold in this situation. Penrose came back with a basin of warm water and a clean tea towel. The bright light over the pool table was turned on and Gannon began by cleaning the wounds. As the blood was cleaned off he could see that many of the cuts were superficial and he picked out several small pieces of glass. ‘Do your best Doctor I’ve 9 kids at home and they wouldn’t survive without their mammy’ ‘Well they must be surviving alright tonight’  thought Gannon to himself. The blood still flowed from one of the deeper wounds and so Gannon got Pat Joyce to squeeze the two sides of the open cut together to stem the flow. He then took out his suture kit and threaded the nylon monofilament through the eye of the needle. He began to put Mary Kate Joyce’s bum back together stitch by stitch in a standard single interrupted closure of the wound. The smaller wounds were easily dealt with and bandaged. All in all the procedure took less than half an hour and at this stage Penrose was getting agitated and looking at his watch

Gannon was guiding the patient out to the car. ‘I’m just afraid Doctor you know. It won’t affect me if I was you to have another baby?’. ‘Oh no, not at all Mary. Are you pregnant?’ ‘Not that I know of Doctor’. Mary paused for a little break, ‘How many have you now?’ asked Gannon. ‘Well we had ten but nine living’. ‘Nine!’ repeated Gannon, he had thought they had six or seven at most. ‘You know there are procedures available Mrs Joyce. You can get a procedure or Pat either and then you wouldn’t have to worry about getting pregnant’. Mary Kate thought for a few moments before walking again, ‘God I think I’ve had enough procedures for one night Doctor but thanks very much’. Her husband was now out opening the passenger side door and linking her in. ‘Maybe we can talk about again when you get over this. You’ll come into me Tuesday or Wednesday so I can check how you are healing. I’ve given Pat something to help with pain and sleep’.

‘Thanks for everything Doctor …. and the other advice too but I think I will take what God gives me’. Gannon smiled but inside he was sighing ‘Has God not given her enough?’

The Doctor returned to the Lounge to gather up his satchel. Penrose had already cleared the make-shift operating table and was wiping the edges of the pool table with a damp cloth. ‘You timed that well Doctor. We’ve an ould pool competition tonight with the Courtmacsweeney lads. You are welcome to sponsor a spot prize if you like.’ Gannon shook his head ‘I’ll have another Brandy though’. Penrose finished wiping and shuffled behind the counter to get Gannon a drink. ‘Oh and send a drink up to Professor Burgess and his able assistant there’.

Gannon gathered up his instruments and put them in his satchel. He looked around the empty lounge. The Bar was filling up though. He was tired and needed sleep. He held the squat glass in his hand and savoured the aroma of the Cognac just under his nostrils before finishing it. He walked purposefully through the hallway and out to the fresh air. As he put the car in gear and turned it towards home he thought of what Mary Kate had said. He wondered had God given him too much also.


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