Here is a scene from Chapter 44 of my novel Now I’m Found, describing a smallpox epidemic that hit the Oregon City area in October 1849.
The following Sunday morning William complained, “Mama, I’m hot.”
Jenny felt his forehead—burning. O’Neil brought her a bucket of water, and she removed William’s shirt and wiped his chest and back with a soft rag. The toddler shivered and cried. “I hurt” was all he could tell his mother as he wept.
“There’s smallpox around,” O’Neil said quietly. “A company of this year’s emigrants brought it with them. Lots of folks sick.”
“Smallpox,” Jenny whispered. She hugged William close. “You think he has smallpox?”
“One family it struck is the Binghams. Their baby’s sick. You spent time with them at the picnic. Their older children been comin’ to your school.”
“My heavens!” Jenny said. “Go get Doc Tuller.”
O’Neil set out at once. While she waited for Doc, Jenny fretted over William and continued to bathe him.
“My head hurts, Mama,” William complained. He puked up the water she gave him to sip. Jenny nearly vomited herself in fear.
She tried not to let the toddler see how afraid she was, but she was close to tears when O’Neil and the doctor returned.
“Is it smallpox?” Jenny asked, crossing her arms as if she could ward off the response she dreaded.
Doc examined William’s body, arms and legs, paying particular attention to his hands and feet. He listened to the boy’s heart and felt his forehead. “Too soon to tell,” he said. “Early symptoms are there—fever, vomiting, achiness. But no spots yet. That’ll be the true sign.”
“What do I do?” Jenny’s knuckles turned white when she clutched the table where William sat for Doc’s examination.
“Watch him. Keep him away from other people. Give him lots of water. Like you did for McDougall when he had cholera.” Doc gathered his instruments. “You’ll have to close your school till the boy’s well. I’ll stop by the Pershing farm on my way home. Jonathan and David can tell the rest of your students.” Doc frowned at Jenny. “You ever had smallpox?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Mama never told me I did, and I don’t remember it.”
“If not, you’re likely to get it now. It spreads fast, and you been around your pupils and William.”
Jenny gulped and nodded.
“There’s an innoculation in England, and it’s used in the East,” Doc said. “Some doctors swear by it, others think it causes more harm than good. But no matter, ’cause I ain’t got any to give folks.”
“I’ve had smallpox, Doc.” O’Neil gestured at the marks on his face. “When I was a lad.”
“Then you can help nurse the boy,” Doc said. “Keep Jenny away as much as you can. Seems the closer someone is to the sick, the more likely they are to get the disease.”
“I’ll take care of my son,” Jenny said, lifting her chin and clenching her jaw. She wouldn’t abandon William, even if she became ill.
When Doc had packed his bag and washed his hands, she escorted him to the cabin door. “Could William die, Doc?” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.
Doc patted her arm. “Don’t worry about that yet. Most folks pull through. Keep water in him and watch the fever. But if it’s smallpox, he’s likely to end up scarred. You know that, don’t you?”
“Just as long as I still have him,” Jenny said. She would love William, scars and all. But she couldn’t lose him.
Have you been reading about past pandemics during our current crisis?
No. This one is enough!