One more from Dr. Da Costa for now, with a note at the end.
The medical assistant smiled at the boy, probably around fourteen, despite the lad's scowl in return. "Dr.Da Costa tells me that you are still having some hallucinations, Andrew?"
"Why should I talk to you?" The boy grumbled and looked down at the stump that was once a leg, and the wooden stilt or whatever they called it that was now attached. "My paw died in the war, and my mama died in the famine. And now I gotta get treated by one of you," he drawled.
The assistant sighed. At least Andrew was treating him more kindly than he had at first. "Now, what's more shocking to you; seeing me training to be a doctor, or those stories you've heard about Elizabeth Blackwell?"
He'd known this was a good way to disarm the boy and get him to think. It was now April, 1866, and especially after a recent letter Da Costa had received back from Dr. Theodor Meynert last week, they had been stepping up their efforts to see how these "imprints" could be treated. Dr. Meynert was researching the amygdala himself and how different thigns might be reversible..
However, did muscles record these things,too? The assistant was going to have to hire his own assistants, what with the suggested works on "muscle memory," as it would be called many decades later, in athletes.
"I.." Andrew looked to be ready to say something, but he started looking far away.
"I'm sorry, Andrew. Did that thought remind you of your mother?" Andrew nodded almost imperceptibly. "You feel like you don't want to go home, with all those memories; you said you had an older sister, too, right?"
"She's got enough problems caring for the wee little ones...." he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.
In future years, Andrfew would be said to have "lots of issues." Had he even been thirteen when he was drafted by the desperate rebels? The assistant had no idea. All he knew was, this was the work of a despotic regime which had apparently not cared that Andrew was white; they had messed up his mind by throwing him into battle just as much as they messed up the slaves' minds before they'd finally been freed.
"Would you like to do some of that testing with the muscles we talked about with the others?" The assistant tossed him a ball, and Andrew grabbed it and began to smile. Perhaps he was out of his... trance, it almost seemed like.
"That was fun when I got to sit and ride in the Easter Parade," Andrew saidafter a moment as he threw the ball back.
The assistant smiled. He recalled how Octavius Catto had told him he used baseball as a way to start conversations. Perhaps it could help youth like this one - who was basically an orphan - to heal.
He also wondered about Andrew's older sister, who was eighteen, it seemed. What was she going through? He imagined that she probably felt like she had to get married. Perhaps she would end up marrying a Union soldier. There sure weren't very many former Confederate ones left.
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The assistant, one of a couple black ones, left Andrew with a nurse a short time later. He approached Dr. Da Costa and shared what had happened. "I didn't think it wise to go back to the hallucinations. He talked more about his sister, though. And he said there were a couple children of my race, too; he didn't want to talk about his parents then, so I let it go."
"Speculation, Richard?" the doctor asked as they walked back to his office to write out a report. While he'd hoped to get into what would be called flashbacks, he would gladly learn more about Andrew's family. They really wanted to reunite him with his sister; they didn't want a Southern orphan in Philadelphia, and while people accepted that he was still being treated, Andrew's refusal to go home seemed like more than just being sad that things were not like they had been before the rebellion.
"This mention of children of my race makes sense; I had my suspicions, as I told you before, that he or his younger siblings had played with some, based on the fact he wasn't as repulsed by my presence as most other rebel soldiers have been."
Da Costa smiled."That's good reasoning. We know from how he talked before his mother was a saint in his eyes. Any more about her?"
"All he'll say is she died in the famine. And we were able to find that his father did indeed die about two years ago in battle. He clearly has no love for the junta. He was drafted soon after they took over. My guess is he blames them for the famine,"Richard explained.
Da Costa nodded. "Probably; he's from an area that the rebels took all the food for their own men. Maybe he got word back that his mother was refusing even our meager rations once our men got there, to give it to the children. I can see that."
"But now that his woulnds are healed, what do we do?" Richard asked, anticipating Da Costa's question. "He lost some toes on the other foot, too, but his athletic skills as far as throwing are getting back to what they were, from what he tells me. I wonder if we could do a case study on that. Sort of a follow up to some of the side info you got from the athletes when you did those tests with the firecrackers."
"I like the way you think, Richard. You're trying to find a way to learn more all the time. That's going to make you a good doctor someday. But we can't just keep treating a patient forever, either."
Dr. Da Costa thought for a moment. He wondered if the boy's mother had actually died protecting the children. He knew with the reports of marauders down there, it was quite possible; even probable in some areas, given the way Andrew was so tight-lipped about it. Still, there were at least family members remaining, including an older sister who could care for him if he was reallyin bad shape. They were not yet at the place where they would be in another century when it came to treating PTSD.
Still, they could provide some hints. "Get that sister's name and an address if you can. I'm going to write her a letter - explain the memories and the like. Maybe one of the doctors down there will be able to follow up somewhat and get more info."
Richard explained that he'd even written to REbecca Crumpler. "She went down from New England to help treat Freedmen in Virginia. I doubt they'd wat her following up, but she's been collecting some good data," Richard said.
The doctor agreed. "It's odd to me; the former slaves aren't just integrating right away. More of these imprints, I guess; I don't know. It's such a new area to explore; but I think we're on the right track. I'll let Andrew's sister know what we're finding out; hopefully it'll help.
Several weeks later, Richard was checking a patient's vital signs when Dr. Da Costa came in. "Good news, Sir?"
"Yes, you can tell, huh? I got a letter from the sister of that Andrew we treated; she said he's home and in good hands. No specifics, but she says some of our suppositions were correct. There was fighting near his home, and what he saw, well... It's going to be a long road, but at least he's with family."
"I imagine it's hard for all of them, whatever it was," Richard said solemnly.
"Indeed. Had we kept him here, I suppose we could have gotten to the truth, but then, how to treat it?" The doctor flapped his hands at his side slightly. "If Dr. Meynert were here, maybe. But the sister said we did a good job, she will be tring to utilize some of my suggestions, and will keep us abreast of his recovery. In time, we may get some more data from the doctors down there which will help further our study; I'm sure there are a number of Northern doctors in the area, I have corresponded with a number who went down there."
Richard smiled. "Good. I know my colleague," he said, referring to the other black potential doctor Catto had found, "wants to remain here, but I am seriously considering going down South to practice once I complete my training." He told Dr. Da Costa how much he'd appreciated the time he'd been able to spend with him. "The research into athletes and training, into the imprints and other possible facets of the brain, into the psyche that your colleague Dr. Meynert in Europe mentioned, the burgeoning ideas growing from that new pastuerization technique, so many other things make this an amazing time to study medicine. We are finally learning just how incredibly complex we are, and just how marvelous God's handiwork is in creating us with such meticulous intricacy. I know it will be difficult, but hopefully in another generation I'll be as accepted as I am up here.`` Which wasn't exactly with open arms, but he would take what he could get.
"You'll make a good one. AS Newton said, we stand on the shoulders of giants who have gone before us. You have a good worldvview - that we are amazing complex, and perhaps there is much more to the brain than we can imagine. Be willing to keep learning your whole life, and you will do well."
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So I was thinking about the last episode of M*A*S*H, where Hawkeue has PTSD from soemething he's repressing, but the reason for it is only revealed in a few different recaps of a scene. I had thought this boy, an example of the child soldiers drafted at the end, might reveal the same thing - going from being willing to to accept Richard, who is black, a little more than others would, then going from insisting his mom died in the famine to maybe hinting at her sacrificing her own dietary needs to save the children (which Andrew does reveal) to finally having one of the roaming gangs, or eveone of the last remaining CSA armies actually killing Andrew's mother for protecting the black children because of the hatred their leader has against the now-freed populace.
However, I decided that it would be more realistic for them to only discover part of that, and to have him only able to reveal the worst later, so we don't see exactly what happens. Were they more proficient in dealing with PTSD they might have - or, as Dr. Da Costa said, if his colleague who deals with the psyche were there. But even then, the idea tended to be that family would handle thigns better, and it was hard for them to figure out what to do. So, I had Andrew go home, but Dr. Da Costa still keeps tabs and there may be a correspondence a few times a year with the sister, in fact. He treated both Union and Confederate soldiers OTL, and there's no reason to believe he wouldn't here. He is, after all, a doctor, and that's what doctors do - care for people no matter what. Just like andrew's mother insists on protecting children bec asue they are children, no matter the race - even if not every mother would.
Besides, it was really hard to think of writing the scene where he reveals the truth, and there are certain thigns I can't let enter my brain, so I figured it'd be best if Andrew doesn't share on screen.
Okay, that's probably the last interlude for a while, but that idea had come to me and I decided this was the best time.