Entry the sixth.
I am glad to have been of service with your leg, for I was able both to save you the discomfort of redoing your own stitches and also to hone my barbering experience as hoped. As I have mentioned before, I have spent many years at needle, but flesh was never something I had the opportunity to sew.
In this case the procedure was to cut the previous stitches, clean the wound of drainings with wicking cloth, rinse with spirits, remove dead flesh — though in this case there was little to none, which was a great blessing — and press till fresh blood ran, and then stitch the wound shut, with care to do so swift and graceful, without piercing fat, pulling excessively, or leaving gaps. The procedure is painful, so prophylactic pain relief seems wise, alcohol if naught else is available; next I must stitch a Man I might prefer to tie down his limb so I need not fear him moving it in pain as I work. After completing the stitches, healer’s honey was applied to seal out fresh corruptions, and a bandage was affixed. The stitches will need removed in time.
I am glad the maggots were not necessary. Perhaps I came over-prepared, but I was afraid, hearing that there was a stench, that the wound was in a bad state. I imagine most patients abhor the idea of that treatment; my father steadfastly refused them for years, insisting exclusively on the clean steel of a barber’s knife to cut dead flesh. He suffered for his stubbornness and bears scars like caves on his body. If he had relented, he could have had a much gentler cure, for they eat only dead flesh and help the healthy spring back sooner.
We suffer when we are too much squeamish, even Dwarves.
[A slightly wriggly filigree, perhaps a jest to cheer the writer up from a black mood.]
Miss Jackilyn came in while you were preoccupied to have me treat a burn on her hand. Though it was no serious burn, it provided me another opportunity to learn the treatment of Man, for I was amazed that her flesh burned so much in the instant she touched the kiln door. I suppose that he who made us to be smiths foresaw that many stupid apprentices would grab hot bars bare-handed, and so we are blessed with a second's grace to drop them before we are burned. But by the looks of Miss Jackilyn's hand, we do burn the same as Men, only with a bit less ease.
If I had been present for the burn I would have advised her to put it in cold water, but as a few hours had passed I simply applied a herb-infused healer's honey and bandaged it. I understand that burns are very susceptible to corruptions, which is the chief reason not to use cautery blithely, so my treatment recommendation was to cover it and allow it to heal on its own. I have heard various recommendations for burns, from packing them with ice to applying fresh fire to them — defended with pretty theories that still sound extremely dubious to me — but most healers' consensus seems to be that the healing is mostly up to the patient's own body.
The pain will be a bother, and I feel sorry for her, for it must be hard to bear for Men. Medicines for pain are sadly rare and oft carry great expense or unfortunate side-effects. If you can extract a strong pain-killer from Mister Twofoot's pipe-weed it shall make a great difference in many cases, from these burns to your stitches.
[Another filigree, prettily-drawn.]
I have only one more case to report: Miss Sol came in hoping to acquire a sleep-aid. As you were unavailable to advise, I did not wish to attempt to mix her any powerful tonic, such as with valerian root or an even stronger herb, as I still do not trust myself to guess dosages for Men. I therefore mixed her a blend of chamomile and lavender, among the gentler herbs used for sleep. I included some rosehips and kitchen spices, as a pleasant and delicious tea on its own may be enough to help a patient sleep, if it is but everyday anxiety that keeps her awake.
I hope Miss Rue's new treatment obviates the need for her valerian tea. It is no poppy, but I would still worry about her becoming inured to it and then dependent. No doubt at times it is inevitable, but I feel a healer who gives his patient more troubles than she walked in with is a poor one.
It is the same intuition that makes me reluctant to try treating burns with fire.
[A final filigree ends this section. Another was begun below, but it has been inked out. All that can be made out is that it starts with "Day three of egg milk".]
