She Has Hysteria

[ArcticAvenue]

(closed for Sidney_1)

The London waiting room for the offices of Whitehill, Gilles, & McNaught was designed with the expectation of comforting and welcoming it’s patience with the decency that the doctors wished to project in all that they do. The elegant sitting area is adorned with fine renaissance styled paintings, wall coverings of red & gold patterns, and elegant chairs filled where aristocratic ladies awaiting their appointment. The room is quiet when the door closes, free from the hustle of carriages and commoners on the street. A small table stands near the hallways to the remainder of the offices, behind which sits a woman in a nurse’s outfit whom greets those who come in. Partons are attend to with the finest of teas, the kindest of words, and the sympathetic ear her that is a model to nurses of her service. These days, Whitehill, Gilles & McNaught are very busy with patients; which the partners feel that it is because the elegance and discrete nature of their ways.

The three partner doctors of this clinic specialize in the diagnosis and treatment of Female Hysteria. An infliction causes such symptoms including faintness, nervousness, sexual desire, irritability, and troublemaking. Dr. Whitehall led much of the research in his younger years into what he believed the main source, the ‘vemonizing of female semen within the womb’; more often in those women no longer having intercourse thus gaining the name “The Widow’s Disease”. After practicing on his own for 15 years, he partnered in 1887 with the French expert in Sebastian Gilles to begin this clinic to offer their patients hysterical paroxysm achieved through pelvic and genital message. As demand for their services grew, they brought on their third partner; a young doctor named Harrison McNaught. It is the young doctor who garners most of the new patients, but much of the attention of late in the practice.

Dr. McNaught emerges from the hallway to the front room, and he enjoys it when any attention is given onto him, whether from patents or not. He is a confident man, maybe a bit arrogant for his age, and when most the clientele is far older than he there seems to be many an opportunity to be looked upon with little modesty. For a man just at marrying age, he stands quite tall at six feet, with his short brown hair kept just to a curl on his head. He wears a long white coat like that of his trade, but underneath he wears a soft white shirt, red vest, and fine pinstripe trousers that not only make him appear taller but fits in well in today’s finer society. At his side is a woman who nearly exaggerate his stature, as she is a short yet rounder woman in her early 40s that seems flushed by otherwise normal. His brown eyes, soft curves of his cheeks, and gentle smile comes from his own smugness for a duty well done. The lady, a patent of his for just a few months, is responding well to the treatment, and told him she is now referring his services to all the women in her social circle.

He makes polite conversation with her as he passes her off to the nurse to finalize the next appointment. It is the dignified means of patient care that Dr. Whitehall and Dr. Gilles taught him on his arrival. Remain cordial, dignified, and discrete with the women who come to this place, and they will accept more willingly the treatment to cure this dreadful affliction. He gracefully nods to the other patients around the room, giving wider smiles to those he knows. Yet as it is in this place he doesn’t address any in particular, in case one wishes not to be known in this place. There are those here he does not recognize, an odd case since most of the patients return regularly, but that only means there will be a new patient. As he is the newest in the clinic, and has yet to build the appointment book that Dr. Whitehall and Dr. Gilles has, he assumes any new patient will be handed over to him soon enough.

After he departed the waiting area, Harrison returns to his private treatment room. Each doctor in this clinic has one adjoining their desk but separated by a curtain in case family wish to wait in this part of the clinic. The treatment room itself is adorned much like the waiting room, with soft warm colors along the wall and grand paintings of peaceful places. A chair made special for the treatment is the main feature, which allows a lady to lie back, place her feet in comfortable stirrups, and to open her legs so that the doctor can apply gentle massage to her womanhood. There is also a moveable box that is like a miniature shade, that can be slid into place so when the woman’s skirtings are lifted she remains dignified. For the doctor, there is a small stool to help position himself comfortably with a small table for towels, one of which remains used from the last patient.

While he has a few minutes to prepare for the next, he takes his time to change the air. He opens the window, letting the fresh spring breeze come in from off the park across the street. He lights two candles, that permeate the scent of sandalwood; as well as refilling the heated oil tin filled with a mix of vanilla. Shortly, the room begins to feel comforting, a shift away from the musky scent left by the last patient. It is in part that which intends to give comfort to any that are new. Harrison is nothing if not attentive to what he presents.

Yet he stops, a moment where he feels the weakness of his own come on. He reached for the towel, the same he used to wipe his fingers clean and dry the last patient’s moisture. He lifts the towel to his nose and breathes in the scent. The woman was far from attractive, yet she was very receptive, giving him much to inhale now in his moment alone. Deep inside him, he can feel the heat grow in his blood. A need and a want.

He pauses, collects himself, then disposes of the towel. Regardless of his wants, he had a duty. Now was to prepare for the next to support that.

 

[Sidney_1]

Miss Catherine Dodson

Catherine sat dutifully close to her mother, Margaret Dodson, as they waited to be called upon to be seen by Dr. McNaught. She found it odd that there were only older women in the waiting area and none of them seemed half as nervous as she felt. Her mother had told her little of why she was to be examined by the doctor, simply stating, “We need to make certain that you are not of ill health, as your behavior and actions have become intolerable to our household.”

Catherine knew she was willful, stubborn, and heretofore had been successful in resisting the desires of her parents to be wed into marriage. Fortunately, they had allowed her to attend just enough schooling so that she could read and write well; and at age fourteen, she had helped with chores with her younger siblings and in her parents’ tailor and dress-making shop.

And, now, at age eighteen, she had adamantly balked at meetings with marital suitors. She knew her parents were concerned about her future—as she also had no desire to enter the convent, be a nurse or governess, be a sweat shop worker, or even worse. . . a prostitute.

So, here she was, hoping that the doctor would inform her mother that she was not ready to be a wife and her moods and irritability were explainable by science or that she was of right mind.

Catherine’s mother had insisted she wear a simple gray and white pinstripe corseted poplin dress with a hoop. Her hat was a bit more striking – black with a large red bow and peacock feathers under which her long, blonde hair was twisted tightly.

“This is for the best, Catherine. I want you to do exactly as the doctor tells you and answer his questions thoroughly and politely. As much as he permits me, I will be with you, and will speak on your behalf if Dr. McNaught addresses me. He has an excellent reputation, so I am praying he can help you with your distress.”

Catherine kept her hands folded in her lap and waited to be called by the nurse.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

A soft knock on the door caused Harrison to look up from his desk. In front of him was only notes he finished on previous clients, but was expecting the next client when the knock came. Upon calling for entrance, in popped the head of a clinic nurse.

“If you are ready, doctor,” she asked, “I have Mrs. Margaret Dodson and her daughter, sure?”

He took a quick look to at a loose note on small stack of notes. “Ahh yes,” he read. “Miss Catherine Dodson, and mother. You can bring them in.”

In a moment, the door was opened wider by the nurse to allow the new clientèle entry. As they entered the room, he rose to his feet and stepped around the desk to meet them. His gentlemanly greeting included an extended his hand in greeting & a deep bow to the elder woman not yet addressing the daughter. “A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Dodson, I am Dr. McNaught. Please, please have a seat.” He welcomed as he pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk.

Finally he turned to the girl, who now began to emerge from underneath the large hat to show the beauty that a tilt of the head kept hidden. Instantly, Harrison found the girl fetching from her soft eyes to the pulled back blonde hair. He wasn’t used to clients newly entered into womanhood, or for that matter hansom like she was; but she was far more beautiful than any he had met let alone one that came for the clinic’s services. He bowed to her, his eyes keen to watch hers as he dipped, “And you must be Catherine?”

 

[Sidney_1]

Catherine glanced at the slim, well-dressed doctor.

“Yes, Dr. McNaught, I am Catherine. It is unclear to me why I am here. As you can see I am quite well. But, I am here at my mother’s insistence.”

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nodding to the woman he gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, let us just see what I can do to clear your mind, and your mother’s.”

He offered Catherine the additional chair next so that mother & daughter may sit next to one another in front of the desk, while he moved back to his own. Finding his chair, he pulled forth a diary of sorts, and opened it to prepare for note taking. Positioning himself, he looked up to the woman and gave a wide smile. It may not be out of the question for a family member to bring in a potential client, yet in those cases it is the one that is not hysterical that knows more of the problem at hand. So it is as important to reassure the caregiver as it is the afflicted.

“Now please, Mrs. Dodson,” he began as he addressed the mother first, “what seems to your concerns with young Catherine. Spare no detail.”

 

[Sidney_1]

Margaret Dodson gazed at her daughter and shook her head.

“Dr. McNaught, Catherine is eighteen years-old, a beautiful young woman, but she refuses to entertain the idea of marriage. Mr. Dodson and I do not wish to sabotage our chances or reputation with potential suitors until we’re more confident that Catherine will be able to maintain the social graces that we expect of her. We do not wish for her to become an old maid for us or to become lost in the streets. She has refused to enter a convent. At present, she is working for us in our tailoring business, but we would like so much more for her. At times, she has become rather moody, and we will awake to discover that she has snuck out of the house in the evenings. She refuses to tell us where she has been. Catherine is my blood, but I no longer know how to handle her stubbornness. My husband I were hoping that pershaps you could prescribe some medication to help her be more agreeable about life.”

Catherine glanced up from the view of her hands in her lap to Dr. McNaught who was taking notes in his small ledger. He wore a neutral expression.

She could feel her heart beat erratically at the idea of being medicated or stuck with a needle. If only she could run away from this life. She would rather be an old maid than be married off right now.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He, of course, listened earnestly and occasionally looked towards the girl as his he filled his ledger. She had a simple beauty to her, not just of one of youth but of soft lines and pleasing curves. Harrison remained steadfast in his proper attention, but he did feel a desire for the woman like one might in any element of society.

As the mother finished her description, he looked back at the notes. “Yes then, troublesome nature indeed. Stubborness. Moody. Refuses to Marry. I shall come back to the concerns of her leaving your house.” He looked up at the mother and tilted his head curiously. “May I ask, she appears nervous here in this office, is that common? Also, is she prone to fainting spells, or moments where she becomes flush & warm to the touch?”

His diagnosis was clear cut already, but his thought now go to those that take additional consideration. This one, he would want to know all he can from the mother, if felt like what he needed more than just simple information.

 

[Sidney_1]

“No, Catherine isn’t nervous, she’s just headstrong. She is afraid of marriage, I suspect. No, I have never seen her faint, or be flushed or feverish. She is a strong girl and helpful to our family. We really do want the best for her.”