Like the candle sitting before me,
my fire is slowly fading and thus, my friend, I write to you now. The first
signs of the sickness are upon me, my head burns with fever and the painful
lumps are beginning to form. Given the examples of my peers, I would guess I
have but a week.
The night before last
I had a dream. I believe it was to warn me of this oncoming affliction. It
started out as a beautiful dream; I was in the wood among many animals. We were
happy there, enjoying the sweetness of the morning air that brought with it the
smell of flowers. I laid down to rest among my animal friends but when I awoke
everything was different. It was the same beautiful place, but it seemed as if
darkness had fallen upon it. I looked up and realized my grandmother was standing
in a clearing before me. At first I was elated to see her but as she walked
towards me I realized something was very wrong.
The
ground beneath her feet rotted and died with each passing step, her skin was a
pale gray and the air around her sizzled as if she were the sun itself. Dark blood-filled
lumps covered her body and as she came closer I saw that puss and blood leaked
from them.
Her face is what
brought me to tears; it was laden with pain as if all of the hardships of her
life were expressed in this one, fatal, moment. As she stepped into the wood
the trees around her wilted and formed hideous flesh like lumps, much like her
own, and died. I wanted to run, but the strength had been sucked out of me.
Instead, I was possessed with a need, a desire, to help her and found myself
standing but how I came to be I do not recall. I reached out my hand toward hers but as our
fingers met I let out a scream as I too became covered in painful boils and
lumps over the extent of my body. It was then that I awoke to my grandmother's
screams, it was that very morning my grandmother died.
Despite my knowledge
and experience in healing, I have never seen anything like this heartless
disease before. I have tried numerous methods to rid us of this plague, from
bloodletting to forced vomiting, but none has seemed to work. It is as if the
earth itself were hungry for the dust of our bodies.
There
are many theories surrounding this affliction and where it came from. Whether
it is the waters, the meat or from the angry wrath of God himself; I do not
think we will ever truly know why this has happened.
I write to you now my
fried to record the events of this plague for those after my time, for those
who seek comfort that they are not alone, and for my loved ones already fled to
the countryside. Perhaps they will find you and know that I did everything in my
power to rid us of this beast.
It started almost a
year ago, in the year of our Lord 1348. All it took was a single man to kill
off over half the city. He was sick upon arrival and though the local physician
and I did our best he died a few days after. It was then that everyone began
feeling ill, the first victim a mere babe.
I can still remember its mother's screams, I think if I could go back
and save even one it would have been that babe.
The first of the
symptoms was a headache, then chills and a fever, which left them exhausted and
prostrate. They then experienced nausea, vomiting, back pain, and soreness in
their arms and legs.
Within a day or two,
the swellings appeared. They were hard, painful, burning lumps, on their neck,
under their arms, and on their inner thighs. Soon they turned black, split open
and began to ooze puss and blood.
After
the lumps they began to bleed internally. There would be blood in their urine,
blood in their stool, and blood gathering under their skin, resulting in black
boils and spots all over their bodies. It was these very boils that had earned
this fearsome disease its name - the Black Death.
When
the Pope left in May many followed him. Some of my fellow plague doctors took
it as a sign and ran also; whether or not they are still alive today I do not
know. But perhaps they were the wise ones.
If only we had known that this disease was beyond any of man's tools, we
would have all fled to the countryside then.
Perhaps if we had, my grandmother would still be alive today.
When everyone left
they left their dead and their dying where they lay. They were afraid and they
had a right to be, but to leave their dying behind, to die alone like that…there
are times I can still hear their haunting screams echoing down the now empty
streets of this cursed city. Now that I myself am in their position I
understand just how much more painful it is.
Most would not go near the afflicted, priests
stopped giving the dying their last rights, the dead were left where they lay
in their beds, and even most physicians would not dare to help. That is except
for us, the plague doctors, how could we just let them die? To let those
children die? I suppose I am paying for that decision now. As you read this,
know that this plague has brought out the worst in humanity but in a select few
it has brought out the best in us. We stayed; we fought the dying battle, and
while we may have lost perhaps my story, our story, will inspire others.
If those traveling through are speaking the
truth then more have perished than I could possibly fathom. If history has its
way it will be cruel and erase the memory of our lives. So, my friend, I write
within your tear sodden pages now to try and defeat history's cruel wrath. To
those that read this I have died, perhaps long ago, but I plead with you now to
remember our story. Remember us.
