Annapurna (31 page)

Was it auto-suggestion? The needle was withdrawn abruptly, and while Ichac sterilized the instruments, I had a few moments’ respite.

‘It’s excruciating, the way it hurts,’ I said, just as if Oudot needed telling!

‘Yes, I know, but we must go on.’

The performance was repeated on the other leg. My nerves were all to pieces, and to brace myself like this took all my strength. In went the needle and I howled and sobbed miserably, but tried in vain to keep still. I could see nothing because of the bandage. If
only
I could have seen the faces of my friends it might perhaps have helped me. But I was in the dark – a terrible darkness – with nowhere to look for consolation but within myself. It was late and we had all had more than enough. Then for that day it was over and the first-aid party moved on to Lachenal’s tent. Perhaps he would have more courage in face of physical pain.

It seemed to me, when I vaguely became aware of the end of the session, that things had gone more quickly for him. Terray slept in Lachenal’s tent and Couzy and Ichac slept beside Rébuffat, who was delirious and moaned about his feet all night. Oudot came and lay down next to me. If anything were to happen, he would be there.

Next day plans were completed for the evacuation of the entire camp: the three injured men would be taken down on sledges, two would be able to walk, with assistance, and four were all right. There were miles of glacier to cover, rock barriers to get down, interminable moraines and scree slopes to skirt round or to traverse, a river to cross, and a pass of over 13,000 feet to negotiate – and all this in the monsoon!

It was now June 6th, and Ichac was worried; he remembered the Tilman expedition to Nanda Devi, which was held up for three weeks by rivers swollen by the torrential monsoon rains. Should we have time to reach the Gandaki Valley where the easier gradient would put fewer obstacles in our way? In a week’s time we must be clear of the mountains. Soon Couzy would be fit again, Terray cured of his ophthalmia and Rébuffat able to walk. But there were two serious casualties who would have to be carried on the porters’ backs under the most appalling conditions, as far as the main valley.

‘I can’t believe it,’ remarked Ichac, ‘it’s actually fine today.’

The medical supplies urgently demanded by Oudot had arrived from Camp I. He began his rounds with me, and was pleased because the injections had been effective and warmth had returned as far as my insteps. He put fresh dressings on my hands, and though I felt no real pain, there was, nevertheless, some sort of feeling in my fingers. Again I put my question:

‘What shall I have left?’

‘I can’t exactly say. Things have not completely settled down yet and I hope to be able to gain an inch or so. I think you’ll be able to
use
your hands. Of course,’ and he hesitated for a moment, ‘you’ll lose one or two joints of each finger, but if there’s enough of the thumbs left, you’ll have a pinch hold, and that’s of prime importance.’

It was grim news, but still, only yesterday I had feared that the consequences would be far worse. For me this meant goodbye to a great many plans, and it also implied a new kind of life, perhaps even a new conception of existence. But I had neither the strength nor the wish to look into the future.

I appreciated Oudot’s courage and was grateful to him for not being afraid to tell me the extent of the amputations which he foresaw would be necessary. He treated me as a man and as a friend, with courage and frankness which I shall never forget.

The injections, which had already done so much good, had to be repeated. This time the session would be even worse and I was terrified at the prospect. I am ashamed to say that the thought of this treatment daunted me – and yet so many people have had to endure it. This time it was to be an injection not of novocaine but acetylcholine, of which a few ampoules had been brought up from Camp I. Terray joined me in the tent and stood close beside me. He, too, could see nothing under his bandage, and he had to be guided if he wanted to move about at all. I pictured his face, and touched his features with my forearms while Ichac and Oudot prepared the needles, ether and ampoules. I whispered to Lionel what a fearful ordeal I found it all, and begged him to stay close.

‘Oudot will warn me before inserting the needle; I mustn’t budge then, and you must hold me as tight as you can in your arms.’

I hoped that Terray’s presence would help me bear the agony. Oudot began with my legs; as on the day before, it was too awful for words. I howled and cried and sobbed in Terray’s arms while he held me tight with all his strength. I felt as if my foot was burning – as if it had been suddenly plunged into boiling oil. Professionally, Oudot was in the seventh heaven and everybody shared his delight in my suffering, which was proof of the success of the treatment. This gave me courage and at last, after the fourth syringeful, the necessary 100 c.c. had been injected.

‘Now for the arms,’ announced Oudot.

This session seemed to go on for ever and I was utterly worn out, but there was distinctly more feeling in my right arm. Oudot
stormed
away – the needles were either too thick or too small, too thin or too long: never just right, and each time it meant a fresh stab. I began to howl like a dog again.

‘Hold me tighter,’ I gasped between sobs to Terray, who was already holding me as tightly as he could. I tried hard not to tremble, but Oudot was not satisfied:

‘Don’t move,
nom d’une pipe!
We’ll go on as long as we must. It’s
got
to succeed.’

‘Sorry, I’m doing all I can; I’ll bear it, never fear.’

I held out my arm for a fresh attempt. When Oudot did find the artery, then it was the needle that got blocked – the too-thick blood clotted inside. From the bend of the elbow Oudot gradually tried higher and higher up towards the shoulder so as not always to stab in the same place. Twice he touched a nerve: I did not cry but sobbed spasmodically. What an eternity of suffering! I could do nothing. Oudot stopped for a moment. ‘We’ll manage all right,’ Ichac assured me.

‘Stick it, Maurice!’ Terray whispered. ‘It’ll soon be over; it’s dreadful, I know, but I’m here beside you.’

Yes, he was there. Without him I could never have borne it all. This man whom we thought hard because he was strong, who made himself out to be a tough peasant, showed a tenderness and affection towards me that I have never seen equalled. I hid my face against him and he put his arms round my neck.

‘Come on! Get on with it!’

‘Too small and too fine,’ shouted Oudot.

He began to lose patience. All this fuss with the instruments exasperated me, and I wondered if they would have succeeded ‘first go’ in a nursing home.

After several hours, and goodness knows how many attempts, the injection was successfully made. In spite of frightful pain I remained still as the syringe was emptied. Deftly Oudot replaced it with another without removing the needle from the artery. With the second syringeful, I felt the warmth spreading, and Oudot was exultant. But this warmth became unbearable. I howled and clung to Terray in desperation, holding my arm out stiff, without, so I hoped, moving it a fraction of an inch. Then I felt the needle being withdrawn and cotton wool applied.

‘Right arm finished! Now for the left!’

Oudot could not find the artery, and this puzzled him. I told him that when I was young I had seriously damaged this arm, and that explained everything: that was why there had been no blood pressure, and why he could feel no pulse. The position of the artery was not normal, and it was not possible to make an injection in the bend of the elbow; it would have to be done at the shoulder – much more difficult. I thought of what it had been like for the right arm! Suddenly, at the fifth or sixth attempt, Oudot shouted:

‘I’ ve got it!’

I kept absolutely still: syringeful after syringeful went in.

‘I’ll have to do a
stellaire
.’

I had no idea what this was. Oudot explained that it meant injecting novocaine into the nerve ganglion to dilate the arteries and make them easier to find, and improve the blood supply. A long needle was necessary, to stick into the neck in the region of the pleura. I was in despair. It was just too much. For hours and hours I had endured this agony – I should never have the strength for more. But Oudot lost no time, the needle was ready, and he began to explore my neck:

‘This is a tricky bit of work. You have to insert the needle in a certain direction, then, when you come up against an obstacle you have to push to the left, and you’re bound to be in the right spot.’

‘Warn me before you stick it in.’

In the silence that followed I heard things being moved around.

‘I’m going to insert the needle;’ Oudot announced.

I braced myself immediately, and resolved to keep perfectly still. The needle went in – it must have been a tremendous length; it touched a very sensitive part and the pain made me cry out in Terray’s arms. Oudot was now manoeuvring to get the needle into the ganglion, and I could feel it moving deep down. It was in! First shot! The liquid must have started flowing in, but I could not feel it.

‘Will it take long?’ I asked faintly.

‘It’s almost finished,’ he replied holding his breath. ‘Only another 20 c.c. to go in.’

I felt the awful needle being pulled out: it was over, and now I could relax. Oudot was very pleased: it had been almost a whole day’s work, but he had managed to do everything he wanted. Never had I suffered so much in my life; but if my feet and hands
were
saved it was thanks to Oudot and his perseverance. Ichac helped him collect the instruments to take along to Lachenal’s tent. For the time being he was satisfied with my general condition, but what effect this generalized frost-bite would have on my body in the next few days remained to be seen. The camp was becoming more and more like a hospital: everybody’s thoughts and actions were dictated by the condition of the casualties, and everybody hung on the surgeon’s lips. From now on his word was law.

That same day began the incredible work of transporting the injured, which ended only after a long and painful retreat, lasting five weeks, beneath torrential rain and over dangerously steep ground. This retreat, during which all the injured slowly recovered, will for ever remain an achievement of the highest order, and it reflects great honour upon all the members of the Expedition.

The sledge we had at our disposal was an extra-lightweight Dufour
luge
mounted on two skis for runners. Naturally, the Sherpas were not familiar with this contraption, so Oudot and Ichac decided to make the least injured of us, Rébuffat, the victim of the first tryout. Schatz took charge of operations, with four Sherpas whom he placed in V formation round the sledge, and the procession started off about 2.30. Rébuffat was well wrapped up and firmly tied to the sledge in case it should tip over. As night fell the four Sherpas arrived back in camp, bringing a note from Schatz advising the use of six men for subsequent descents.

Meanwhile Oudot had given all his patients injections and the evening was spent in changing the dressings. Soon after nightfall the weather worsened, and again it snowed heavily. The others were alarmed and decided to get the rest of the casualties down before it became too late. As luck would have it next morning, when we woke up, it was fine. I was to be taken down first, and before I left Oudot inspected my feet and hands and changed the dressings. He was very satisfied and described my progress as ‘spectacular’! I was dressed, put in a sleeping-bag and laid on the Dufour sledge, and Angtharkay directed the team of Sherpas. I could see nothing under my bandage, but I felt the air was warm and so knew it must be fine; I hated the thought of being transported without being able to see what was going on. I was very glad to hear that Ichac would accompany me down so that I should not be
alone
if I needed anything. In my heart I dreaded this descent, particularly the passage over the rock barriers. How would they manage? But the Sherpas were intelligent chaps and never had to be shown anything twice. Afterwards, when we were in camp, Ichac told me how much he had admired them: ‘It would have been difficult to find a team like this in France,’ he said; ‘every one of them did his utmost and every move was perfectly co-ordinated.’

With a few jerks the sledge started off. I was weak and slightly deaf, but I recognized Oudot’s voice in the climber’s familiar
Bonne descente!
No doubt he was there behind us, waving a hand. Swaddled in all my clothes, I began to sweat; the sun must have been beating down. Sometimes my back skimmed the surface of the snow; now and again Ichac came close and said something, and it did me good to hear him and know he was there. Suddenly the slope steepened, and in spite of the straps holding me in position, I slipped forward. The Sherpas took up their positions in an inverted V in order to brake the sledge. We had reached the big rock band, and as far as I could remember the angle here was steep. I guessed that Ichac had driven his axe in to keep me in balance.

I heard a hollow echo – seracs – and the pace had to be forced now for there was danger of their collapsing. We came to the rocks – and how these Sherpas managed, I shall never know. The wall was very steep yet I was carried on the sledge itself; Ichac told me later that if my eyes had not been blindfolded I should never have been able to stand the sight of such acrobatics and of such impossible positions. I heard sighs of relief – we must have reached the glacier at last. The sledge reverted to a horizontal position, and I was on the snow. A few minutes rest, and on we went at what seemed to me a breakneck pace; I pictured the Sherpas pulling on the ropes all round me and running in the snow, though no doubt this was only imagination. Then we slowed up – we had reached the moraine of Camp I.

I was left alone for a moment while the Sherpas put up a big valley tent into which they carried me a few minutes later. Ichac settled himself beside me – from now on we always shared the same tent and he watched over me, day and night, like a brother. The descent had taken two hours and twenty minutes, and the Sherpas had been marvellous. What should we have done without them?