Went to the Asheville orthopedic surgeon Monday for a follow up on my toe surgery. It’s fine. The exam room was a double room. Behind the thin curtain was another patient, waiting for the doctor to come with his X-ray results. He was in a wheelchair and looked to be a Cherokee, maybe 60 years old. He spoke like a simple fellow from some hillbilly holler. A nurse or assistant came in and loudly delivered the news that his mended leg bones were collapsing. The surgeon came in and repeated the same thing more loudly and added, “We did the best we could. It looked good when you were last here but the bone pieces are just collapsing. We need to remove your leg so you can heal.” The man was silent and the doctor continued, “We need to amputate your leg. You’ll have a prosthesis. Do you understand?” The man spoke, “I’m gon’ hab a wooden laig?” The doctor said, “Oh they don’t make them out of wood any more. It’ll be metal and plastic.” More silence. The man said, “I’d like to tawk to somebody.” The doctor said, “Oh, you’d like a second opinion? Sure. I can get my colleague in here right now and we’ll see what he thinks.” The man said. “I wanna tawk to my fambly.”
Anyway I’m not sure why I’m relating this, but it was kind of emotionally wrenching for me to hear someone get such abrupt shocking news, up close and personal. Part of me wanted to laugh and part of me wanted to cry. I felt like jumping up and hobbling over to give him a big hug, but that really didn’t make any sense. He’d probably think he was really in a surrealistic world of craziness. I sat respectfully quiet. I was very thankful that all I had to whine about was a stiff big toe. I’m still counting my blessings.
