Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [66]
A short while later, a noise in the hallway was followed by an aide calling out cheerily, “Breakfast.” She propped the door open and carried in the food. “Enjoy,” she said, disappearing as quickly as she’d come.
Fran lifted the metal lids to reveal the eggs and French toast she’d ordered. “Hungry?”
Expecting an enthusiastic appetite from Charlie, Fran was surprised to see him push away from the food, closing his eyes and grimacing. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” he said through gritted teeth. “But it … it hurts.”
“Oh, Charlie. I’ll get a nurse in here right away.”
“Stop fussing over him, Fran. What hurts, son?”
Dr. Owens, on her morning rounds, rapped lightly on the door. “Good morning. Looks like I’ve come at the perfect time to mooch some breakfast. That smells good.”
Charlie managed a strained smile, but she immediately noted his distress. “What is it, Charlie? Having some phantom pain? Does the amputated leg hurt?”
Wide-eyed, he asked, “How did you … and how can it …?”
“How can an amputated limb hurt?” She put her chart down, placed her hands gently around Charlie’s bandaged stump. “I need to check your incision, Charlie, but I’ll be as gentle as possible, okay? If you aren’t ready to see just yet—and that’s understandable—then avert your eyes. Check the weather outside … or look at your mom. She’d like that. Okay, I’m removing the pressure garment now … the bandage … takes a while. Let’s see here … oh, it looks great, Charlie.” Dr. Owens was efficient and swift, and Charlie began to breathe easier. “It’s healing well. The incision itself looks super. Swelling’s down. Yes, this is looking so much better already.”
Andrea had followed Dr. Owens into the room, ready to assist. She smiled at Fran, nodded at Charles. “Hey, buddy. I hear you’re hungry this morning, huh? That’s great.”
Andrea set to work dressing the wound and refitting the pressure garment as Dr. Owens watched. Charlie cried out and Fran flinched. She took Charlie’s hand and squeezed gently.
“Hangin’ in there?” Dr. Owens asked.
Charlie nodded, but he was biting his lower lip.
“Almost done, brave young man. Know what? We need to get you up and around today.” She picked up Charlie’s chart again, began making notes. “So what do you think, Andrea? Think we can get him out on a walk later?”
“I’d love to take this handsome young man for a stroll.” Winking at Charlie, she rushed out of the room, moving with her usual sense of urgency.
Dr. Owens put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “That’s done. Now, tell me about your discomfort, Charlie.”
“It’s like … like my leg is still there, and it’s burning.”
She looked up at Charles and Fran before beginning to explain, “Despite what you might be thinking, phantom pain is absolutely real. Every amputee patient I’ve ever had has experienced it.” Dr. Owens turned toward Charlie again, emphasizing her point. “You’re not imagining it, Charlie.” She scribbled some notes on Charlie’s chart. “We can help relieve the pain with meds, Charlie, which I’m going to order right now. Experiencing any other symptoms?”
Charlie shrugged. “It’s prob’ly nothing.”
“Everything’s important, Charlie. Even things that may seem small to you, I want to know about.”
“Well, I’m hot. All the time. Wish it could be cooler in here.”
“As a matter of fact …” she paused as she wrote again, “I was expecting you to tell me that very thing because circulation is very much affected by an amputation.” Dr. Owens put down the chart to give all three of them her full attention. “Here’s the problem: The body controls its temperature by cycling blood through your limbs. It distributes heat when your heart pumps the warm blood outward throughout your limbs. Then the returning blood—which has lost some of its heat—cools the rest of your body, your upper torso. Since you’ve lost your leg, Charlie, you can’t do that the same way you used to. So most amputees complain of feeling hot.”
“So how do we fix that?” Charles asked.
“Once Charlie’s