Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [73]
“Charles, I—”
“Not fair. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “See why I don’t like to talk about it? Brings out the best in me, huh?”
“How did you …?”
“Feel? I was just a kid, Fran; heck if I know.”
“But Charles … children have feelings too. I mean, just watch Charlie. Listen to him.” Fran stood and walked to where she could be in Charles’s line of vision, look him in the eyes. “He’s oozing fear and insecurity and frustration and sometimes anger and—”
“And what difference does it make?” he snapped. Charles leaned in, coming within inches of Fran’s face. “Ultimately, Charlie still has to suck it up, Fran. To get well, to fight anything, you gotta just do what needs to be done. Life is hard. Life is hard and it’s tough and it certainly isn’t fair. So you deal with it.” He turned, scooting his chair back beneath the desk. Picked up his pen and immediately went back to work.
Fran shook her head at him. Sighed disappointedly. Knowing she’d been dismissed and the subject was closed, she walked out of his office, closing the door firmly behind her.
By the last week in April, Charlie was ready for his big test, the biggest in his life, in Charlie’s estimation. He was to visit the prosthesis facility for the first time. In his mind, he’d earned this day. The dedicated exercising, correctly using his pressure bandage (though in the warmer, humid days of spring he’d ached to rip it off and leave it off), constant care of his suture line—keeping it clean, applying ointments and moisturizers—and elevating his stump at the slightest sign of swelling had all combined to a successful outcome. Finally, Dr. Owens had pronounced him ready for this next step. Charlie couldn’t wait to visit the company that produced the “technological marvels”—as Dr. Owens put it—that would get him upright again. At the same time, he was cautiously skeptical, attempting to restrain expectations to protect his hopes. Protect himself.
Located in a suburb of Chicago—not far from home—the offices and plant that made the prostheses proved far beyond what Charlie could have imagined. When the clinicians walked Charles, Fran, and Charlie through the facility, the technology appeared to be right out of the future.
One technician handed Charlie an ankle-foot prosthesis that was partly made of silicone. “Go ahead, feel it,” he encouraged. “It’s designed to be as lifelike as possible. Comfortable. And its natural give—due to the silicone—keeps you from tripping. I get more speed with less effort.”
“Excuse me,” Charles interjected. “You do? How could you actually try out this foot?”
The man grinned. Stood up, and walked to the opposite side of the room and back. Still smiling broadly, he asked, “Care to see it?” He lifted his pant leg to show them the ankle of the same prosthetic foot, attached to his lower shin. “Want me to take off my shoe and sock for further proof?”
Charlie’s eyes were wide with wonder. Charles appeared taken aback, and Fran, also amazed, laughed out loud. “No, that won’t be necessary. We’ll take your word for it!”
They later discovered the company employed several amputee victims to learn firsthand how to continually improve their products.
Naturally, it was the prosthetic legs that most attracted Charlie’s interest. “You actually put computers in these knees?” Charlie marveled, staring at the inner workings of a leg designed to attach at the hip. Another technician, a woman, smiled at Charlie’s fascination. She’d witnessed the enthralled reaction many times, but introducing an amputee—especially a child—to the technology was always fulfilling.
“And you program them? How?”
“To mimic the amputee’s gait—and for all different movements and speeds, such as walking, jogging, running. Even biking,” she explained. “You’ll get to do all that, but here’s a brief description of what’s in store for you. Technicians will analyze your residual limb strength first. Been doing your exercises?”
Charlie was proud to vigorously nod yes.
“Great. Next they’ll study your particular gait. How you walk. Whether you tend to lean forward,