Page 54 of Tacos & Toboggans
The worst part about the entire situation was that her hips were inches from my hands, and it would take nothing to cup her curves and pull her down to my lap, but I couldn’t. Not until she saw me for who I am when I lay down at night. I’m not just the guy she kissed in the field on a cold autumn day. I’m a man who has been blown apart by life and has spent years trying to put himself back together.
After she sat beside me again, I motioned at the charger. “Thanks. I’m having trouble keeping the battery charged. I don’t know why.”
“Is that what the beeping is all about?” she asked, and I nodded.
“The microprocessor knees run on a charge, so when it depletes, the leg warns you. I’ll show you.” Nervous, I grabbed my phone and opened the app.
“There’s an app? That’s cool.”
“It’s handy,” I agreed with a smile. “I can check the charge while on the go, but more importantly, I can change between modes easily and on the fly. That’s important since each one is programmed for what activity I need to do.”
“Why does it say hip, knee, shoulder?” she asked, pointing to several modes on the phone. “I thought that’s the knee.”
The question released some tension, and I relaxed, laughing a bit before I answered. “Those are the modes that I use for surgery. Depending on the patient's position during the procedure, I’ll pick the most appropriate one. Since some medical terms are long, I just titled them knee, hip, shoulder, wrist, and elbow, so I could flip between them easily.”
“What does each mode do?”
“It holds the knee at a certain angle,” I explained, “or stabilizes it differently so I don’t have to think about it when I’m moving from sitting to standing and back again. I can also flip it in and out of mode like I did the other night by bouncing on it in a pattern, which is important when I can’t touch the phone.”
“That’s seriously high-tech. Must have taken forever to learn.”
“It has a learning curve,” I agreed. “But it’s better than my first knee that didn’t give me the option to do that, so they’re improving with each generation of knees.”
“I figured you charged it after last night’s problem. Did you forget after you got home so late?”
“No, I charged it. That’s the problem. Normally, a charge lasts three days, even if I’m using a mode that requires more battery power, like some of my surgical ones, but lately, it barely lasts through the day.”
“Might suggest a problem.”
It wasn’t judgmental or bossy. Just a statement that made me feel like I was still in control of the situation.
“I don’t have a prosthetist here,” I explained. “It’s on my to-do list, but I just haven’t had the time to connect with a clinic yet.”
“Maybe you could reach out to Dawson? He works with a clinic out of Saginaw, and they come to Bells Pass to work with some of the vets. It’s also where Becca goes. I’m sure either one could give you the low down and maybe get you a visit to have it interrogated if nothing else.”
Taking her hand, I squeezed it gratefully, not as much for the suggestion but for the understanding. “I’ll hunt Dawson down tomorrow.”
“Probably better charge the leg first,” she said, motioning at it.
With a nod, I popped the button, flipped the two straps, then pulled my limb from it before connecting the magnet to the knee and leaning it against the couch.
“Becca has one of these,” she said, trailing her finger down my thigh, which ran a shiver down my spine. It was a foreign sensation to have someone touch that leg, but her touch made it feel erotic when it shouldn’t have. Jaelyn was trouble for my heart; there was no doubt.
“A liner,” I said to fill in the blank. “This system is a newer design for above-knee amputees. The pin holds my limb in the socket, but you see these straps?” I grabbed the leg again for her to see, and she nodded. “That’s how I adjust the socket throughout the day. If the volume of my limb shrinks and the socket feels loose, I can ratchet these straps until it’s tight again. It works better for me than other systems. Since I’ve been an amputee for quite some time, I don’t have many problems with it anymore. Only when the mechanics of the knee or foot break down.”
“This doesn’t look like Becca’s socket, that’s for sure,” she said, inspecting the prosthesis. “This is what I saw under your pants at the hospital, but I thought it was a brace.”
“What you saw on the outside of my hip, that ridge?” I asked, and she nodded. “That’s what is called the brim, which is the best part of this particular socket. The carbon fiber hard sockets make it extremely difficult to sit for extended periods, as the brim is pushed up against your hip, making ituncomfortable. That doesn’t happen with this one. I have better hip range of motion, yet the leg stays stable during surgery. In the past, I’ve had carbon fiber sockets. Some were skin fit, meaning I didn’t wear a liner, and some used the pin system and socks for volume changes, but none were as comfortable as this one. I also don’t need a new socket as often because my thigh isn’t being compressed by the hard socket all day long, causing it to lose muscle mass and shrink.”
“Becca told me that happens a lot with her leg because it has so much pressure on it all the time.” She held up her arm. “I get it because it’s only been a few weeks, and the splint is already loose.”
“Right. Our tissue atrophies. Wait,” I took her splint and noticed that it wasn’t as snug as it should be. “We can’t leave it like this. I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow and have them pad it to take up the space. If they can’t, they can make a new one.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s unnecessary. It’s not that loose.”
“Who was it that fixed that arm for you?” I asked, one brow down.
A heavy sigh preceded her answer. “You were, but I’m not your patient anymore.”
