There’s a knock at the door.
“I gotta go.”
“Okay. And Kyle—don’t feel bad about earlier. I know you didn’t mean it.”
I do feel bad, and will continue to do so. How would I feel if Mark snapped at me after a morning in bed like that? The answer is all in the negative. Theverynegative.
“I can hear you feeling bad about it.”
“Kyle?” Chris calls.
“I’m coming,” I call back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”
“See you tomorrow.”
???
“Can I come in?” Chris asks, surprising me.
I expected him to demand to be part of the appointment, whether I liked it or not. Though I suppose, technically, even if Chris feels like my guardian, according to the country, he isn’t. I have the final say, and I’m reluctant.
“It’s not nice to look at. I don’t want you to get upset.”
“I won’t get upset,” Chris promises.
“Yes, you will. I lost my leg, and it’s upsetting,” I reply.
Chris pauses to think. “You’re right,” he admits. “It is upsetting—whether I physically see it or not. But it’s up to you. I’ll wait in the lobby if you prefer.”
I waver as I consider it. I told Mark that I don’t mind other people seeing my residual limb or my prosthetic, which is true. The primary reason I hate these appointments is thatIhave to see it, andIhave to acknowledge in every gruesome detail that my leg is gone. Which I’m going to have to do whether Chris comes in or not.
I shrug. “Fine.”
We go in. I amsternly reprimanded for skipping all my appointments, and I wish it would go on forever because my prosthetic is safely hidden away for it all. Unfortunately, my specialist Terry runs out of steam and tells me to take off my prosthetic.
I briefly consider ducking my head and closing my eyes, but between Terry and Chris, I know that won’t fly. I force myself not to move in a jerky way or to hesitate. I methodically pull down the sleeve, tug off the prosthetic…tug off the prosthetic…?
It’s not coming off. I struggle for what feels like forever before casting an uncertain look at Terry.
“Stuck?” Terry kneels in front of me. He has a better angle to grasp it and gives a firm tug. I wince. My messing around with it had the sides digging in against my stump. “Is it usually difficult to take off?”
“Never,” I answer. My unease must show in my voice, because Terry pauses to offer me a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry, sometimes this happens,” Terry tells me.
He tugs and the socket pops off. I shudder at the uncomfortable feeling. Terry’s gaze is sharp. “That hurt?”
“Where I was rubbing against it at the top, trying to get it off.”
“Okay, let’s see under the lining.”
I peel it off, watching Terry’s face as he inspects me rather than looking down. I notice Chris looking. I don’t really want to see his reaction, so angle my face away.
“How long have you had the swelling?” Terry asks.
Uh…
“It swelled up when the old prosthetic snapped.”
