Trust And Hope

Chapter 17

*Richelle POV*

I sat in the hospital room, banging my foot against the bed thingie in the doctor's offices that really just feels more like a table.

"Richelle," Mom put her hand on my good knee. "Stop."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

"Lose the attitude," Mom said. "Are you ready to see your leg out of the cast?"

I looked at my lap. The truth? I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to accept the fact that I didn't have a leg anymore.

Dr. Woods walked in, smiling. "Hey, Richelle. How are you?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess." It's not usually the answer you give people, but what are you supposed to say after you lose a limb?

Dr. Woods nodded. "Understandable. Any pain?"

I lifted a shoulder. "A little, yeah."

"Not bad?" Dr. Woods asked.

I shake my head. "No, nothing unbearable. It gets worse when I get up and walk around."

Dr. Woods nodded. "Alright then. That's expected. Are you ready to get that heavy cast off?"

I nodded.

He pulled out a saw-like thing from a cabinet and cut my cast off, then sawed through the bandages beneath.

And there it was. My leg.

It was a little red at the end and swollen all over. And there was a line of fat, black stitches that run around the bottom of my leg. And it's my leg. I wanted to scream. This all felt like a bad dream. Except it wasn't. Life without a leg was my reality now.

"How much can you bend your leg?" Dr. Woods asked.

I lifted my leg, trying not to look at the big black stitches, and bent my leg as much as possible. It hit maybe a forty-five-degree angle before I stopped of exertion.

"We'll work on that," Dr. Woods said. "She's been doing physical and occupational therapy?"

I nodded.

Dr. Woods nodded. "Good. That'll help. I'll talk to your physical therapist and see if you're ready to try for a prosthetic. You'll probably need to wait a few more weeks though."

Of course. I have to work just to stand on two feet again. And one of them won't even be real.

"And this," Dr. Woods pulled out some sort of contraption from the lower cabinet. He unstrapped all of the straps and smiled at me. "Lift your leg," he told me.

I did as he said and he slid the contraption under my leg.
"Oof," I grunted as I felt the fabric touch my skin. Pain ran up my leg and into my lower back, making my muscles tense and my face scrunched up in pain.

Dr. Woods smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I should've given you a warning." Then he began to strap it around my leg.

I winced as he closed the contraption around my leg, "This will keep your leg protected," Dr. Woods explained. "It's padded, and hard at the end, so if you fall, you won't damage your stump. It's going to keep your leg straight as well to make sure that you don't damage any muscles either. I'd advise you to touch your leg as much as possible when it's out of the brace. It's going to be sensitive to touch, but it needs to be okay to touch before we start shooting for a prosthetic."

I nodded. "Okay, got it."

Dr. Woods smiled at me. "Alrighty then. I think you're good to go."

Mom passed me my crutches, and I scooted to the edge of the table, one crutch under each arm. It had been a full two weeks since my amputation. At least I could get up and walk around.