The Cast, Part Two

My brother and I slept in bunk beds when we were kids. When I was ten, I slipped as I was getting down from the top bunk and fractured my left ankle. They put me in a fiberglass cast identical to the one I’m wearing now, only it was kind of a puke-yellow color. 

I use the scooter when I’m out, but when I’m at work or at home, I find myself hobbling around just like I did forty years ago. Dunk. Dunk. Dunk. The cast is slippery on the hardwood floor of my apartment, and I have to step slowly and cautiously. I don’t want to bother the neighbor downstairs so I try to treat lightly, but it’s not really possible. The cast is very heavy, and it’s still extremely hot out, and I would give a thousand dollars for the chance to rotate my goddamned ankle.

“I didn’t see you on Tuesday,” I tell Shelly as she opens the door to the clinic. 

“And you won’t see me next week either. I’m taking the kids to my in-laws in Illinois.” 

“Is that good?”

“Family drama. But I’ll get to see my best friend. I’ve known her since third grade. We’re going to have a sleepover without the kids. It’s only one night but I can’t wait.” 

It’s only been three days, but they want to cut the cast off and make sure it’s not rubbing my skin open. I understand the precaution but it seems like a huge waste. But I’ll go along with anything at this point. If they tell me to start wearing polka-dotted leg-warmers to aid with the healing, I will immediately get myself a pair. 

She wheels in a machine that looks like an industrial vacuum cleaner. Attached to it by a hose is the saw, the size of electric hair clippers. The head of the saw vibrates rather than spins, so it doesn’t cut into your skin, though Shelly says, “We’ve had issues with the other saw.”

“They told me there was only one saw,” I say. 

“We try to only use this one,” she says. 

“Well at least I can’t lose any more toes.” 

She makes a number of marks on the cast with a Sharpie, then slips a long, thin strip of plastic down my leg beneath the cotton batting. “It’s gonna get loud,” she says, and it does. The saw screams just like the ones in a woodshop. She slices carefully down the side of my leg, then along the front of my foot, then up the other side, following her lines carefully. When she’s done she has to go back over some of the lines, then pries off the lid. 

“You want to keep this? Make something creepy out of it?” she asks. I say I could put it sticking out from under someone’s car. 

She measures my wounds, then says, “Oh wait, I guess I don’t have to do this. Force of habit.” She says there is more drainage than she likes, and that I’ll have to come back in twice again next week.

Dr. Ronda comes in and looks briefly at the wounds. “These look very good,” she says. “I’m happy about that.” She disappears and Shelly gathers the supplies for the new cast. She tells me to sit sideways in the chair and dangle my legs off the side, because that’s how Dr. Ronda likes it. She’s a little particular about everything.” She fills a bucket with water, and says, “This isn’t quite as warm as she likes it but I can’t get it any hotter.”

And then the doctor returns, looking oddly regal in a billowing paper smock, her brightly woven African cap like a crown. She squats on a stool, then adjusts it, then asks Shelly to adjust my chair. She sticks her hand in the water. 

“It could be a little warmer,” she says to Shelly. Then she looks at me and says, “You may have heard I’m a little particular.” She dunks a roll of casting in the bucket. “That’s because I am.” She unrolls the cast around my foot, quicker and rougher than Rochelle did. She smacks and smoothes the fiberglass as she goes, then takes a stiff board and places my foot on it to keep it perpendicular to my knee. It’s all done very quickly. She takes the board away and stands up and holds my leg. “I’ll just let this sit another twenty seconds.”  The seconds pass. “Think I’ll go home and watch Fried Green Tomatoes tonight. Haven’t seen it in a while.”

“It’s always good,” says Shelly.

She leaves and Jenny pops her head in. “I just wanted to say hi,” she says.

“Is it weird how much I miss you all?” I ask. I want to ask how KC is doing, but I don’t.

“It’s totally normal. We all miss you too. You form bonds in there.”

We chat a bit then Jenny says goodbye. Shelly rolls down my pants and puts my post-op shoe back on. 

“People think I’m really mean, but I’m actually a very nice person,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “Good luck with the in-laws.” 

“Oh God,” she groans, and goes to get my scooter. 

Gladys comes bursting in and asks if I’m good with computers. I say not really, but what do they need? She says they’re trying to attach a new monitor to the old one. As I leave, Dr. Ronda is holding a huge monitor while the others fiddle with the dangling cables, all of them talking at once. I say goodbye as I wheel past but they’re all too distracted to respond.