Hard Bite
“It's the cell phone, brringing its head off. The distant thumping is the front door. Somebody reeeally wants in. Can't be Cinda, she has a key. Then I hear the reedy voice, "Yooooo hooooo, Mister Drayhart! Dean! It's me, Marcie, your nurse." Marcie Blattlatch got assigned for in-home visits two weeks ago. If it weren't mandatory for her to check in, ensuring steady disability checks from my top-of-the-line private insurer, I'd turf her happy butt out of here for good. But Nurse Blattlatch write...s the reports that trigger the checks so she's a necessary evil.
"I'm coming, just a minute!" It takes a while to swing my legs out of bed and get my rump inched onto the seat of the chair. Next, I have to get my hand on. I call it my hand, but it's formally known as a body-powered prosthetic hook. The steel hook protrudes from a mold of black carbon fiber fitted over my arm stump. It's held in place by a nylon harness that fits over my upper arm and shoulders. All the while, Blattlatch yodels and tap-dances in the hall.MoreLess
"I'm coming, just a minute!" It takes a while to swing my legs out of bed and get my rump inched onto the seat of the chair. Next, I have to get my hand on. I call it my hand, but it's formally known as a body-powered prosthetic hook. The steel hook protrudes from a mold of black carbon fiber fitted over my arm stump. It's held in place by a nylon harness that fits over my upper arm and shoulders. All the while, Blattlatch yodels and tap-dances in the hall.MoreLess
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