Stealing Fire
“During my month in Alexandria I finally had the splints and bandages off my arm, and I was not pleased with what I found.
My left hand was withered and shrunken, bulges of bone standing out at odd angles in my wrist, my first two fingers skeletal. I could move it, some. My wrist moved down a tiny bit, flexing forward a few degrees. I could close my fingers slightly. I could hold a piece of fruit cupped between fingers and thumb, but when I turned my hand over it dropped to the ground. My fi...ngers didn't have the strength to even hold a lemon.
I felt a rush of rage at the doctor, who was beaming. “There! See how nicely that's coming along?”
“I can't use it,” I said, and my voice sounded strangled.
“Not yet, of course,” he said. He took my hand in his and worked it gently, frowning only when he tried to rotate my wrist back and it would not move at all. “You've got to exercise it and let the muscles heal.”MoreLess
My left hand was withered and shrunken, bulges of bone standing out at odd angles in my wrist, my first two fingers skeletal. I could move it, some. My wrist moved down a tiny bit, flexing forward a few degrees. I could close my fingers slightly. I could hold a piece of fruit cupped between fingers and thumb, but when I turned my hand over it dropped to the ground. My fi...ngers didn't have the strength to even hold a lemon.
I felt a rush of rage at the doctor, who was beaming. “There! See how nicely that's coming along?”
“I can't use it,” I said, and my voice sounded strangled.
“Not yet, of course,” he said. He took my hand in his and worked it gently, frowning only when he tried to rotate my wrist back and it would not move at all. “You've got to exercise it and let the muscles heal.”MoreLess
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