Description
When I first got accepted to work at Ohio State Hospital I really thought it was some sick joke. I mean my resume had coffee stains all over it, I was 15 minutes late to the interview, and I accidentally handed Dr. Stevens a roll of toilet paper instead of bandages one time. It didn’t really help that I had been partying all night the night before. Heh, sororities right? I almost broke down in the middle of the demonstration before Stevens put his hands on my shoulder and calmed me down.
He reminded me a lot of my father-without the hair lip. He was the reason I wanted to work in the facial reconstruction ward in the first place. He wore a face mask through my sister’s wedding photos and I’d be damned if he’d do it through mine. Stevens took me aside and showed me something. His left hand was… different, to put it politely. At rest it always bent down at the wrist, and his fingers instinctively clumped together at the tips, almost as if he was sprinkling salt. He had to strain to spread his fingers out to show me the scars all over his tissue. “You’re not the klutziest person to apply for a job here, I’ll tell you that. Do me a favor, remember to keep your scalpels where you’ll remember them.” I nodded, not really knowing how to process what I was looking at. He told me how in the middle of an operation, he didn’t watch his footing, slipped in a pool of blood, and drove the scalpel he had right into his other wrist. He told me how he lost his job, almost lost his medical license, he spent years in PT before he could even operate again.
Despite all this he had such a warm smile on his face, he was like Mr. Rogers meets House MD. I asked him how he dealt with it all and all he said was “God and entomology.” Yeah, I know, should have asked, but I figured it was some reference that just went over my head. When I walked in for my first day here was the first to welcome me, he told me he was happy I’d be coming aboard and ready to help my “transformation”. Again kinda weird. He saw the look I was giving and explained, “From a klutzy ditz like myself to a successful and talented doctor, like myself!” Yeah his humor was a bit old, then again so was he, I laughed anyway.
The first weeks went fine, as fine as puss stained scrubbs and cramped hands can be. Watching him work, it was like his injury never even happened. He moved like he was conducting some orchestra. He was amazing.
Then one day I came into the breakroom and found him eating maggots. Maggots? I had to be seeing things. He again noticed how weirded out I was and told me at his age he needed all the soft protein he could get. I guess it wasn’t that weird. I guess I’d seen lollipops with scorpions in them before so it was kinda the same. He offered me one. I took it just to be nice. Couldn’t be that bad.
It was.
It tasted like pre-chewed bread and baby food. I spat it in a napkin and I could hear him chuckling. “You old bastard!” I said, half joking. He was fun like that.
One day after a particularly difficult skin graft, my legs ready to give out, my fingers stiff as a board, he hands me something. Without looking I assumed it was a rag, and almost smeared several bodily fluids all over the wrapping paper. When I looked inside I saw a necklace. It looked like a crescent moon, and upon closer inspection I saw an inscription.
“And God said, ‘Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so.’ ” - Genesis 1:24
I told him it was lovely, but I wasn’t particularly religious. He winced at that a little I think, but quickly resumed his cheerful old man grin. “Oh, dear I know, it's just… it was my daughter’s, you see. You remind me so much of her, I just thought it might shine as bright on you as it did on her.” Oh what the hell, how could I say no?
Just as I was about to check out, he asked me to help him with something. Not a problem I thought, probably just needs help finding his glasses or something. Boy was I wrong. When I woke up, my head was searing with pain, I don’t know what he hit me with but it hit hard. I don’t think he knew I was awake at that point, he was muttering something to himself.
“Not religious. What’s this world come to?”
I must have groaned from the pain because he turned his head to me. He was scowling. “Pagan freak!” He hissed, before back handing me. With his left hand. Like it was nothing. Like we weren’t friends. Like he wasn’t crippled. I felt like that cop at the end of The Usual Suspects.
“There's still time, you know. To change your heart. To make any last prayers.”
“What are you? Why a..? Uhh” Was all I could say. Not exactly a Hail Mary.
“Never mind that, then” he said as he slipped the anesthetic mask over my nose and mouth, “you’ll be praying soon enough…”