Lance leaned back against the wall looking more like a wounded child than an adult. He looked shattered by Tanner’s heartfelt defense of him. Like he’d said something a much younger version of Lance had been waiting to hear for a very long time. The shock passed and Lance reached for him. His strong arms wrapped around Tanner’s torso, carefully pulling him close.
“I’m sorry you had such a shitty father. I’m so fucking sorry nobody ever stepped in to protect you. I’m so sorry,” Tanner whispered softly against Lance’s shoulder.
They held onto one another for a long time. Long enough that by the time they separated, Lance’s initial anger and guilt had been replaced by the urgent need to make sure Tanner knew he was going to be there for him regardless of what might lie ahead.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Kramer and two other physicians arrived with the results of the X-rays. Tanner knew that having three doctors meet with him were two more than assessment of a simple fracture required. All three looked tense. He didn’t know any of them, but the thickness of his medical file held by Dr. Kramer indicated she probably knew a helluva lot about him.
“Good evening again, Mr. Casey. How’s the pain?” Dr. Kramer asked as she reached his side. She was maybe late 40s and had an impressive air of competence about her that was reassuring.
“A little past kinky, and just shy of agonizing,” he replied, hoping a quick joke would ease the tension in the room. Theteam laughed politely. He wasn’t fooled though. Three doctors in one room could only mean bad news.
“Good,” she said, with a nod. She turned to the two doctors standing behind her and extended a hand towards them.
“This is Dr. Pilsner, head of orthopedics, and Dr. Klein, head of kinesiology. I asked them to join us since your case is a little—complex. Is that okay with you?” she asked, studying his expression to gauge his reaction.
He gave a brief nod as he mentally prepared himself to see something he did not want to deal with.
Dr. Kramer pulled the X-rays from his patient file and hooked them up to the light box, displaying what could only be described as his shitshow of a leg.
Lance gasped in horror, unable to control his reaction. Tanner didn’t blame him.
He’d seen this mishmash of bone fragments, screws, and rods before, of course. Many times. The orthopedic surgeon who had performed the jigsaw puzzle of operations on him had gone on at great length about the numerous fractures and the extent of the damage. He’d been pushing for an amputation, but Tanner had been adamant that he would never consent to removal of his leg. Not then and not now. Even after a 40-minute lecture about the amount of pain he’d be in for the rest of his life, Tanner had still refused to budge.
The results of the work done in saving the leg weren’t pretty. A large metal rod extended down the full length of his femur and another ran down his tibia. Each bone fragment was attached with pins and screws. His leg had healed—sort of, but it looked—pretty damned rough.
Unfortunately, several new breaks appeared on today’s X-rays. Tanner grabbed his leg reflexively as he recognized the distinct possibility of having to go through yet another round ofsurgeries. He groaned inwardly as he summoned the strength for a battle he was determined to win at all costs.
“As you can see,” Dr. Pilsner began, “you’ve suffered three new breaks, here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to each one. Two were in his shin. The first was on a diagonal with several uneven points, resembling a row of shark’s teeth. Pointing to the second one, he said, “This one is particularly problematic because it spiralized around the metal support. The one in your femur is less severe, although it did cause quite a few bone fragments to detach from their screws.” He pointed to those places higher up on the screen.
Tanner nodded in agreement with the doctor’s assessment.
“Okay, so what’s the plan? We add another metal rod? Screw them back together? How many operations will this take?” At least he was comfortable with discussing the various medical procedures and plans to schedule them, since he’d gone through a similar process when he’d returned to the US. Focusing on these key points made the pain more tolerable and helped him control his anxiety.
But Dr. Pilsner didn’t provide any kind of plan, nor did he suggest any procedures to repair the breaks. He merely shook his head, and said, “No, adding a rod wouldn’t help.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Tanner asked, scanning their faces, only to find that all-too-familiar expression of doom looking back at him. “What’s the plan?” His voice had become strident, rising steadily in volume as his stomach twisted with dread.
“Mr. Casey, there is no plan,” Dr. Pilsner said. “We cannot repair your leg.”
Tanner thought he’d gone deaf for a second because surely, he had misunderstood Dr. Pilsner’s prognosis.
“What do you mean you can’t repair his leg?” Lance asked, joining the conversation for the first time. He took a step closer to Tanner. They’d stopped holding hands before the doctors had entered, but Tanner reached for him.
Dr. Pilsner looked between them questioningly, not understanding the nature of their relationship, but he answered Lance anyway. “There is nothing we can do for Mr. Casey. No operation is going to fix this,” he advised with a heavy sigh of resignation. “The bones will heal just as they are.”
“And he’ll be able to walk on it?” Lance asked on Tanner’s behalf, since he just sat there in stunned silence.
“No,” Dr. Klein answered confidently. “Even if the leg heals well enough for it to support Mr. Casey’s body weight, the angle of the bones, the arthritis—it would all result in too much swelling and pain—” she said, shaking her head. “He’ll keep his leg, but it’ll be—useless, more or less.”
“I’m sorry, perhaps I misunderstood you,” Lance said flatly with a concerned frown. “Are you saying you’re not going to help him?” These mutually agreed upon determinations seemed ridiculous coming from three well-trained, experienced physicians.
“No. What we’re saying is—we are unable to repair the leg. The damage to the leg is irreversible, and at this stage, the only viable option is amputation.”
Tanner felt himself shut down, his expression pinched and determined. Silence descended while the doctors waited for him to speak. When Tanner didn’t respond, Lance stepped in, peltering them with questions.
“And if you—if you amputate, he’ll be able to walk? Are we talking about below the knee or—”
Dr. Pilsner started to answer, but Tanner jumped back into the conversation and cut him off.
