Read Online Blackman's Coffin by Mark de Castrique - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark de Castrique
Ads: Link
with unexpected suddenness. Walk again. Would that ever be possible? I could already hear the boys at school calling me Tiny Tim after Mr. Dickens’ Christmas Carol.
“We want Dr. Lynch to take a look at your leg,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said. “With so many of our young men coming home from the front with shattered limbs, he tells me progress is being made on artificial devices. We will do what we can to have you fitted with one.”
According to Elijah’s story, I didn’t cry from the pain of the trap, but the kindness of Mrs. Vanderbilt and her daughter sent tears flowing down my cheeks.
Monday, June 30th: I have finished writing those entries that preceded Miss Nettles giving me this journal. I must report that the newspapers are filled with the story of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. I did not know that this past Saturday, June 28, 1919, the very day Miss Nettles presented me this journal, would be of such worldwide significance. Perhaps it is an omen that my own writings will not be insignificant.
Today Dr. Lynch came to our house with what he called an extendable limb. The wooden leg is designed like a telescope. Dr. Lynch showed me how as I grow, the length of the leg can be adjusted. The wood is covered with leather, and more leather can be wrapped around it so that the thickness matches my real leg. Metal braces run on either side of my knee connecting the artificial limb to a sleeve that looks something like my mother’s corset. I lace it around my thigh to keep the top of the leg snug against my stump. Dr. Lynch says that will be the worst part for awhile, because the wound is still tender and the pressure of putting my weight down will be painful. He told the truth. When I tried to take a step, my tender skin felt like it was on fire, and Dr. Lynch caught me as I fell.
“You’re going to have to work hard,” he said. “We’ll take things slowly for the first few weeks. Once the wound has callused, you can concentrate on balance.” He removed the leg and held it up. “I promise you that you’ll have new bounce in your step. This limb came all the way from New York City. The foot is attached to springs, hinges, and rubber gaskets that enable the joint to mimic your ankle. Mrs. Vanderbilt gave strict instructions that I’m to monitor your progress and replace the limb whenever a mechanical improvement is developed or you outgrow it, even if you turn out to be seven feet tall.”
My father came to the door of my room and informed Dr. Lynch that Elijah and a crew of four workmen had arrived. I left the leg on the bed and used my crutches to walk to the back door.
Dr. Lynch pointed to an area of the yard. “Flat and shady would be nice, don’t you think, Henderson?”
“Nice for what?”
“To build parallel handrails. You’ll need a safe place to practice on that leg. That’s the way the veterans learn.”
Within an hour, Elijah and the others had finished what looked like two fences about three feet apart, three feet high, and twenty feet long. Back in the bedroom, Dr. Lynch re-attached the leg, and he and my father carried me to one end of the chute. Without a word, Elijah left his men and stood at the other. He fixed his eyes on me and nodded.
I lifted my weight on each smooth bar and lurched from side to side. Every step was like walking on hot coals the way Miss Nettles said the snake charmers in India do. The twenty feet seemed like a mile.
When I got to the end, my body was drenched in sweat. Elijah caught me, and then hoisted me on his shoulders. Everyone clapped. The pain in my leg disappeared.
Friday, July 4th: The holiday has been special but not just for the fireworks and festivities. Mother packed a picnic lunch and she, Father, and I drove to Pack Square. Before my injury we would have caught the streetcar at the corner, but Father feared the swell of the passengers would be too much for me and my crutches. I’m not ready to attempt a public outing with my artificial
“We want Dr. Lynch to take a look at your leg,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said. “With so many of our young men coming home from the front with shattered limbs, he tells me progress is being made on artificial devices. We will do what we can to have you fitted with one.”
According to Elijah’s story, I didn’t cry from the pain of the trap, but the kindness of Mrs. Vanderbilt and her daughter sent tears flowing down my cheeks.
Monday, June 30th: I have finished writing those entries that preceded Miss Nettles giving me this journal. I must report that the newspapers are filled with the story of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. I did not know that this past Saturday, June 28, 1919, the very day Miss Nettles presented me this journal, would be of such worldwide significance. Perhaps it is an omen that my own writings will not be insignificant.
Today Dr. Lynch came to our house with what he called an extendable limb. The wooden leg is designed like a telescope. Dr. Lynch showed me how as I grow, the length of the leg can be adjusted. The wood is covered with leather, and more leather can be wrapped around it so that the thickness matches my real leg. Metal braces run on either side of my knee connecting the artificial limb to a sleeve that looks something like my mother’s corset. I lace it around my thigh to keep the top of the leg snug against my stump. Dr. Lynch says that will be the worst part for awhile, because the wound is still tender and the pressure of putting my weight down will be painful. He told the truth. When I tried to take a step, my tender skin felt like it was on fire, and Dr. Lynch caught me as I fell.
“You’re going to have to work hard,” he said. “We’ll take things slowly for the first few weeks. Once the wound has callused, you can concentrate on balance.” He removed the leg and held it up. “I promise you that you’ll have new bounce in your step. This limb came all the way from New York City. The foot is attached to springs, hinges, and rubber gaskets that enable the joint to mimic your ankle. Mrs. Vanderbilt gave strict instructions that I’m to monitor your progress and replace the limb whenever a mechanical improvement is developed or you outgrow it, even if you turn out to be seven feet tall.”
My father came to the door of my room and informed Dr. Lynch that Elijah and a crew of four workmen had arrived. I left the leg on the bed and used my crutches to walk to the back door.
Dr. Lynch pointed to an area of the yard. “Flat and shady would be nice, don’t you think, Henderson?”
“Nice for what?”
“To build parallel handrails. You’ll need a safe place to practice on that leg. That’s the way the veterans learn.”
Within an hour, Elijah and the others had finished what looked like two fences about three feet apart, three feet high, and twenty feet long. Back in the bedroom, Dr. Lynch re-attached the leg, and he and my father carried me to one end of the chute. Without a word, Elijah left his men and stood at the other. He fixed his eyes on me and nodded.
I lifted my weight on each smooth bar and lurched from side to side. Every step was like walking on hot coals the way Miss Nettles said the snake charmers in India do. The twenty feet seemed like a mile.
When I got to the end, my body was drenched in sweat. Elijah caught me, and then hoisted me on his shoulders. Everyone clapped. The pain in my leg disappeared.
Friday, July 4th: The holiday has been special but not just for the fireworks and festivities. Mother packed a picnic lunch and she, Father, and I drove to Pack Square. Before my injury we would have caught the streetcar at the corner, but Father feared the swell of the passengers would be too much for me and my crutches. I’m not ready to attempt a public outing with my artificial
Similar Books
