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~ author D. S. Cooper

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Tag Archives: Amputee

I, Amputee

01 Friday Jul 2016

Posted by Doug in I, amputee

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Amputee, Disability

Luckiest Day

All I had to do was push the throttle forward and pull back on the stick, and none of this would have happened.

That’s why my eyes glaze over whenever someone tries to sooth the reality of life-changing injuries with some mystical nonsense like, “Everything happens for a reason.” In my case, I know the reason; I didn’t add power and pull back on the stick  when the glare of the late afternoon sun got in my eyes, and a gust of wind pushed my right wingtip into the trees at the little grass airstrip where I was landing my airplane.

Also, you might have heard it said that shock always numbs the pain immediately after a traumatic injury. This too, I can report, is bunk. I was dazed and confused after the nose of the airplane augured into the ground, and I might have been content to take a little nap right there, except for the pain, which was immediate and intense. I couldn’t move or see my legs, both of which were still attached, although they had been thrown out the window next to my seat when I was turned sideways by the impact, with my seatbelt still fastened. In fact, the only limb I could move was my left arm, which I used to grab my cell phone and call my friend Mike, who lived at the far end of the runway.

By then the greatest volunteer fireman in the world had arrived, willing to sit on the wing of a crashed airplane in a pool of 100 octane avgas and talk to me while keeping some traction on my legs. The rest of the Berkley Fire and Police departments were not far behind, and with some technical advice about airplane structures from Mike, they soon had me out and strapped to a backboard, just as the Med Flight helicopter was landing to whisk me away.

“How are you doing?” the flight paramedic asked.

“I want drugs.”

This, from  non-drinker who hesitates to take anti-histamines because of the side effects.

I have to admit that I got a little nervous when I heard the Med Flight crew passing their assessment of my injuries to the ER on the radio, but that was also when I managed to close my eyes and do some deep breathing. I was in good hands.

The ER crew at Massachusetts General Hospital was playing the Top Gun Anthem on the stereo when the Med Flight guys wheeled me in. Maybe they always do that for the helicopter crews, but it actually made me laugh, considering how I got into this mess. They told me that I had multiple compound fractures of both legs, and a severely dislocated right shoulder. Then they asked me at least a dozen times if my head or chest hurt, as if they ought to.

Of course I couldn’t see what the orthopedic team was doing when they came in and hovered around my legs, but I soon realized that they were re-arranging the bones into a semblance of alignment. So I did my best to sound nonchalant when I asked, “Hey Doc, will I walk again?”

“I think so,” the surgeon replied.

 

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On Dynamite Mountain

17 Thursday Sep 2015

Posted by Doug in D. S. Cooper Books, This Writer's Life

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Tags

Amazon Kindle, Amputee, Appalachian Folklore, Carson Long Military Academy, Ghosts, The Old Cadet, Writing

A brief excerpt from my second novel, The Old Cadet

They had not ventured far off the trail and into the forest when Derek stopped and pointed at the ground.

“Try not to step on it. This is one of the oldest living things on Earth.”

Lulu bent down and took a closer look at the vines.

“Blueberries?”

“No,” Derek said with a hint of reverence, “this is a box huckleberry plant.”

“Explain, please.”

“All this is one plant,” Derek pointed to low vines spread among the trees in the distance. “The box huckleberry reproduces by spreading roots and cloning itself. Individual trees and bushes come and go, but these same vines might have been clinging to this hillside for a thousand years. Maybe more.”

“And why does some mountain man care about these scraggly vines?”

“I have no idea why. But, find the box huckleberry, and you might see boomer.”

Lulu stood up. Then she turned and yelled, “Boomer! Boomer! Come out and talk to me!”

“I told you,” Derek laughed as her words echoed down the hillside. “He’s deaf.”

She gave Derek an exasperated look and bent down to grasp a sprig of the plant.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You may believe in folklore. I do not. I want to have this plant identified by an expert.”

“I’m serious. That really is one of the oldest living things on Earth. I wouldn’t take it.”

“You’re not one to talk,” she said as she broke off a few inches of vine. “You murder innocent animals for trophies.”

“I have a covenant with the animals. You haven’t spent enough time in the wilderness to understand it.”

“I have a master’s degree in electrical engineering, Mister Yeager,” Liu Chen said as she as she tucked the sprig into her collar. “Please don’t tell me what I don’t understand.”

“Fine,” Derek said, walking back to the trail. “Suit yourself.”

When they reached the trail, they took off running uphill again.

“So,” Lulu asked as they ran, “what is the other thing Boomer cares for?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Why not now?”

“You’re too smart for me, Lulu.”

They stopped at the clearing on the top of Dynamite long enough to look back at the town of New Manor and the Ethan North campus. The spire of the chapel, the roof of Founders Hall, and the crown of the bell tower were below them among the trees. Then Derek led Lulu down the path on the backside of the mountain, which took them to the abandoned farmhouse and down to the covered bridge across Sherman’s Creek.

There was not much traffic on the back road. They walked into the shadows inside the bridge and examined the beams of the ancient structure. The sun shone through the gaps between the barn-board sheathing and illuminated the interior in pinstripes of light.

“Let’s take a break down here,” Derek suggested and led her to the grassy bank under the bridge. They sat against the stone underpinnings of the bridge, and he took apples and bottles of water from his rucksack.

“There are two things I wish to tell you, Derek.”

“Shoot.”

“First, there is … was … a man in my life.”

“Good for you,” Derek bit into his apple.

“Secondly, Jonathan was very happy at Ethan North. He loved the school.”

“Good for him.”

When a car came by, the timbers of the roadway over their heads rattled and rang in succession like the keys of a giant xylophone.

“Now, what brought you to Ethan North, Mister Derek Yeager?”

“Things weren’t so great at home,” Derek shrugged.

“You were happier here?”

“I was. It was like growing up with one hundred and sixty equally screwed-up brothers, Lulu.”

“That’s exactly what Jonathan told me,” she laid back on the grassy bank and ate her apple. “Except that he omitted the screwed-up part.”

Amelia Dupont photo, by permission

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