This Month's Story

(Originally published in 2003)

The thumb that Henry sewed up healed very well; I’m using it today. However, it was only a few years after he tried to cut off my thump that I had an opportunity to use Henry’s medical services again.

It came about because of our two large dogs.

I had tried to put Heron outside and keep Gretal inside - she was in heat. Gretal didn’t agree with this arrangement and, knocking me to the ground, she tried to get out to join Heron. I was unhappy about this and let Gretal know that I was. For a few moments there was a lot of noise and arguing, but I managed to convince her that I was right.

When everything settled down, I looked at the hand that I had used to brace myself with when I was thrown to the ground. It was starting to throb. I found both joints in my right index finger were badly dislocated from the fall. Not only were they sticking the finger at odd angles, the finger was swelling very rapidly.

The dogs had a large water bowl near me on the floor. I filled the bowl with ice and water, put the finger in it to get the swelling and pain down. This took a bit, but finally, both seemed to have subdued sufficiently so I could proceed further. Bracing myself as best I could, I very carefully straightened the dislocations. Then, gasping from the pain and effort, I sat down.

Stella came in just as I sat down. She evidently had not had a great day. She wanted to know why Heron was outside, why was Gretal howling in the garage and finally, what was the dirty dog dish doing on the counter? I looked at her and raised my finger for her to see.

“I hurt my finger,” I said. However, the ice had taken the swelling down and, after my pulling the joints straight, the finger looked normal. She looked at the finger without touching it.

“So?”

I felt a little foolish holding my finger in the air and pulled it back down to my lap.

“I’m serious, Stella. I broke it.”

“If you really broke it, Paul, go see a doctor,” she said exasperatingly and turned away and started putting her packages away. Of course, when she put it that way, there was only one thing to do. I refused to go see a doctor, and it was very quiet around the house the rest of the day.

The next morning, I woke up with the finger throbbing. I put on a pair of clean white shorts and despite it being only six in the morning, walked up the street to ring the bell at Henry’s door. When he opened it, he was in his pajamas.

I explained about my finger and the two of us walked around the back to his brick patio and sat down on Bobby Ruth’s filigree wrought iron chairs. They were as uncomfortable in my thin white shorts as they looked. I was pleased with the knowledge that the dew must be going right through Henry’s thinner pajamas and that he was probably more uncomfortable than me.

“Paul,” he said, looking at my finger, “How did you do this?”

“I fell.”

“Stella push you?”

“No, why should she push me?”

“Do you want some coffee? I have to look something up and it may take some time”

I said okay, and he went inside, brought out a cup of tepid instant coffee, and then went back in. I drank some of the terrible coffee and waited, still uncomfortable. I realized, Henry had outwitted me and had left me sitting alone on Bobby Ruth’s wet wrought iron chairs. After a few minutes, he came out and sitting beside me, began probing my finger again. I gave a yelp; he ignored me. He kept comparing it to the same finger on the other hand and shaking his head.

“Paul, you’ve broken this finger. It’s broken pretty bad. Very bad, in fact. You are going to have to see a doctor.”

“Henry, listen to me carefully. I know it’s broken. I also know it’s broken very bad. What I don’t know is what happened to the doctor that used to live here.”

“Well, the doctor who now lives here specializes in chain saw injuries. What I’m looking at here is something more sophisticated, something someone, although you won’t admit it, probably Stella, has done with a blunt instrument. This is out of my league. I’m going to give you the name of a friend in Gulfport who is an expert at fixing these kind of injuries. Call him up as soon as you can and have him look at this. Tell him I sent you and he’ll fix you right up.”

“You’re sending me to another doctor? I am not paying you for this, Henry.”

“I knew that when you came. That’s why I’m sending you to another doctor, a more expensive doctor.”

The new doctor put springs and steel pins on my hand and finger and finally after several months, it healed. Gretal got pregnant. Henry quit general practice and became a psychiatrist. Shortly after he and Bobby Ruth moved to Bay St. Louis.

Although I see him socially and he has asked me to stop by his office “and just visit,” I have not seen him professionally since.