Feel The Pieces

I had the feeling the doctor was a little distracted as he was examining the x-rays and hadn’t immediately realised what he had said aloud. But my mother had heard it. “What?” she somewhat erupted. “Oh!” the doctor must have been taken by surprise. I know I had jumped, even while lying on the bed. “Oh, he hasn’t” he answered very quickly. “He has a few fractures to the side of the head, and the forehead and face, but its…. sort of ….all remained intact.” He quickly explained. ‘Bit like looking at a completed jigsaw.” He added. Then realised that wasn’t any better as a comforting explanation. ‘But all the fractures I am looking at, are very fine. Very, very fine. I don’t think any have even gone through to make a complete break…. Through the bones of his face, that is.” He finished hopefully.

I was lying there listening keenly. Shattered face? Like a jigsaw? I was off on a quick daydream. Touring the world as a special act. What a great title. The ringmaster/ master of ceremonies enters the ring, and loudly announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, (dramatic pause) I present …. The man of a face, of a thousand pieces. ‘The Jigsaw Man,” Then my mother broke the spell.

“So nothing serious to worry about then?” She brought me back to earth. “No,” The doctor assured her. “There’ll be some swelling for a few days and we will have to make sure the swelling goes down and doesn’t develop any infections” The doctor continued positively, “But, I can’t imagine it even leaving any permanent marks or changes.” I was rapidly losing interest in what this doctor had to say. I was going from ‘severely smashed face’ to ‘a bit of swelling’. “So will he be right for school?” My mother immediately added.

What? She had gone from worrying about permanent damage and even possibly impending death of her son, to (in two seconds flat), ‘will he be right for school?’ Obviously demonstrating that enormous flexibility of her mothering instinct. Or, was it because she had to work, and couldn’t have me lying around the house, requiring specialised care…. (Probably the latter). I was lying there on a hospital bed, temporarily ‘blinded’ and likely to require a certain amount of care for a few days, and my mother was not only strapping my schoolbag on my back but basically motioning (if not pushing) me out the door and back to school, where now, the status as hatching spider bringer, nor accident injury victim were even on the horizon as far as raising my school profile. How was I to cope? I couldn’t do much, and probably just lying in bed listening to a radio (since I couldn’t see, the Television was out), would be the total amount of action from me for a few days, until the swelling goes down. Then the doctor would be able to examine the potential gravel (and the ‘etc’) that was under my lids.

(Continued tomorrow)