Empty Hand Revolution

The Bad News

“The worst injury is to your spine, Mr. Zimik. It’s probable the damage to your lung tissue will repair on its own over time. And honestly, the ruptured capillaries that caused your internal hemorrhaging remain mysterious. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Suffice to say, that bleeding led to the awareness of your spinal injury.”

“Which is?” Cosmo sat up in bed with difficulty. He sensed the doctor dancing around the bad news.

“Right. At some point in your past, several of your lumbar vertebrae suffered severe trauma, apparent today by the amount of scar tissue and resultant nerve damage. According to your own account, they miraculously healed on their own.” The doctor frowned, revealing once again he believed very little of Cosmo’s description of recovering from an accident.

He continued. “Despite the appearance of recovery, the scar tissue surrounding the injuries has not healed in the slightest. Quite the opposite. That scar tissue is putting pressure on your spine. To make matters worse, the disks between L3 and L4 and L4 and L5 are both herniated.” The doctor indicated a section of the scan Cosmo held. “Truthfully, I’m shocked you can still walk without tremendous pain.”

“I walked in here easily enough.” Cosmo studied the results of the MRI rather than look the doctor in the eye.

“Another miracle, Mr. Zimik. But given your current nerve damage and the two herniated disks, I recommend immediate surgery.”

“Surgery?” Cosmo’s throat constricted. “What kind of surgery?”

“Without going into too much detail, I strongly recommend placing a series of six pins along each side of your spine to stabilize the region and prevent further nerve damage.”

Cosmo closed his eyes. Nothing about what the doctor was saying seemed either acceptable or possible. Yet he knew it to be true. He also knew the word ‘stabilize’ meant a significant section of his back would no longer move. That meant martial arts would be impossible. “What kind of nerve damage?”

The doctor shrugged. “Paralysis. Remember, Mr. Zimik, I’m surprised you’re not paralyzed already. While I can’t guarantee the surgery will prevent all further nerve damage, it will greatly increase the likelihood.”

“And without the surgery?”

The doctor took the scan from Cosmo and studied it afresh. He cleared his throat. “Based on the scan alone, I’d say you were already paralyzed from the waist down. Given your current condition, I don’t know. At some point, sooner than later, you’ll lose the ability to walk. Maybe six months from now.”

Cosmo pinched his eyes shut. He had already been in the hospital for five days. He didn’t want to stay a moment longer. He didn’t have the money to pay the bills he’d already racked up, much less for complex surgery.

If he left the building, perhaps he could leave the knowledge of his injuries as well. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe everything would be fine. After several seconds of silence, Cosmo addressed the doctor without opening his eyes. “Can I leave now?”

The doctor gasped, but quickly recovered. “I see.” He ran his hand through his neatly combed hair. “I cannot in good conscious let you go today.”

Cosmo wanted to argue.

“But,” the doctor continued, “If you permit me to administer a pain and inflammation relieving injection into your spine, by tomorrow morning you should be in decent enough shape to be released with the aid of a wheelchair.” He paused. “And attempt to enjoy the mobility you’ve got left.”

Cosmo stared at the wall. “Fine. Let’s do that.”

After the doctor left the room, Cosmo counted to sixty before unplugging himself. He swung his legs off the bed and stood. The effort made his head spin. Gritting his teeth, he walked awkwardly to the door and braced himself against the jam.

His left leg pinched and seized each time he pulled it forward, causing him to drag it lamely. His right leg worked well enough. The pain was tolerable. He addressed the empty hallway. “I think I’ll check myself out, without the aid of a wheelchair.”

With a final deep breath, he limped down the hall and didn’t look back.