CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The doctor came in that afternoon. He took many bomb pieces from my legs, and, with the knife, searched for other pieces. Luckily, he was using a special medicine that took away the feeling in my legs, so there was no pain. However, he decided that an X-ray would be necessary, so he sewed me up and ordered the nurse to have me taken downstairs the following morning.

The next day they took me to another hospital and had my legs put under the X-ray machine. The doctor there was very friendly. He saw the inside of my legs and told me it was pretty bad. He hoped that I had shot a lot of Austrians. I lied and told him I had.

Later, that afternoon, I got to see the X-ray pictures of my legs, myself. Catherine brought them to me. The doctor was right. There was a lot of metal in there. However, I was less interested in the pictures than I was in having sex with Catherine again. Unfortunately, she only had time to show me the pictures and then left.

The day was very hot, and I felt bored and frustrated lying in bed. Three doctors came into the room. One of them was the doctor who had treated me the day before. I guessed that he was not a very good doctor. After all, he needed an X-ray done to finish the job. That meant that the other two doctors were probably equally as bad, for bad doctors like to keep each other company.

They had my bandages removed. Looking down, I could see that my legs looked less like chopped meat and more like legs today.

"Try to move your knee. Can you bend it?" asked the doctor with the beard.

"No."

"Can you try, we need to test it!" They took hold of my leg and bent it for me. A pain shot through my body and I cried out for them not to move it any further.

They then took a look at my X-ray photos. The bearded doctor said that he would recommend waiting half a year to operate. The other doctors agreed with him right away. I did not, however.

"That's too long! I can't imagine why I should have to wait six months."

"If you don't wait, you may lose your knee."

"So what? I don't care about my knee."

The man who treated me the day before assured the other doctors that I was not serious. He told them that I was an excellent soldier who was possibly to receive a medal. The bearded doctor then came over to me.

"Calm down, I understand it's a long time to wait, but it would be unsafe to operate sooner than six months. I'm not willing to risk losing your knee."

"OK, then, I'll accept your advice. Thank you very much."

They went away, and I called the doctor who had treated me before back into the room.

"That doctor with the beard is too low in rank. I won't let him operate on me. I want someone else to come and look at my legs," I said.

"Dr Barella is a good doctor!"

"Then why is he still ranked so low? No, I want somebody better to come and give his opinion about my legs."

"High rank doesn't necessarily mean excellence. However, if you insist, I will ask the surgeon from the hospital where you had your X-ray to come."

"Thanks. I can't wait six months."

"It wouldn't be as bad as you think. You wouldn't just lie in bed the whole time. You'd exercise some. And you would be taken outside so that your legs could get some sun."

"I just can't wait six months."

"Fine. I'll have Dr Valentini visit you later today."

When Dr Valentini did come, he looked me over very carefully. As he did so, he talked to me the whole time in a friendly, funny way. I could see from his decorations that he was ranked very high. He was a major, in fact. He saw Catherine come in to say 'Hello' to me, and after she left, told me how proud he was that I had such a beautiful girlfriend. I offered him a drink of my wine and he gladly accepted it. I liked him. And I liked him even more when he told me that my leg could be operated on the following morning.

(end of section)