“They all appear to be healing up nicely,” the doctor was still talking. “Hopefully the bandages can come off in a few days. In fact, I think you can go home today.”
“That’d be nice,” Ellen kept staring at her hands, each finger tightly twisted in cloth. “Could someone call my hand to pick me up? I’d do it but…” She waggled her swaddled hands.
“Of course,” the doctor finally hopped off the edge of the bed. “And just think how much easier dialing will be now the procedure is finished.”
Dialing wasn’t that hard, Ellen thought, frowning. Nor was writing or typing or handling money or using cutlery or any of the other things you said I couldn’t do.
Now there were plenty of things she’d never do again. She’d never spread her fingers in the swimming pool and feel the press of the water on the webbing as she swam. She wouldn’t be able scoop up masses of sweets at the Pick ‘n’ Mix. Her friends would have no reason to call her Frog.
Her stomach gave a sickly wriggle. She’d tell them that it was the anaestetic.