Chapter 5

 

Abby was frantic.  How in the world had she gotten herself into this mess to begin with?

It was all Steve's fault.  That guy just had a way of pushing her buttons.  She should never had agreed to this bet.  Was she crazy?

Steve was on his recliner again--big stupid grin on his face--watching Abby scurry this way and that as she tried to get out of the house in time to make it to Steve's appointment on time. 

Abby had been determined to make it.  Sure, this was only a practice run.  But what would happen to her confidence on the real day if she couldn't even make it on time for the practice run. 

"Take it easy babe, you're gonna trip and break an arm or something.  Then you're gonna need a cast for real."  Steve was going to get a shoe thrown at him.

"Instead of sitting there watching me like a big doofus, why don't you do something to help me?"  Abby was breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Like what?" came Steve's response.

"Like, I don't know, take the garbage out or something?"

"See, that's your problem Abby.  You don't know how to prioritize. How could taking out the garbage possibly help you get me to my appointment on time?"

Abby was busy wiping down the kitchen counters with a sponge.  "Well, I just hate to go out while the house is a mess.  Then we have to come home to a messy house.  I never wanted you to have to come home to a messy house."

"Oh, so you're doing this for me?"  Steve asked through his big, stupid grin.

Abby stopped and looked at him.  She cocked her head sideways and grinned.  "Yeah," she said, "I'm doing this for you."

Steve pulled himself to his feet and hopped over to Abby.  They embraced and Steve kissed her.  "Thanks babe.  I appreciate it.  It's that kind of sentiment that's gonna make you end up in a cast for a couple of weeks."

Abby playfully hit Steve on his upper arm.  "You creep!  Get in the car."

With that, Steve hopped back to his chair, grabbed his crutches leaning against the wall and made his way to the garage.

Abby put the finishing touches on her straightening and glanced at her watch. 

3:45

Steve's appointment was for 4:00.  The doctor's office was 10 minutes away.  Plenty of time.  Abby knew she could do it.

 

Steve was laughing a laugh to equal that of Santa Claus's. 

It was now 4:02 and they were still at least 5 minutes away from the doctor's office. 

Abby was not enjoying the levity at all, but Steve just couldn't help himself.

"It's not funny."  Abby pouted.

"Yes it is.  You're the one who decided to take the parkway to get there.  You could have made it in time by taking back roads."

"Well, the parkway is normally faster."  Abby retorted.

"Not today!"  Steve laughed.

They were just creeping past the remains of a fender bender in the left lane.

Abby said, "If this happens on the real day, it doesn't count if I'm late because of a traffic jam."

Steve's smile vanished.  "Yes it does."

Abby's eye browse furrowed and she looked over at Steve.  "No it doesn’t.  I can't help it if we hit an unexpected traffic jam."

Steve thought for a minute.  If he allowed this kind of contingency to be forgivable, almost anything could be argued on to the list.  Better to nip this idea in the bud from the get go. 

"Abby, this is really quite simple.  If we get to that appointment late for any reason," he paused and then continued, "any reason at all…you lose.  We can't be making exceptions, we'd end up arguing over whether or not something is or isn't an exception."

Abby stared forward through the windshield of the car.  Her hands were clenching the steering wheel at the 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock positions.  Her knuckles were white.  She didn't say a word.

Steve went on, "even if I got nasty and changed the time on all the clocks in the house to make you think it was earlier than it was, you'd still lose.  This is up to you.  Now, of course I wouldn't do that.  I'll behave exactly as I always do, but if we're late, you lose."

Abby relaxed.  It looked to Steve like she was surrendering to the inevitable.  She sighed out the breath she had apparently been holding and said, "okay, okay.  I'll just have to get us to the doctor an hour early that day."

Steve smiled, "babe, we can go first thing in the morning and wait it out for the entire day if you want.

"Of course, it would be a cold day in hell before you'd do that, I'm sure."

"We'll see, we'll see."  Abby replied as she pulled into the parking lot of the doctors office and found a parking spot.

 

Steve was not even asked to sit in the waiting room.  The receptionist had him go right into the casting room and sit on the fiberglass bucket seat against one of the walls.  This chair was higher than a normal chair.  More like a bar stool.  His casted leg hung down from the chair and dangled about ten inches from the ground.  There was a bucket of water on wheels next to the chair.  Abby sat herself in a regular seat a few feet away. 

Before long, the door swung open and Peter walked in.  He had Steve's chart with him and smiled a very nice smile at both Steve and Abby. 

"So, how are you folks doing?"  Peter asked in that French Canadian accent of his.

"Great!" answered Steve.

"Fine," said Abby.

Peter glanced at the chart and rifled through a few pages.  "You ready to start putting some weight on that leg of yours?"

"You bet!"  Steve smiled at his little joke.

"So, are you two still planning to go ahead with this little bet of yours?"  Peter asked as he was looking through a supplies drawer.

"Yeah sure," Steve quickly responded.

Abby's answer came a bit slower, "I guess so," she growled.

"How did your practice run go today?"  Peter pulled a cast heel from the drawer.

Steve broke out in a big grin, "It went exactly as expected."

"Why don't you cast his mouth while you're at it?"  Abby asked Peter.

Peter smiled, "I guess you were late today."

Peter pulled a roll of 2" glow-in-the-dark fiberglass from a box and pulled his little wheeled stool over to where Steve was sitting.

"I took some time to put together a list for you.  It will be for pulling an injury or two from a hat to determine what kind of cast Abby will be getting."  Peter reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  He handed it to Abby and went to work on Steve's leg.  "Abby, why don't you read it to us as I tape this heel to Steve's cast."

Abby unfolded the paper and began reading.

"One, Metatarsal Fracture, Slipper cast.   What's that?"  Abby had no idea what she'd just read. 

Peter explained, "a metatarsal is a bone in your foot, a slipper cast is not much more than a shoe.  If you get one of those, you will hardly know you're even casted."

"I'll hope for a metatarsal fracture then.  Two, avulsion fracture of the ankle, short leg cast."  Abby pause momentarily to think about that one.  "I know what a short leg cast is, but what's an avulsion fracture?"

"That's when a piece of bone sort of chips away from the larger bone.  You know when you get a cut on your skin which results in a skin flap that can be lifted up and put back in place?  An avulsion fracture is similar to that."  Peter opened the package of casting tape and dipped the roll of fiberglass into the bucket of water next to Steve's leg.

Abby continued, "three, fractured fibula, short leg walking cast.  That's the smaller of the two bones in the lower leg, right?"

Peter said, "yes, that's right.  It is actually not a weight bearing bone and doctors will often not even cast such an injury.  The tibia acts as a splint for the fractured fibula and thus does not need the stability offered by a cast.  If a cast is used, it is often more for pain management than for immobilization."

Despite herself, Abby was finding this little lesson in orthopedics rather fascinating.  She continued down the list, "four, fractured tibia, long leg cast.  Five, fractured femur, single hip spica.  What the heck is that?"

"The femur is the large bone between your hip and knee…"

"I know what the femur is, what's a single hip spica?"

"Oh," Peter said, "that is a cast that goes from the toes of the fractured leg, all the way up to your armpits and back down the other leg to just above your knee.  It's really a body cast.  There is also a stick that goes from the ankle of the long leg cast to the knee of the short side.  That is for stability.  This sort of cast is usually only used on children with stable fractures of the femur.  Adults will have surgery for such an injury."

Peter was just completing the job of wrapping the roll of fiberglass around the bottom of Steve's casted leg.  Abby noticed that the cast heel was sticking out the bottom of the cast and that the new layer of fiberglass held it firmly in place.

Abby looked at Steve, "you wouldn't want me to wear that kind of cast, would you?"  Just the thought of it made her neck hair stand up on end.

Steve replied, "I don't know, I never thought about it.  I guess I always pictured you in some kind of arm or leg cast.  It will have to depend on what you pick out of the hat."

Abby hesitated.  She went back to the list.  "Six, scaphoid fracture, short arm thumb spica."  Abby and Steve both waited for Peter to explain that one.

"That's one of the small bones in the wrist.  It's treated with a thumb cast.  Often does not show up on x-rays."

Abby went back to the list.  "Seven, wrist fracture, short arm cast.  Eight, fractured radius, long arm cast.  Nine, Colles fracture, long arm cast with wrist in supponation.  That one needs explanation."

Peter had just removed the rubber gloves from his hands.  He grabbed his left wrist between his right thumb and forefinger.  "When the radius is fractured clean through right up against the wrist, we cast the entire arm, from armpit to first knuckles.  The wrist is pushed forward and down to sort of pull the fracture apart.  If that is not done, the bones will sometimes be pulled past each other by the muscles of the arm and the fracture will not heal properly."

Steve said, "sounds like a weird position to be casted in."

Peter answered, "it is.  It makes it difficult to hold things and use the casted arm at all."

Abby continued, "ten, stable fracture of the humorous, hanging arm cast."  Abby considered that one.  "I think I've seen that kind of cast before.  A kid in school had a cast that went from her wrist to her armpit.  The sling was tied to a loop made out of plaster at the top of the wrist area and hung from her neck."

Peter said, "yes, the weight of the cast in the elbow area will provide traction on the fracture, pulling down the upper arm."

"Eleven, unstable fracture of the humorous, single shoulder spica.  There's that spica word again, what is that?"

"Spica means it wraps around a joint like the thumb, shoulder or hip.  That cast has the arm casted from first knuckles, all the way up the arm, down the body to just above the hips."  Peter explained.

Abby finished reading the list, noting many different variations on similar casts.  There were leg casts with the knee bent at different angles, leg casts with the knee straight, leg casts with the ankle at odd angles.  Long leg casts that could be walked on.  There was a hand cast that included all four fingers, some that left one finger free, some that left two fingers free.  There were body casts and casts that went up around the head.  There was something called a Minerva jacket that made Abby determine that she would win this bet if it killed her.  All in all, this list was a sobering experience for Abby and added a reality check to "the bet" that hadn't been there before.

"Are we really going to go through with this Steve?"

Steve was trying out the new walking heel.  He stopped and looked up at Abby.  "Babe…a bets a bet right?  Didn't we always say we would stand by our word to each other?  You can still win this you know.  Just think about all those chores I'll be doing and breakfasts in bed you'll get if you win."

Abby didn't feel reassured.  "Okay, okay."

Peter was making a note in the chart.  "Make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out for the cast removal day.  Go easy on that leg Steve.  If it pains you, use the crutches.  Don't be a hero."

Steve and Abby walked out of the room, together, Steve carrying his crutches in one hand and holding Abby's hand in his other. 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

As the days rolled into weeks, Steve was able to walk on his leg more and more.  At first, he had ignored Peter's advice to take it easy.  He walked on his casted leg all day until he was limping so much he looked like Quasimoto from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.  Still, he considered it a form of surrender to use his crutches.  He even refused to put them in the car when he went out of the house, condemning himself to limp and swell, whether he wanted to or not.

He'd come home in the afternoon and finally plop into his reclining chair, elevate his foot and enjoy the feeling of the feeling coming back to his toes.  By this time of day, his foot would be so swollen that there was no play whatsoever inside the cast.

Now though, with two weeks to go of this interminable experience, Steve was able to move about freely all day without any pain or discomfort.  He'd been wearing this short leg cast for three weeks now, one week without weight bearing and two weeks with the walking heal.  It was beginning to look rather grungy.  He could also feel the cotton padding inside the cast starting to lose its softness.  If he wiggled his foot, there was a little bit of play in there.  Steve realized that he didn't like the feeling of having play in the cast.  It was a little disconcerting to know that the ankle was supposed to be immobilized, yet he could move it around enough to feel like the cast wasn't doing its job.  He wondered if this was something he should ask Doctor Coates or Peter about.  On the other hand, maybe he would just keep his mouth shut and get through this.  Then the fun would begin.

Steve thought again about the bet.  Abby had been trying hard these past few weeks to be punctual.  There was some improvement, but nothing to give Steve any cause for concern.  He had to force himself to remember what chain of events led up to the terms and conditions of this bet.  It had to do with Abby not being sympathetic enough to Steve's being hobbled by that stupid full leg cast for months on end.  Yes, that was it.  Steve's blood started to boil again.

 

She acted like Steve should be helping around the house like he always did.  Taking out the garbage.  Emptying the dishwasher.  Vacuuming.  Was she nuts?  Abby was absolutely clueless about how it feels to have almost 25% of your body rock hard and heavy.  That's right.  Steve wanted Abby to know what this felt like.  How else was he going to get her to understand?  So when Abby opened the door, Steve marched right on in.  Oh, she would lose the bet alright.  Steve hoped Abby would get a full leg cast just like the one he had.  The bummer of this whole thing was that, no matter what cast Abby ended up in, she would only have to wear the thing for two weeks.  That simply wasn't enough time for her to understand the plight of a casted person.  Well, maybe there could be some way around that as well.  Steve would just have to wait and see.

 

 

          "Hey babe."  Abby said as she came into the kitchen. 

          Steve, who had been leaning back on the kitchen chair, balancing the thing on the two rear legs, almost fell backward when he heard Abby's greeting.  His arms flailed out in front of him and he grabbed the kitchen table at the last possible second before tumbling heal over head to the kitchen floor. 

Abby let out a giggle when she saw Steve pull himself safely to all four chair legs. 

Smiling, she said, rather ruefully, "what were you thinking about?"  Abby knew Steve very well.  If she was able to startle him like that, he had to be thinking about something to do with her.  She would probably have to get very playful to get it out of him too.

"Nothing."  Steve lied.

"Uh huh."  Abby replied, "and you expect me to let it drop just like that?"

"Not really.  I'll tell you exactly what I was thinking about."

Abby was a tad surprised that Steve was ready to give it up so easily.  Now she was really curious.

"What?"  She asked.

"I was thinking about you and the bet."

"Oh, that."  Yuck.  As the day drew closer, Abby was becoming more and more despondent.  She was beginning to picture herself covered with all sorts of casts.  Ever since she read that list that Peter had put together, the reality of this bet she made was keeping her up at night.  "You still insist on going through with it, huh?"

"Yeah sure.  Why the heck not.  You need this Abby."

"Steve, regardless of what you might think, I am not in need of a cast."

"That's not what I mean.  You need something to teach you how to be on time.  This threat of being casted seems to be more incentive for you than anything else we could have thought of.  I honestly believe that a death threat would have less of an impact than the thought of being casted has for you."

"You're probably right.  So if you know how concerned I am about it, why do you insist on going through with it?"

"You wanna go see a movie?"

Abby must have missed something.  She said, "did I miss something?  Where was the segue there?" 

"The segue was that I don't want to rehash a conversation that we've had six times in the past three weeks.  You're gonna go through with this bet, and however it works out, we're both going to see it through to the end.  Now, how 'bout that movie?"

"How 'bout bowling."  Abby said sarcastically.

"You're on!"

Oops.  Abby didn't expect Steve to go for that.  Can someone bowl with a cast on his leg?

"Serious?" She asked, "can you bowl?"

Steve shrugged, "I don't know.  Let's go find out."

 

This they did.  It really wasn't much of a big deal.  They actually had a good time.  Apparently it wasn't the first time the bowling alley had a casted person bowl there.  They handed Steve one shoe without a comment.  They thought Steve was joking when he asked for a 50% discount on the shoe rental since he'd only be using one shoe.  Steve didn't push the issue.

Steve got a chuckle at the attention he was attracting.  Some people are so bold.  Especially kids.  One kid, about ten years old, stood there and watched Steve bowl four frames until his mother finally came and dragged him away.  Steve heard her mumbling something about how rude it is to stare.

One man walked right up to Steve and said, "I gotta hand it to you buddy, when I had a broken leg, you wouldn't have seen me at the bowling alley, no way."

As the man walked away, Steve wondered why not.  It seemed natural enough. 

 

Upon reflection, Steve realized that with this walking cast on his ankle, he was able to do almost everything he could do before breaking his leg.  He could ride a bike, walk around, drive, make love.  About the only thing the cast keeps him from doing is running.  Trying to run in a cast is like trying to walk with two five year old kids holding on to your leg.  While you can walk with a normal gate, as soon as you try for any kind of speed, the cast seems to anchor you down to the ground.  It's quite a strange feeling.

 

Steve's last two weeks in the cast were the worst of all.  Not because of pain or discomfort.  In fact, it was the lack of pain and discomfort that made it so bad.  Steve was sure that his leg was heeled and he could not understand why he was still in the cast.  The thing was completely gross too.  It was filthy.  The fabric by his toes was fraying.  Pieces of cotton were sticking out.  The cast had even gotten a little soft on the bottom from all the walking. 

The day could not come soon enough.  Steve would have to make it through one more day of teaching.  School would let out at 3 O'clock, giving Steve and Abby plenty of time to make it to Steve's 4:30 appointment for the wonderful, liberating experience of having this damn cast taken off Steve's foot once and for all.  Thirteen weeks in fiberglass prison was quite enough for Steve.  Soon, Steve hoped, it would be Abby's turn.  Then she would understand.

 

Travis MacKenzie watched his teacher leave the classroom for the last time in his cast.  It had been a great three months.  Travis had gotten to look at a cast every school day for the whole time.  Sometimes the cast was even the subject of class discussions.  Other kids would ask about the cast.  They'd speak so freely about it too.  Like it was no big deal.  Travis, of course, would never mention the cast at all.  He didn't want anybody to suspect how he felt.  That would be a disaster.  A kid his age didn't need people thinking he was weird. 

Sometime, Travis thought, Mister D. would glance over at him and catch him staring at the cast.  But Mister D. was cool.  He wouldn't say anything even if he did suspect something.

Travis let the rest of the class file out of the room and he scooped up his books.  Before he reached the door, Mister D. hobbled back into the room and blocked the doorway, putting himself directly between Travis and the door.

"Hey Travis, I'm getting my cast off this afternoon."

Travis swallowed, "I know."

"I thought you might enjoy one more look at it before it goes away forever."

Travis felt his face go from red to white and back to red again.

"Casts are cool, aren't they?"  Mister D. asked.

"I guess."  Travis had no idea what to say or do.  There was no way this conversation could have been predicted or expected. 

"Ever have one yourself?"

"No."

"Ah, I thought not.  Well, let me tell you something.  Wearing a cast is a pretty cool thing, but only if you have to.  And you only have to wear a cast if you have a bad enough injury to need one.  And that part I wouldn't wish on anybody.  The pain that I went through from this broken leg was not worth it.  I would never do anything like this again if I had any say in the matter."

Why did teachers have to know so much?

"Um.  Thanks Mister D. and good luck with your leg.  I hope it feels okay."

Travis sidled around his teacher and scurried on down the hall.  How in the world did Mister Devero know that Travis had wanted a cast for so long that he would imagine ways to break a bone just so he could get a cast?

 

Abby was waiting for Steve by the car.  She looked at her watch.  2:55PM.  No problem.  There was plenty of time for them to get home, change clothes and get Steve to his 4:30 appointment.  Abby was shooting for 4:00.  With the doctors office being less than fifteen minutes from the house, Abby figured if they leave the house at 3:45, they'd get to the doctor's office at 4:00 leaving them 30 minutes to sit in the waiting room.  During that time, Abby would gloat and rub it in and describe all the wonderful things Steve would be doing for her and around the house while fulfilling his part of the agreement.  Yep, this was going to be a no brainer.

 

3:30PM.  Abby was humming to herself as she wiped off the kitchen counters.  Steve was in his traditional spot on his reclining chair.  He was smiling as he watched Abby.  He had to admit,  it looked pretty grim for his side of the bet.  Abby was ready to go.  She was even finding busy work for herself.

"Did you want to leave now?  Just to be sure?"  Steve asked.  He'd pretty much surrendered to the notion that Abby was going to win.  Steve wasn't put off by all the housework he'd have to do.  After three months of inactivity, it sounded like a breath of fresh air to do something useful in the place. 

"No, that's okay.  I don't want to be there too early."  Abby said confidently.

Steve watched as she sprinkle cleanser into the kitchen sink and put the final touches on the kitchen.  Then she sat down at the kitchen table and routed through the mail.

 

3:40PM.  The alarm clock in the bedroom began chirping. 

Abby looked at Steve.  "Time to go babe."  She headed for the bedroom to turn off the alarm.

"Okay."  Steve got up out of the recliner and started for the door.

"Have you seen my purse?"  Abby asked as Steve was opening the door to the garage.

"Actually, no."  What was this?  A glimmer of hope?  Abby hated to leave the house without certain things.  Her purse was one of them.  She would turn the place upside down looking for it.

"You go get in the car, I'm going to look for it.  And if it turns out you hid it to make me late, the bet is off, so if you did, say so now!"

"Wasn't me."  And it wasn't!

Steve climbed into the car.  He sat there for a few minutes before looking down at the spot between the driver's seat and passenger's seat.  When he saw Abby's purse sitting in that spot, he immediately went for the car horn and began blowing it.

 

Abby hated it when Steve honked the car horn.  He always did that when they were late getting somewhere.  It was one of her sore spots and she certainly didn't need to hear it now.  She'd checked the kitchen, the bedroom, the family room.

The horn sounded again.

She looked in the front entryway and the bathroom. 

Once again, the horn came from the garage.  Abby's heart missed a beat.

The clock in the kitchen read 3:47PM.  Still plenty of time.

HONK! HONK!

Damn.  Why does he keep honking the stupid horn.

She started checking less likely places now.  The back porch off the kitchen.  She slid the sliding doors open.  She hadn't been back there, why would the purse be there?  This is Steve's work.  Good!  That will kill the bet and she'll be off the hook.

HONK! 

That did it. Abby slammed the sliding door shut!  Then she slammed it again, because the force of the slam the first time made the door bounce open again. 

She clicked the lock in place and marched with a purpose to the garage.

She pulled the heavy garage door open, stuck her head out and yelled, "Why do you do that, I hate it when you do that!?"

Half way through the sentence she noticed her handbag pressed up against Steve's window with Steve's stupid grin behind it. 

Oh.  That's right.  She'd left her handbag in the car so she wouldn't have to find it when it came time to go.  Typical.

Abby checked her watch.  3:53PM.  Still fine.  No problem.

She climbed into the driver's seat.  Took a deep breath and turned the ignition key.

Chapter 7

 

 

The engine turned over and the car started.  It was, after all, a Honda.

Abby whispered to herself, "okay, okay, good.  We're on a roll."

She pulled out of the garage and headed to the doctor's office.

"Which way should I go?"  There were two choices.  Abby could take the highway, a quicker and usually more reliable way, but if there were any problems, there's no way out.  She'd be trapped there, like the last time, stuck in endless traffic just waiting for the next exit (escape) ramp. 

The other choice was back roads.  If Abby kept to the back roads, there were plenty of off shoots and side streets to give her a way around any mishap that may arise.

"Don't ask me," Steve said, "I'm not giving you any ammunition for getting out of this bet.  You'd listen to me and then hit traffic and want out because I made the choice.  Sorry honey, you're on your own."

Abby looked at the dashboard clock and then at Steve and said, "Steve, it's only 3:58, we have more than a half hour.  We could walk to the place and still get there on time.  I can't believe you're still holding on to the hope that you might win this bet." 

Steve shrugged, "okay, fine, so I suggest you take the highway."

Abby thought about that.  "Okay, I'll take back roads."

And she did.  She followed the boulevard straight on passed the entrance to the highway and headed for the doctor's office and a win on the bet. 

 

 

The ride was relatively uneventful for the rest of the way.  Abby navigated construction area's, speed traps, heavily congested traffic signals, even a high school sporting event ending with a traffic cop directing the flow of cars. 

Steve wiggled his toes.  It was going to feel so good to be out of this thing and able to walk normally again. 

Now he wiggled his ankle.  There was a lot of play in this cast.  His leg feels so much smaller than it had been.  Steve wondered how long it would take to get back to normal. 

Many people had offered all sorts of advise and warnings:  "Oh, your leg is gonna be so gross when they take the cast off;" "you won't be able to put weight on your foot for weeks,"  "You'll be back on crutches after the cast comes off,"  "You hate the cast now, but you'll wish you had it back a day or two after they take it off."

Steve didn't care, as long as the cast was gone.  He'd find out for himself in about 10 minutes anyway."

"Uh oh."  Abby's comment broke Steve from his musings.

"What?"  Steve asked.

"There's a cop coming up behind me and his lights are flashing."

"Is he pulling you over?"

"I don't know yet, he may go around me."

Abby began pulling to the side of the road.

"Damn, he's following me.  What the heck?  Why is he pulling me over?"  Abby said, the first sounds of panic entering her voice.

Steve couldn't help himself.  His head went back against the headrest, his laugh filling the car.  He said, "well, it just goes to show you, it's not over 'till the fat lady sings."

"That's right, it's not over.  The fat lady has not sung."

 

Abby finished pulling the car over and looked for her purse.  She stole a glance at the clock.  4:22pm.  They could almost see the doctor's office from here.  If this cop could be reasoned with, they could still make it.

She pulled her driver's license, automobile registration and insurance card out of her purse and turned to the side view mirror to watch the police officer approach.

He was still sitting in his car doing something.  What was he waiting for.

"Come on, come on," Abby muttered under her breath.  What was this guy doing?

Finally, the cop got out of his car and began approaching Abby's car. 

Abby rolled down her window as he came near.

Before he even reached the car, she held out the pile of papers and said, "Here's my paperwork sir."

The cop took the papers and began looking them over.

"Officer, do you mind if I ask why you pulled me over?"

He ignored her as he perused the license and registration.

Abby went on, "Officer, I have a really big favor to ask you."  Abby paused, waiting to see if the guy would even look at her.

He did.  He looked up from her papers and waited.

"Officer, my husband and I have a bet."  Abby paused for effect.  Waiting to see if the cop would even change his facial expression.  He didn't. 

"You see, I'm a chronic late person.  My husband, the guy with the cast on his leg," Abby pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, "made a bet with me that I couldn't get him to his doctor's appointment on time.  I killed myself to get him there on time.  We're six minutes from his appointment time and two minutes from the office.  I can still make it."  Abby gave the cop the best 'puppy dog eyes' she could manage. 

The cop finally showed some interest.  "What happens if you lose?"

Abby almost shook with relief, he was listening, he was interested, she answered, "I have to wear a cast on my arm or leg for at least two weeks if I lose.  The later I am, the bigger the cast."

"What if you win?"

"My husband has to do the chores and serve me breakfast in bed for two months."

"Breakfast in bed?"  Steve interjected; he probably didn't remember that part, since Abby just appended it to the terms.

"Yep."  Abby said confidently.

The cop smiled.  He didn't even seem to think about it.  He looked at Abby's license.  "Mrs. Devero, you crossed over the center line a little ways back.  It's not the world's worst offense.  Let me run a check on your license and if everything is copasetic, I'll even escort you to the doctor's office myself to make sure you get there on time."

The wave of relief that flooded through Abby's system felt like it could have cured cancer or something.  That was a close one.  Abby looked at the clock.  4:25pm.  Still okay.

She watched in her mirror as the cop fiddled around in his car.  The digital clock in the dashboard clicked over to 4:27pm.

They could still make it.  Abby said to Steve, "Will it still count if I get you to the door at 4:30?"

Steve smiled a reassuring smile.  "Sure," he said.

The cop was getting out of his car. 

He moved rapidly to come alongside Abby's door, he reached down and grabbed the handle and opened the door.  "Step out of the car ma'am."

What was this?  "What's the problem?"  Abby's voice cracked as she asked.

"Just step out of the car ma'am."

Abby did as instructed.  As soon as she was out of the car, the cop turned her by the waste so she was facing the car.  He grabbed her left hand, pulled it around behind her back and Abby felt something cold clicking around her wrist.  Then her right hand was going behind her back and being shackled to the left one.

The world was spinning.  What was this?  What was going on?  Abby was just handcuffed.  Why?  What did she do?  This was nuts.

The cop was saying things.  Abby didn't hear.

Steve was leaning over, looking up from the passenger seat.  "What's going on?" He asked.

The cop looked down at Steve.  "Just relax sir.  And remain in the car."

Abby's panic subsided.  The heck with the bet, she was being arrested.  What in the world was going on?

"Officer, I demand to know what this is all about."  Abby was in attack mode now. 

"A routine check on your license returned an outstanding warrant for your arrest.  I don't know what it's about, but you'll have to come with me."  He looked in at Steve, "can you drive sir?"

Steve hesitated, then said, "I guess so.  Where are you taking my wife?"

"She'll have to come down to the station with me sir.  You may meet us there."

Abby felt tears coming to her eyes.  This couldn't be happening. 

The cop led her to his car and helped her into the back seat.

He climbed into the front of the car and started saying something in his radio.

Abby didn't focus on what was being said.  The world started spinning again.  Time dissipated.  What was time? 

Abby looked around the back of the police car.  There was a thick grate between her and the front of the car.  She pulled against the handcuffs.  They were tight.  She couldn't pull her hands around in front of her.  She'd never been handcuffed before.  It was a strange feeling. 

The cop continued to talk back and forth on his radio.

Tears were streaming down Abby's face now.  She wiped her eyes on her shoulders.  She wondered if she would wake up soon.  How could she make herself awaken?  Did pinching oneself help?  Abby tried to find a piece of skin to pinch, but her hands were shackled facing away from each other, palms out, and she couldn't turn her hands to grab any skin. 

But this wasn't a dream, was it?  It was actually happening.  Surely there must be some mistake.  Abby wasn't a criminal.  Honest citizens don't get handcuffed and thrown in the backs of police cars.  Abby couldn't remember being a criminal.  She tried to recall robbing a bank or something, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn't summon up the memory of committing a felony. 

Abby sniffled.

She shook her head and finally found her voice.  "Officer, I'm sorry, but I think you've made a mistake."

The cop made some sort of closing comment into his microphone and got out of the car.  He opened Abby's door and grabbed her under her armpit, helping her out of the car and to her feet.

Abby heard keys jingling and as the cop was working behind her, presumably unlocking the handcuffs, he said, "actually ma'am, you're correct.  There was a mistake.  I radioed in your name and license number for a second check.  When headquarters returned a clean record, I ran the first computer check again, the one on your license, and it came back clean.  I don't know why the first run returned an outstanding warrant, but it was apparently a glitch in the system.  That's why we run double checks.  I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, you're free to go."

Abby stared at the cop.  She swallowed hard.  She started to say something, but her throat was so dry that nothing came out.

The cop just stared at her.  She watched him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his sunglasses.  "You're free to go," he said again.

Abby wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.  She sniffled and said, "Officer, your little snafu just cost me this bet.  I'm going to spend weeks on end in a cast because of you.  I think you should speak to my husband and explain this whole thing to him."

The cop stared momentarily.  He said, "I'd be glad to ma'am."  With that, he turned and headed toward the car.

 

Steve had worked himself into the driver's seat. 

He noticed in the side view mirror that the cop was walking over.  He also noticed that Abby was walking a couple of paces behind the cop.

When the cop got to the window, he bent his knees, lowering himself even with the window and said, "sir, I have to apologize for the mix-up.  It turns out there is no warrant out on your wife.  You two are free to go.  She asked me to speak to you about this bet the two of you have.  I imagine she would like for you to disregard the time this whole incident took when considering who will win your bet."

Steve didn't know what to say.  He finally squeaked out, "okay."

With that, the cop nodded, stood up and made his way back to his car.

Abby pulled the door open and waited as Steve sidled back to the passenger seat.

Abby climbed in, closed the door and stared out the front window without saying a word.  Finally, after a long pause, she put her head into her hands, palms over her eyes and began sobbing.  Steve felt terrible as he saw her body shaking with the sobs.  He leaned over her and put his arm around her.

"It's okay," he said, "it's over.  It was just a mistake.  Relax babe.  It's over."

Steve looked at the clock in the dashboard.  4:41pm.

 

 

Chapter 8

The revving of the cast saw was deafening in the little cubicle.  Steve was sitting on a gurney, his casted leg resting on the gurney and his other leg hanging over the side. 

Peter had hardly said two words to them since he entered the little room just a few moments ago.  After the obligatory greetings, he silently positioned Steve on the gurney and pulled the cast saw from the bottom shelf of a cabinet.

As abruptly as Peter had turned the cast saw on, he shut it off again.

"Before I proceed with your cast removal, isn't there something you'd like to tell me?"

Steve glanced over at Abby.  Her eyes were still swollen and her face was blotchy red from the crying.  She was obviously still upset. 

"Let's get on with business first Peter," Steve said, "get me out of this thing and then we'll talk."

"As you wish," responded Peter in that French Canadian accent of his.

Once again the cast saw sprung to life and the room was filled with the high pitched buzzing noise that probably scares children more than the blades to.  Adult are a different story.  Adults know enough to disregard the noise in favor of being cut by the blade. 

Steve knew, of course, that the blade could not hurt him.  This was all reviewed when Steve's full leg cast had been taken off.  In fact, he recalled that Peter had pressed the vibrating blade firmly against his hand to prove it.  Abby had jumped when Peter did that, but Steve got through the experience unscathed.  Peter did point out that the blade tended to get hot while sawing through a cast, so the person doing the cutting had to be careful not to burn the patient by the hot blade.  "It just requires a little patience," he'd said, "I'll take it a little slower than the saw is capable of and you'll be fine."

Steve watched as Peter turned his ankle outward and started sawing by the toes on the inside of the foot area.

With a rocking motion, Peter dug in to the cast, pulled back, moved along the cast and dug in again.  Some dust particles floated into the air as Peter progressed.

 

Abby watched as Peter sawed Steve's cast open.  She was still trying to get a grip on herself.  She kept telling herself that it was all a big mistake.  She'd done nothing wrong.  She reminded herself that being handcuffed and jammed into the back of a police cruiser was an experience someone like her was not likely to have…ever.  She would file it away as a special time.  A memory to share with friends, at parties.  It would be one of the greatest ice breakers ever.  "I was once the victim of a false arrest.  They handcuffed me and everything.  That's it.  With that attitude, Abby could get past this incident and think of it the way one remembers the terror of an exam that they had to pass and finally did pass.

Sure, it made them late.  Just another problem in a long line of problems that cause Abby to be late, but Steve had agreed to forego the terms of the bet for this incident.  Didn't he?  The cop had asked him too and Steve said "okay."  Wasn't that an agreement?

As far as Abby was concerned, all bets were off.  She would not press Steve on his part of the agreement, and he would not press her on her side. 

Then an idea struck Abby.  She would agree to wear a small, nothing little cast on her arm for a few days.  Just to show that she was a good sport.  Surely that would satisfy Steve.  Abby could get through that.  Maybe Peter could put a cast on her left arm…just a little thing…and cut it open before they even left the office.  That way Abby could take the cast off herself in a few days.  Yes.  That would work.  As soon as the conversation moved around to that topic, Abby would present her glorious idea at compromise.  Isn't that, after all, what marriage was all about?  Compromise.

 

Peter turned Steve's leg around to the other side and began cutting that side open.  Already the smell was reaching Steve.  Yuck.  How did Peter endure this kind of odor day in and day out? 

Peter looked at Steve's face and must have noticed the grimace.  He shrugged and said, "you get used to it," answering Steve's unspoken question.

Then Peter yelled above the noise, "I noticed you folks were late?  How late were you?"  His question was followed by a smile.

Steve looked at Abby.  She had no expression on her face.  Obviously she was waiting to hear what Steve would say.

"Fifteen minutes," offered Steve.

Peter's eye browse went up, "wow, that's late.  What happened?"

Steve had to force back a smile, "let's just say that Abby had a slight brush with the law."

Peter's face issued an expression of curiosity

Steve glanced over at Abby.  She smiled back at him.  Good.  That meant she had worked things out.  Steve was always amazed at the way his wife could take a bad experience and file it away as something other than horrible. 

She had once gotten pregnant, and after only 5 weeks, she lost the baby.  The two of them were heartbroken.  After a few days of grieving, Abby was back to her old self again.  When Steve asked her what had happened, why her attitude had abruptly changed, she said simply, "hey, I decided to be happy knowing that we can get pregnant, not unhappy knowing that I lost the baby." 

Steve marveled at his wife's resilience.

Her reaction to Steve's announcement indicated to Steve that she had already figured out how to file the arrest experience away.  He would have to ask her about that later on.

The room was suddenly quiet as Peter shut off the cast saw.  He reached behind him, into the cabinet and pulled out a tool of some sort.  It looked like a pair of pliers.  Then Steve remembered.  That tool was for spreading the cast open. 

Peter wedged the tip of the cast spreader into the crack along Steve's cast and squeezed the handle.  The cast made a snapping noise and fell open.  Peter then took a pair of medical scissors and began cutting the padding underneath.  In no time at all, Steve was a free man.

Peter said, "now, don't expect to be running any marathons or anything.  In fact, you can expect a great deal of discomfort for the next few weeks until your muscles have had a chance to get used to being used again."

Steve had heard all that before.  He would have to see for himself what it was all about.

Peter went on, "so, what the agreement again?  How many injuries will Abby be required to pick out of the hat?"

Steve looked up at the ceiling as if the answer were somehow written in the pattern of the drop ceiling tiles. 

He looked over at Abby and read nothing on her face.  She was obviously waiting for him to make the announcement.  That announcement, of course, was that Abby didn't lose the bet.  Circumstances beyond her control had contributed to her lateness and therefore, the bet was null and void.  At the very least, it had to be postponed.

Steve, however, did not hold to that theory.  There were plenty of times that Abby was late due to "Circumstances beyond her control."  And Steve could recall that the terms of the bet were "no matter what," weren't they?  At the very least, the bet didn't allow for any "outs."  Therefore, if no "outs" were mentioned, no "outs" existed.

Steve realized he was putting together his side of the argument that was surely about to ensue.  His next statement was going to start it up.

"Six!" he said.

"Six?" snapped Abby, "six what?"

"Six injuries," Steve replied.

Abby's eyes narrowed.  "Wait a minute mister.  You told that cop that you wouldn't hold me to the bet."

Steve said, "Well, what would you have said?  'Sorry officer, a bet's a bet.'  Come on Abby, I was almost as shaken up as you were."

"You have no idea how shaken up I was."  Her voice was stern and emotional. 

Steve continued, "Abby, a bet's a bet.  It's always been that way with us.  This is just another in a long line of excuses you have for being late.  Granted, this one wasn't your fault, but fully half of your excuses aren't your fault.  Do you remember making this bet with the stipulation that if we were late, it had to be your fault?"

 

Abby felt cornered.  Steve was technically right.  They really hadn't had any specifics.  It was a simple bet, if late, she loses.  But surely there had to be some allowance for the crazy circumstances in this case.

Abby challenged, "Steve, we were going to be on time and you know it.  How could you possibly hold me to this knowing what happened?"

"It's just your dumb luck Abby.  Maybe we were ahead of schedule, but just like the traffic jam the last time, interference counts.  If it makes you feel any better, I'll admit that we would have been on time if it hadn't been for the cop stopping you.  But we weren't on time and you lose."

Abby figured it was time to play her last card.

She said, "how 'bout this…I'll wear a cast for a few days…just to get an idea of what it's like.  Isn't that why you wanted this anyway?  Maybe a cast on my forearm…how would that be?"

In the corner of her eye, Abby could see Peter's head going back and forth between her and Steve.  She glanced over at him and could tell he was thoroughly enjoying this exchange.

Steve answered, "That's a bit much Abby.  But I already made a concession for you."

"Oh yeah?  And what was that?"

"Well, the original agreement was that you'd have to pick one injury for every minute late.  I'm counting the first ten minutes as one, so that's nine injuries you don't have to pick."

Peter interrupted, "that will probably make the difference between a full body cast and only limbs being casted.  The odds of winding up casted from head to toe with fifteen injuries are way up there.  You'd almost surely end up in a full body cast."

Abby swallowed hard.  "Really?  Oh my goodness.  I couldn't handle that."

"That's why I counted the first ten minutes as one and then added five for the balance of the fifteen minutes we were late," Steve said.

Abby looked from Steve to Peter and back again.  She knew they had her.  Steve could hold her to the full extent of the agreement but he was willing to give--quite a bit, in fact.  He cut her from fifteen injuries to six.  Less than half. 

Abby waited another moment, playing an internal chess game as she considered all the possible moves.  She was, unfortunately, out of ideas.

Abby surrendered.

"Okay!" she finally said.

"Great!" exclaimed Peter.  "I'm all set for this."

Abby looked at Steve and rolled her eyes.  "You'd better take good care of me, you."

Steve smiled, "I will.  I promise."

 

Steve watched as Peter, giddy with excitement, reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a pile of small strips of paper.

"I took the liberty of cutting up the list.  I figured you could choose an injury and then flip a coin to decide if it's a left or right limb."

Steve laughed.  Peter was really into this.  Abby probably would have laughed too, if she weren't so apprehensive.

"Peter, have you done this before?" Steve asked.

"No, but I hope to do it again.  This is fun."

Steve laughed again.  This time Abby allowed a grin.  Maybe she was getting into the spirit of this after all.

Steve said to Abby, "Oh, come on babe, just enjoy it.  You always knew it would turn out this way."

"I knew no such thing," Abby said with incredulity.  "But I suppose I may as well try to enjoy myself, as long as you're going to force me into this anyway."

"Now that's my girl."

"Don't patronize me!" Abby got in one last jab.

Peter was busy emptying the contents of a glass container onto the countertop.  Suddenly there were cotton balls all over the place and Peter was dropping the slips of paper into the container.

Peter held the container out to Abby and said, "sorry to hear about all your troubles ma'am, let's see if we can figure out what you've done to yourself."

Abby glared at Peter and reached up into the container to grab her first slip of paper.

 

Chapter 9

 

Steve felt a strange sensation in his groin as he watched Abby unfold the small slip of paper.  She glanced at him as she was doing it and said "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Steve smiled and winked at her.

He loved his wife.  She was the best.  What a good sport she was being about this.

He did win the bet fare and square, didn't he?  Well, as far as Abby knows he did.  Steve was pleased that Abby didn't press the issue.  She could have made a huge scene.  Fussed and debated with him.  Steve wasn't sure how far he'd go with the argument.  If she'd really pushed it, he might have relented.  But Abby apparently worked the whole thing out on her own and decided to go along with the game.

That was fine with Steve.  He was really starting to look forward to seeing Abby in a cast.  He wondered if he would find her sexy in a cast.

Abby read the writing on the slip of paper, "fractured tib/fib," she said.

Steve knew immediately what that was.  "That was my injury!" he shouted and pointed toward his newly freed foot.

Abby winced.  "wow, so it looks like I'm gonna have a cast like yours, huh?"

Peter interjected, "Why don't you pull out all the injuries, determine whether they are left or right limb and after you're finished, we'll see what the final outcome is."

Steve shrugged, that was okay with him.

Abby thought about it a moment, "Okay," she said, "this is kinda fun."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," said Steve.

Abby reached into the container for another slip of paper.

"Wait, we don't know which leg you broke."  Peter said as he was standing up.

Peter began fishing through his pockets for something. 

He pulled out a coin.  Steve could see that it was a quarter.

"Who will flip the coin?" Peter asked.

"Oh, can I do that?" Steve asked, looking at Abby and holding his hand out to Peter.

Abby nodded and Peter dropped the quarter into Steve's hand.

Steve felt that sensation in his groin again as he flipped the coin into the air with his thumb.  It flipped over itself numerous times as it rose and fell. 

The quarter landed on Steve's open palm and he closed his fingers around it to hold it there.  He then flipped the coin onto the back of his other hand and looked at the results.

"Wait a minute," Abby blurted out, "which is left and which is right?"

"You call it," said Steve.

"Okay, heads it's left and tails it's right."

"Heads it is!" said Steve.

"Ouch," said Abby, "so I just broke my left leg."  She made a shivering motion.

 

Abby tried to imagine what it would be like to have her leg in a cast.  She wiggled her toes, trying to hold her ankle and knee motionless.  Involuntarily, she moved her leg into a position matching that of the cast Steve had a few months ago.  Her ankle assumed a 90 degree position and her knee was bent at less than 45 degrees.  She glanced up at Steve and could tell that he'd caught her at her musings.  He was grinning that stupid grin of his.

Abby shrugged and said, "I'm just trying to imagine what it will be like."

"You won't have to imagine much longer babe," Steve said with a grin.

"I guess not," she answered, "let's get on with this."

Abby reached into the jar a second time.

She read the slip she had chosen, "fractured metatarsal."

What was that?  Abby tried to remember what a metatarsal was.  She furrowed her eyebrows and looked to Steve, who had a confused look as well, and then to Peter.

Peter seemed to avoid Abby's gaze.  He told Steve, "flip the coin."

"Oh yeah," Steve said.

Steve flipped the coin.  It came up heads again.

"Well, that's another left fracture.  But I don't know if it's an arm or leg."  Abby said.

She paused and decided Peter wasn't going to volunteer any information.

Abby reached into the jar and selected her third injury.

"Fractured patella," were the words she read off of this sheet.

"What's that?  Is that the nose?" Abby asked Peter.  He was wearing a poker face.  "How do you cast the nose?"

Peter's poker face became slightly confused looking.  He pointed to Steve's hand.

Steve flipped the coin and yielded yet another head.

Peter shook his head.  His eyebrows furrowed and he said, "Hmm, this is strange.  Keep going."

Abby was wondering why Peter had reacted that way.  In her mind, she could see a cast on her left leg, her left arm and her face.  She glanced down at the second slip of paper again and tried to figure out what a metatarsal was.  Then it came to her.  It's a finger!  She had broken a bone in her finger.  That meant a splint, didn't it?  Would Peter use a cast on her hand instead of a splint, since the whole point of the bet was to get her casted, not splinted?  And what about this patella?  She was sure that had something to do with the face or mouth or something.  How did casts apply up there?  Suddenly, the answer came to her!  With a broken nose, and a cast being required, Peter was going to try to put her whole head in a cast.  No way!  NO WAY!  She simply wouldn't allow it.  That's insane.  Abby couldn't remember ever seeing anybody's head in a cast.  Well, maybe on TV.  But always in comedies.  They don't do that sort of thing for real, do they?

"Babe?" Steve voice broke through her musings.  "You gonna pick some more injuries?  You're only half done."

"I don't want my head to be casted though.  I won't do it."

Peter finally helped a bit, "don't worry, there's nothing in the jar that has to do with the head Abby.  You're okay."

Relief flooded through Abby system like a drink of strong whiskey.  Phew.  That was pretty nerve racking.  She still didn't know what the patella was, but at least it wasn't her face.

Abby reached for her fourth injury.

"Colles fracture."  Another one!  This is crazy, she thought to herself.  How come I don't recognize any of these injuries.  So far I only know for sure that I'm gonna be wearing a cast on my left leg.  She decided to voice her concern.

Abby said to Steve, "Do you have any idea what some of these are?"

"I'm only sure about the first one.  The other three are a mystery to me."

"Me too."  She looked at Peter.  "Any help Pete?"

Peter was making a wheeling motion with his hand and said, "keep going.  What side will the colles fracture be on?"

Steve flipped the coin.

"Tails," he said.  "And it's about time we got a right side injury."

Peter said, "Yeah, I was beginning to wonder if that coin was a two headed coin.  Pick another slip Abby."

Abby did so.  She read, "Scaphoid fracture."  Again, she looked from Steve to Peter and back again.  "I vaguely remember that one from your list, but I still can't remember if it's arm or leg."

This time Steve flipped the coin without prompting.  "Heads!" He said.

"Okay, one more."  Peter was impatient.

Abby looked at him quizzically.

"I'm sorry, I have to get to my next patient.  This is taking too long."

"Oh, sorry," Abby said as she grabbed her last slip of paper.

"Torn rotator cuff," Abby read.  "Ouch!" She said as she touched her left hand to her right shoulder.  "I know what a torn rotator cuff is."

Steve was looking at the coin he had just flipped.  "Head's again," he said.  "That's five heads and one tail.  What are the odds of that?"

Abby switched from her right shoulder to her left.

"Okay folks, this will surely be fun."  Peter said as he was leaving the room.  "I'll call you to make the arrangements."

"You're not doing this now?!" Steve called after the exiting lab coat.

Peter's head poked back into the room.  "NO!  They can't know about this at the office.  I'll come to your house.  I'll call you tonight.  Bye!" and he was gone.

Abby looked at Steve and Steve looked at Abby.  "So, how many casts am I going to be wearing and what kind?"

Steve lifted his shoulders and showed his open palms in the universal gesture for lack of knowledge and said, "Honey, I have no idea."

With that, Steve lowered himself off of his gurney, put a little bit of weight on his foot and promptly fell flat on his face.

"Steve!  Are you okay?"  Abby said in a shocked tone.

Steve came up smiling.  "Yeah, but I totally forgot about my foot.  I can't put any weight on it.  Go ask the nurse for a wheelchair so we can get out of here."

Abby obeyed.

She returned momentarily with a wheel chair and Abby and Steve left the doctor's office to head on home.

Abby's mind was filled with thoughts of immobilized limbs and those thoughts bounce around her body like a mosquito trying to find a place to land.  She was going to have to do some research to find out what some of those injuries were.

 

 

Part II

Chapter 10

 

Abby felt her heart race as soon as she heard the doorbell ring.  Heart palpitations are not a normal reaction for Abby to have to that noise, but this time was different.  Abby knew that it was Peter ringing the doorbell.  When she opened the door, he would be there with his both arms full of boxes filled with casting materials.  Abby's freedom was about to come to an end.

Two weeks had passed since Steve's cast had come off.  Peter had convinced them to wait at least that long before Abby got casted because Steve would not be able to walk very well, if at all, for a while.  Abby had to admit, Peter had been right.

The first day and night after Steve's cast came off hadn't been so bad, but then Steve woke up and tried to put weight on his foot and was met with a face full of carpet for the attempt.  Abby was helping Steve back onto the bed and giggling--it was funny, after all, while Steve was rubbing his ankle and mumbling under his breath.

That was when they knew that Peter had been right.  Waiting would definitely be a good idea.

Of course, Abby was asking for an indefinite stay, while Steve wanted to wait a couple of days.  They had finally settled on two weeks because Peter had insisted that he wouldn't help if they didn't wait at least that long.

The two weeks had passed and Abby had almost gotten to a point where she could stop thinking about being casted. 

The first few days after losing the bet and picking the injuries out of the jar, Abby was obsessed with finding out what lay in store for her.  She knew beyond a doubt that her left leg was going to be in a full leg cast, just like the one Steve had been in.  She was also glad that this cast would cover three, not just one, of the injuries that had befallen her.  At first, she had thought it would only be for two of the injuries…the tib/fib and the metatarsal fractures (after she remembered that metatarsal was in the foot, not the hand.)  But she found out that a fractured pattela was also called a broken knee.  Thus sealing her fate for a cast all the way up her left leg, but at least it wasn't a broken bone in her face, which was her first thought.

That left three injuries for her to figure out.  She had started asking around school for clues, but didn't get far before people started inquiring as to why Abby was asking so many questions about broken bones and casts.  Abby was sufficiently cowed and stopped asking around before obtaining a single helpful answer. 

She had attempted some research in a dictionary she had, but that only yielded the fact that a torn rotator cuff was a shoulder injury. 

This bit of information had started a small war between her and Steve. After discussing the injury with Steve, they realized that if Abby was going to wear a cast for a torn rotator cuff, it must mean she would have a cast on her shoulder.  That meant the cast would have to go down her upper arm and around her upper torso at least. 

"Steve, you can't make me wear a cast like that!" Abby had implored him.

"Hey, I didn't pick the injuries babe," was Steve's glib response.

"But that's too much.  I will be very, very unhappy if I have to wear a cast like that."

Steve was thoughtful for a time and he finally put Abby off, suggesting that they talk about it later. 

Abby, of course, couldn't let it rest.  She allowed a few days to go by, but when Steve failed to raise the subject again, Abby decided to raise it herself.

"I'll leave," was all she said.

"What?" asked Steve.

"If you make me where a cast that includes my upper body, I'll leave you."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "no you wouldn't"

"I will," Abby had been determined to be as serious as she could be about this.  The tone of her voice must have been convincing, because Steve had relented…a bit.

"Wow," he said, "this must really be important to you."

Abby nodded, holding on to the resolve showing in her face.

Steve continued, "it will cost you."

"Name your price."

"I don't know.  I have to think about it."

There was a long pause as Steve and Abby glared at each other.  If this had been a stare contest, then Abby had won.  She had stared Steve down.

Finally, Steve had said, "I don't know what the price should be.  You'll have to wait.  I'll let you bargain your way out of a shoulder cast if you want, but I set the terms of the bargain.  Besides, we're not even one hundred percent sure of what cast a torn rotator cuff gets.  Let's wait to hear what Peter plans to do for that injury before we decide."

"Okay," agreed Abby.

And that was the end of the discussion as well as the research on the injuries.  Abby and Steve had not discussed the bet or casts for the rest of the week.  Two injuries…the Scaphoid fracture and the Colles fracture remained a mystery.

 

 

 

Steve opened the door to a grinning Peter.  Peter was dressed in a non-descript wool jacket and was wearing a dark colored French beret, also made of wool.  At his side he held a shopping bag filled to bursting.  Steve could not tell what was in the bag, but he had a good idea.  He smiled, stepped aside and motioned Peter in.

Steve was impressed with Abby's reception of her executioner.  She approached Peter, reached out to shake his hand and said, "Hi Peter, welcome to our home."  She even managed a smile.

Peter shook hands back and said, "thank you."  He paused, then went on, "I wasn't sure if you'd be happy to see me."

"Oh, I'm happy to see you.  It's not your fault I'm about to become a victim of the WORST ACCIDENT OF MY LIFE."  She paused and put on an evil looking grin, "unless you count marrying this yo-yo," she said, gesturing toward Steve.

"Hey, I'm only a yo…you're the other half of that."  Steve quipped.

Peter interrupted, "shall we begin?"

"What do you want me to do?" asked Abby.

Peter looked around, sizing up the place. 

The entryway to Steve and Abby's house opened to the living room, with the bulk of the room being to the right.  There was a kitchen directly ahead and a formal dining room on the other side of the wall to the left.  Looking at the kitchen from the entryway, it was easy to see a kitchen table and a set of sliding glass doors on the other side of the table. 

Peter made his way toward the kitchen and put his bag of goodies on the kitchen table.

He looked around from that vantage point and came to a decision.

"That reclining chair will serve quite nicely for applying the leg cast."  Peter pointed into the living room at the chair that Steve had used so much during his convalescence.

Steve looked at Abby.  This was the first time they had actual confirmation that Abby would be wearing a leg cast.  They had known for sure the entire two weeks since Abby had chosen her injuries, but to hear Peter speak the words out loud, it brought an ominous feeling to the matter.

Steve saw the apprehension appear on Abby's face.  He walked over to her and took her hand.

"Come on, it'll be fun," he said.

"That's easy for you to say.  Was it fun for you?"

"Not really, but I was in a lot of pain."  He pause, "and I didn't have anyone to wait on me hand and foot."

Abby smiled, appreciating the pun.

"I waited on you," she said with a sidelong glance.

"Not like I'm gonna wait on you babe."

Encouraged, Abby headed into the living room and lowered herself into the reclining chair.

 

 

 

Abby pushed her back against the back of the reclining chair, forcing the leg rest to rise and support her feet.  She watched Peter as he began rummaging through the shopping bag he'd thrown onto the kitchen table.

Peter look over at Abby and seemed to be sizing her up.

"Do you have a pair of short pants or gym shorts you can wear?" he asked.

Abby pushed her feet down again and began lifting herself from the chair.  "I sure do," she said.

Abby headed for the bedroom, brushing up against Steve as she passed. 

While looking through her dresser for a pair of shorts, Abby briefly considered jumping out the window and running away from home.  This was, after all, her last chance.  Perhaps if she took such drastic measures, Steve would understand her desire to NOT go through with this and he'd let her off the hook.

She found the shorts and abandoned all thoughts of escape.  She had lost the bet, fair and square, and now must pay the consequences.  She would take this whole incident as an important object lesson…don't make bets you aren't sure you can win.

Abby finished slipping into the shorts and headed back to her reclining chair.

Peter had emptied his shopping bag and now had an entire assortment of medical paraphernalia displayed all over the kitchen table.

Abby was once again reclined in her chair when Peter picked up a pair of scissors and a box of something called stockinette and headed over to Abby.

Steve followed behind Peter and asked "can I help in any way?"

"Oh yes," said Peter, "I'll be needing your help quite a bit.  Don't go far away."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Steve, "I wouldn't miss this for the world."  He smiled at Abby. 

Abby returned Steve's smile with a half heart grin.  Surprisingly, Abby no longer felt scared, she had sort of pulled away from the situation and was watching from a distance. 

Peter began pulling stockinette from the box and measuring it next to Abby's leg.  When he seemed satisfied that he had a long enough piece, he cut it with the scissors. 

Peter handed the long strip of fabric to Abby and said, "why don't you pull this stockinette up your leg while I go get some more materials."

Abby took the stockinette and slipped her foot into the opening at the end of it.  She pulled and tugged and tugged and pulled the fabric up her leg until it was just above her knee.

Peter returned, looked down at Abby's leg and smiled.  "Oh, you're gonna have to pull it up more than that," he said with a grin, "you keep pulling and I'll tell you when to stop."

Abby was chagrined, but she kept on pulling.  Peter helped by pulling the stockinette on the lower part of Abby's leg while she pulled at the upper part.

Now the stockinette was bunched up way up near Abby's crotch.   She asked, "why does it have to be so high?"

Peter said, "Oh, the cast won't go that high.  I need extra stockinette at the top of the cast to pull down over the finished cast so it won't chaff you."

"Oh, okay," Abby felt a wave of relief at that news.

After the stockinette was well adjusted and properly placed to Peter's satisfaction, Peter said, "okay, now I need for you to lower the chair and sit up straight."

Abby obliged him.

Next, Peter took a roll of rolled up cotton and lowered himself down to the floor in front of Abby's foot.  He took the end of the rolled cotton in his right hand and, holding the full roll in his left hand, he started wrapping it around Abby's ankle. 

Peter made several revolutions and then headed on down to Abby's foot.  "Lift your foot up please," he said as he wrapped the cotton under Abby's foot and up over the top.  He continued on down to the toes and wrapped the cotton out past the toes so they were completely encased in the cotton wrap.

Abby felt a bit of concern.  "Are you going to cast my toes too?" she asked, "won't I be able to wiggle my toes and stuff?"

Peter laughed, "my, my, you do like to jump the gun.  Why don't you let me finish and you will see what I am planning."  Peter paused, then looked up at Abby and said, "After I wrap the cast, I will fold the cast padding back over the end of the cast.  Your toes will be able to wiggle, a little, and there will be a nice soft end to the cast so you don't get dents in your skin from the cast."

Abby felt relief.  She didn't know why.  She was allowing this stranger, well, he was practically a stranger, to put her entire leg in a cast and she was worrying about wiggling her toes.  Talk about the simple ironies of life.

Peter ran out of cast padding and grabbed another one that he had laid right next to himself.  This one was used to wrap the upper part of Abby's lower leg, below her knee.  He seemed to be satisfied with the job and used up the last of that roll of cast padding by wrapping a little bit around Abby's knee.

Peter got up from his squat position and turned to Steve.  "This is where you come in my friend."

"What can I do?" Asked Steve.

"I need for you to put on a pair of gloves and help hold Abby's foot up while I cast it."

Steve walked to the table where Peter's torture chamber accoutrements were waiting.

The two of them donned blue rubber gloves and Peter turned to Abby and said, "moment of truth Abby, pick a color."

Abby was stricken.  She hadn't even thought about that.  Casts could be an assortment of different colors now-a-days, couldn't they?

"What are my choices," she asked.

"I brought mostly white, but the outer layer of the cast can be any color you like.  I have pink, sky blue, dark blue, black, red or yellow.  Oh, and I have something you've probably not seen before.  It's a sort of rainbow color.  Has blue, red, yellow, orange and green in it."

Abby looked at Steve.  Then she came to a decision.  "You decide Steve.  You're the one who has to look at this thing."

Steve said, "cool.  Okay.  Tell ya what, do the cast in white, but leave off the last layer.  I'll tell you at the end what color to put on there."

Peter said, "okay, good thinking.  Let's get started."

Peter grabbed a box from the table and approached Abby.

"This is it Abby.  The time has come.  You have a broken left foot, a broken left leg and a broken knee cap.  That means you get a long leg cast from your toes, all the way up to the top of your leg.  This will have to be a non-weight bearing cast.  For the fractured knee cap, I would cast the leg straight, but since we want no weight bearing because of the foot and tib/fib fractures, I will cast your knee bent at an angle to keep you from walking on the cast."

Abby had to smile.  This was kind of fun.  Peter is playing it like it's a real injury.  Well, okay, Abby could play along too.

Peter continued, "we have to be careful not to let your leg touch the furniture until it is dry.  That will be your job Steve."  Peter nodded to Steve as he said this.

Peter opened a package of casting material and walked over to the kitchen sink.  He ran the roll under running water momentarily and shook the roll out.  "This is four inch fiberglass casting tape.  We will need about eight of these to complete this cast."

Abby watched as Peter approached her with the casting tape in his hands.  He squatted down in front of her foot and pulled the roll open a few inches.

Abby felt the casting tape press up against her cotton wrapped ankle and shut her eyes tightly as Peter made the first revolution, securing the end of the casting tape under itself.

 

Chapter 12

 

Abby couldn't speak.  She knew Steve was willing to give a little on his position and that was good.  That meant she was going to be able to avoid a body cast.  She tried to imagine herself in a "shoulder spica."  With her entire body wrapped in a solid cast all she would be able to do is lie around all day.  What fun would that be?  None! Not for her and not for Steve.  Once again Abby pushed against the cast on her leg.  She wiggled her ankle and knee.  It was a very strange feeling.  She pushed harder.  She could feel the solid surface of the inside of the cast as it restrained her leg.  Would she be able to endure this for two whole weeks?  Abby did a quick calculation in her mind.  This was Friday, October 15^th.  The cast would not be coming off until just before Halloween! 

Abby took another gulp of her drink.  Her head buzzed.  She had taken too much.  She would have to be careful, she wanted to keep her wits about her.

Abby looked over to where Steve was standing.  She found him.  He was smiling at her.  What were they supposed to discuss again?  Oh yes, how to adjust the terms of the bet.

"What do you suggest?" Abby asked Steve.

"Oh no, babe, you first.  What will you give me?" came the reply.

Abby thought about it.  She kept her gaze glued to Steve's. 

Peter had moved around to Abby's right hand side.  He busily pulled together more of his paraphernalia.

As Abby tried to come up with some sort of compromise to offer Steve, she vaguely felt Peter lift her right arm and begin sliding a piece of stockinette over her hand.  When he stopped, she momentarily broke her gaze away from Steve's and looked at her arm.  The Stockinette covered her hand completely and was also somewhat bunched up just short of her elbow.  She realized that they hadn't even talked about what Peter was going to be doing to her right hand.  What was that injury called again?  Abby couldn't recall.  Her thoughts were a jumble.  She had to focus on the important matter at hand.  What could she offer Steve to get him to let her off the hook on the body cast?

Peter took a pair of scissors and cut away the stockinette by her hand.  Now her fingers were poking through.  That was good.  She figured a cast on her arm would at least allow her fingers to stick out.  She felt a little more relief when Peter cut a slit in the stockinette for her thumb and pulled it through.  It looked to Abby as if the cast on her right arm was just going to be a wrist cast.  Well, that was a relief.  She could probably function okay if her right wrist was casted.  She might have a little trouble writing, but she would be able to lift things and do things for herself.  She turned her attention back to Steve.

"Okay, lets see," she began.  "I'm going to be free of this mess on Friday in two weeks.  How 'bout if I wear the casts until Sunday morning instead.  That's a day and a half more than agreed."  There, she'd done it.  Abby had offered a very generous compromise.  She would practically double the time she would be casted.  How could Steve refuse?

Steve laughed out loud.  "Not even close Abby." 

Abby raised her screwdriver to her mouth with her left hand.  Her right hand was busy having itself wrapped in cast padding.  She finished the rest of her drink (more than half had still been in the glass) in a single swallow and handed the glass back to Steve.

"Well, what do you want?" She asked Steve as he took the glass from her.

"Four weeks." 

Abby's eyes went wide.  "Four weeks what?  You want to wear this stuff for four weeks instead of two?"

"No, I want to add four weeks to your time.  Wear the casts for six weeks."  Steve began mixing another screwdriver for Abby.

Peter said, "that's kind of long."

"There, you see," Abby said.  "Thank you Peter."

Steve said, "Peter, let us finish, then you can offer your opinion."

Peter shrugged.  "Steve, come around here and help me with Abby's arm."

Abby took the screwdriver from Steve as he headed around the back of her chair to emerge on the other side.  She tasted the drink.  It was better than the first.  She downed a quarter of the glass on her first swig.

Peter said, "actually, I could use a stool, or something higher than a regular chair."

Steve said, "we have a bar stool in the basement, I'll get it."

Abby watched her husband enter the door that lead to the basement.  As his head bobbled down the stairs and disappeared from view, she turned to Peter, who was a tad blurry, and said, "Peter, you have to side with me on thish one.  Get him to be more reasonable."

Peter said, "I'll do my best Abby, but to tell you the truth, I don't get to do too many shoulder spicas these days and I was kind of looking forward to it."

Abby let her head fall back to the head cushion of her reclining chair.  "It's a conspiracy," she lamented.  She downed another quarter of her screwdriver.

As Steve came back into the room carrying the bar stool, Abby, with her eyes closed and head laying back said, "Okay Steve, how about I wear the cast until that Sunday night?  That means I'll be casted on Halloween though, so we'll have to miss our annual Faculty Costume Party."

Steve let out a puff of breath carried on an amused chuckle.  He didn't answer her as he handed the bar stool to Peter.

Abby felt her arm lifted and her elbow placed upon the stool.  Peter said, "now Steve, if you will kindly hold Abby's arm straight up by grabbing her fingers in your hand.  Make sure the elbow is at about ninety degrees. 

Steve finally answered Abby's suggestion.  "Babe, you lost the bet.  You aren't in a position to bargain.  You picked the injuries out of the jar.  You agreed to the terms before we did anything…"

Abby interrupted, "but we shaid I shouldn't be cashted too long, it could caush problemsh, that'sh why I agreed…" she paused to think about what she wanted to say.  She glanced at Steve's face.  He flickered like a television set with a bad vertical hold.  She rallied her thoughts and continued, "that'sh why I agreed to choosh multiple injuriesh and wear multiple cashtshsh."  Her words were coming out funny.  And now that she was thinking about it, she was starting to feel very light headed.  Drunk.  That was the thought that floated in front of all her other thoughts.  She was drunk!

Abby let her head turn toward her right side.  There was Peter, beginning to wrap her hand in fiberglass.  White.  It was white fiberglass.  She watched as he circled her wrist a few times, brought the roll up her hand, looped over the crook of her thumb, went down around her wrist again, up and over her thumb area, once more around her wrist and then down the arm almost to the elbow.  He worked his way up again, toward Abby's hand and finished off the roll in the area of her wrist. 

Steve said, "Abby, the body cast is the biggest part of this whole thing, maybe six weeks is too long, but you can't get off easy.  I'll offer four weeks, take it or leave it."

Leave it, leave it, leave it, leave it… Steve's words echoed in Abby's mind as they faded.  Abby vaguely felt Peter putting pressure on her right hand and wrist.  He was doing some sort of molding on the cast.

"Let me think--about--it."  Abby had trouble getting the words out.  She did manage, at least, to get one more swallow of her drink before the glass slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. 

She looked again at her right arm.  What was happening?  Peter was sliding the chair away from under her elbow.  Now her arm, casted from fingers to elbow, was floating in mid air.  No wait, that wasn't it.  Steve was holding it up by her fingers.  Oh!  Her arm wasn't floating, it was being held there by her husband.  The rat. 

Peter took the bunched up stockinette and pulled it up over Abby's elbow.  In fact, he unraveled it until it went all the way up to her armpit. 

Abby felt slightly nauseous when Peter took more cast padding and began wrapping her upper arm.  Why was he doing that?  She tried to make sense of the words passing between Steve and Peter.

"You never did tell us what a colles fracture is."  It sounded like Steve's voice.

"It's a fracture of the [unintelligible word] and sometime the [another unintelligible word] near the wrist.  There are several recommended methods of casting this injury.  The long arm cast is normally used with a ninety-degree bend to the elbow and the palm turned down toward the wrist. Depends on the nature of the injury, but I am going for the most common."

"Can we add colored fiberglass to this cast too?"  That was Steve again, Abby was sure of it.

"Yes, we need one more layer on the hand area, I will use the colored roll, when you choose it, for that and one more covering of the entire cast."

Abby felt her cheek being slapped.  "Abby, don't go to sleep yet, you need to decide, shoulder spica or four weeks."

Abby mustered herself for one more moment.  "Four weeksh ish too long, you deshide…"

The world went blissfully silent.

 

"Is she asleep?" Peter asked.

Steve gently patted Abby's cheek.  "Yeah, she's out."

Steve watched as Peter carefully wrapped fiberglass around his wife's elbow and upper arm. 

"Bring her arm in front of her so I have better access to her upper arm," Peter said as he maneuvered Abby's arm to where he wanted it. 

"Oh, look at her wrist, I hadn't noticed that before."  Steve observed when Abby's arm was in front of her.  Her wrist was casted bent slightly forward and the cast also hid all the knuckles closest to her hand.  Steve flexed his fingers, trying to imagine how that would feel.  This arm wasn't going to be of much use to Abby.  She probably won't be able to hold anything in that hand.  Did Peter have a bit of a mean streak in him?  He didn't have to do that, did he?  Oh well, what's done is done.

Peter finished off the roll of fiberglass and pulled down the stockinette and cast padding that was sticking out of the top of the cast so that it lay on the outside of the cast.

"Okay," Peter said, "You need to choose colors now, so I can finish off this cast."

"What are my choices?" Steve was going to have some fun with this.

Peter said, "Oh, I have most of the usual, blue, green, red, black, pink.  I have some unusual choices too.  Johnson and Johnson make some very interesting patterns.  I didn't bring the kind with football team logos on them, but I brought some other interesting choices.  Here, take a look."

Steve looked over the choices.  He saw something that looked like it would make a great arm cast and another for the leg cast.  "This one for the arm and this one for the leg," he said as he pointed out the colors. 

Peter smiled, "good choices.  Hand me that one for the arm and I'll finish this off.  What do you want to do about the shoulder spica question?"

Steve thought about it.  "I'm not sure.  What do you think?"

Peter, without breaking stride, said, "I have an idea…"

 

Chapter 13

 

Steve was beginning to get bored.  Peter was long gone.  Abby was fully casted and Steve had sat there staring at her for the better part of two hours.  He wanted to be there when Abby woke up.  He wasn't sure why that was so important.  It was definitely important that Steve be there for the unveiling, but which reason was most important.  Was it because Abby would need comforting when she noticed the status of her immobility?  Or perhaps Steve just selfishly wanted to see Abby's reaction to the casts that weren't there when she fell asleep. 

Steve was pretty sure Abby was out before the cast on her right arm was finished.  That meant the cast on her right arm, hard as a rock from fingers to armpit, was going to surprise her…Steve had no idea what she remembers of that side. And the left side!  The left side is going to be a complete shock to her system.  The last thing she'll remember is taking a drink with the left hand, but now…Steve wasn't sure she was even going to be able to grab or hold onto anything with her thumb casted the way it was.

Steve had been a little concerned about putting Abby's left arm and entire body in a cast.  Especially with the right arm casted like it was.  He wasn't against letting Abby off the hook on the body cast.  Maybe he was selfish, but he pictured himself doing everything for Abby if she was in a body cast.  She wouldn't even be able to clean herself after using the bathroom.  That's why Peter's idea was such a good one.  It was a viable alternative to the shoulder spica conundrum and left Steve with room to continue the bargaining process with Abby once she awoke.  Abby had fallen asleep before they'd had a chance to really negotiate. 

The last thing she'd said was "you decide…" 

But Steve didn't know what she meant by that.  Did she mean he should decide how much longer she would be casted because she had weaseled out of the shoulder spica cast?  Or did she mean he should decide whether or not she would wear a shoulder spica cast at all? 

That was the big decision Steve had had to make.  He and Peter had gone through the process of wrapping the colored outer layers on Abby's left leg and right arm while Steve considered his alternatives.  He was hoping she'd wake up before they'd finished, but she hadn't.  Even with all the lifting and dropping of her leg and arm, moving the arm back and forth as they wrapped the fiberglass.  Through all of that, she never even stirred.

It had taken two rolls of the Johnson & Johnson casting tape to finish off the leg cast and another roll to finish the arm cast.   During that time, Peter had presented his idea to Steve.  Steve listened and like what he'd heard.  He made his decision based on Peter's idea.

He looked again at Abby's casted right arm.  She was so petit.  The shape of the cast accentuated her lithe, shapely arm so nicely.   It was at her side, resting on the arm of the reclining chair.  With the wrist bent forward as it was, it looked as if she was simply relaxing her arm on the arm of the chair, gravity causing the hand to fall slightly forward as it hung over the inside edge of the chair's arm.

The only thing that broke the spell was the color of the cast.  Steve didn't expect it to be so loud.  When he saw the example color on the outside of the packaging that Peter had brought along, it didn't adequately convey the actual look of the final product.  It was the same case with the leg cast.  Steve certainly chose cast material that would stand out in a crowd.  He had asked Peter afterward if they could be covered up with a different color, but Peter had explained that while a white cast would easily take a colored outer layer, it would take triple the layers to change a colored cast to a different color.  That would make the casts thicker and heavier than they would have to be.  With that much fiberglass on Abby's limbs, it would be intolerably heavy for her.  Peter offered that they could change the casts and start over, but Steve declined.  Abby would just have to accept things the way they ended up. 

That led Steve back to his quandary.  He wanted to be sitting right in front of Abby when she woke up.  He wanted to see her reaction.  What would she think of the colors?  More importantly, what would she think of the combination of casts she would find herself in?  He wanted to be there to comfort her, if she needed comforting.

Abby moaned.

Steve's eyes went wide.  He was sitting on the stool that Peter had used to prop Abby's right arm up on when he did the cast on that arm.  He had moved it around to the other side of the reclining chair that Abby was in and was sitting in front of her.  Now she was stirring.  He leaned closer to his wife. 

"Abby?" Steve said, "are you coming back to me?"

Abby mumbled something unintelligible and turned her head slightly to the right, away from Steve.

Steve began tapping on Abby's leg cast.  "Abby," he said. He made a fist and used his knuckles to wrap on Abby's arm cast a couple of times. 

"NO!" Abby said.  She sounded a little distressed.  She began moving a little bit.  Struggling against the confines of her casts.  Steve could see that she was wiggling her limbs inside their fiberglass prisons.  The casts, of course, held fast.  Not giving even a little.

She called out, "Hey, stop it!" and she seemed to flinch and jump inside the casts.  But she wasn't waking up.  Steve decided she was dreaming.  He smiled as he straightened up.  What does a person who sprouts casts while sleeping dream about?  He could only guess…

 

 

 

Abby looked around the room.  It was a strange vantage point.  It was as if she was suspended from the ceiling looking down on her classroom.  All the children were there.  They seemed to be having a wonderful time.  They were giggling and laughing out loud.  Some of them were pointing up at Abby.  Why was she hanging from the ceiling?

Steve was there too.  He looked up at Abby and smiled. 

He said, "Okay, who's next?"

All the children raised their hands at once and shouted, "I am! I am!"

Steve pointed to one and a little girl, Abby couldn't make out her face, came forward. 

What was he doing now?  What was that, a handkerchief?  Yes, it was a handkerchief.  He was blindfolding the little girl. 

Abby watched, somewhat amused, as Steve turned the girl so that she was facing away from him, brought the handkerchief up to her eyes and secured it in back by tying a knot in it. 

"Can you see anything?" he asked her.

"No," she said.

"Okay, here you go."  Steve handed the little girl a stick and spun her around three times.

She raised the stick and all the other children started yelling at her.

"Not that way!"

"Over here!"

"Turn around, you're going the wrong way!"

The little girl listened to her classmates and changed direction.

Abby watched in horror as the girl began heading in her direction, swinging the stick as hard as she could. 

Abby struggled to get down from where she was hanging.

Now she understood what was happening.  Her class was having some sort of party and SHE was the piñata.  If she didn't get down, she was going to clobbered by that stick!  She wiggled and struggled to get free.  Nothing was happening.  She felt as if she was INSIDE the piñata.  Was this some sort of sick joke?  She did not remember letter her class wrap her in paper maché. 

"NO!" she cried out, but the little girl kept coming.

She swung the stick and hit Abby solidly on the leg.  She swung again and this time struck Abby's arm.

"Hey, stop it!" Abby yelled.  She pushed and struggled but the paper maché was just too strong for her.

"Abby, are you okay?"  Steve called up to her.

"Steve, this isn't funny, get me down!"

 

"Get you down?"  Steve asked, not sure what she meant. 

Abby was still sleeping, but she was definitely dreaming something.   Steve wondered if it had something to do with the casts.  It must, he decided, how could it not?

Steve had to do something to distract himself.  This waiting for Abby to wake up was getting excessively dull.  But if he left her side, he was sure she'd wake up and he'd miss her initial reaction to the casts.  He had to do something to keep her from seeing the casts until he could get to her.

A blindfold!  That was it!  If he blindfolded Abby, she wouldn't be able to see herself until the blindfold came off.  He quickly looked around the room for something to blindfold Abby with. 

Steve got up from the chair and headed for the bedroom.  Abby had scarves hidden away somewhere.  He imagined her waking up and discovering that she was blindfolded in addition to all the casts.  Steve felt wicked.  He snickered to himself.  This just keeps getting better and better. 

He rummaged through her drawers, but found nothing.  The last drawer yielded something interesting though; an Ace bandage.  That would make a perfect blindfold. 

He hurried back to his sleeping wife, so sweetly decked out in all those casts, reclining on the chair with her solid leg propped up in front of her.

Steve moved around behind Abby.

"Abby, are you awake yet?" he asked quietly, this time hoping that she wasn't.  He was really warming up to this blindfold idea and hoped she would stay asleep just a little bit longer. 

She didn't even stir.

Steve unrolled six inches of the Ace bandage and placed it gently in front of Abby's eyes.  He then lifted her head and tilted it slightly forward so that he could wrap the bandage around the back.  He looped from front to back of Abby's head about a half dozen times until he had used up all of the Ace bandage.  He secured the end of the bandage with the clip that comes with it and laid Abby's head back down on the comforter's pillow.

Steve moved around in front of Abby to admire his workmanship.

"This is too good to miss," he mumbled to himself. 

Steve went to the closet and pulled a Polaroid camera down from the top shelf. 

He turned toward his wife, stepped in front of her and looked through the view-finder of the camera.

Steve backed up so that his entire wife was within the frame and he snapped a picture of her.  So he could show her what she looked like before she woke up.  At least, that's what he told himself.

Steve then walked past his wife, stepped down into the family room, sat down on the sofa, picked up the remote control, turned on the television set, and watched the picture in his hand gain sharpness and clarity. 

All he needed to do now was wait for Abby to wake up.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

Steve made an evening of it watching television and eating junk food.  Every commercial break, he took the opportunity to stand over Abby and see if she was stirring.  And every commercial break he was disappointed.  He began to wonder if she was going to sleep through the night. 

She’d been in that chair since the late afternoon.  The last meal she’d had was lunch.  Of course, with all the vodka Steve had pumped into her, he didn’t think hunger was going to be her problem.   More likely, it would be the need to go to the bathroom.  Steve chuckled at the thought of Abby using the little girls’ room.  He would probably have to help her.  Not only get her there, but pull down her pants, sit down and even wipe herself. 

Steve pondered that one for a bit.  With both arms casted, how was Abby supposed to take care of herself in the bathroom?  He had not thought this through.  If Abby’s limbs were really broken, if she had to wear a full leg cast on one leg and both arms were casted, for medical reasons...she would probably want Steve to do everything for her.   She would undoubtedly milk the experience for all it’s worth.  But in this case...in this case, she was going to go even further.  She was probably going to sit around and expect Steve to do even more for her.  Comb her hair, help her apply lipstick, bring the fork up to her mouth (Steve was not sure she could do these things herself even if she wanted to) but he was sure she would not be willing to anyway. 

No, Steve had gotten her into this (at least, that’s how Abby would view the situation) and Steve would pay!  He knew this ahead of time.  But on the other hand...what was she going to do?  Hit him over the head with one of her casts?  This was going to be fun.  Hopefully for Abby too.  Steve had hopes that this whole experience would bring their relationship to a higher level…a better level.

His gaze rested once again on the beautiful blond sitting in the reclining chair.   Looking down at his little angel, all decked out in multi-colored fiberglass, an ace bandage circling her head and fully covering her eyes, Steve felt a tingling sensation in his groin.  He idly wondered if it had something to do with the casts?  Perhaps it was the helplessness of Abby’s situation.  Was he a control freak?  Or was it a bondage thing he’d never known existed?  No, he just loved his wife.  And he was impressed at her willingness to go along with things like this.  It’s one of the things he loved about her.  She was such a fun loving person.  She had such a bubbly personality.  What a great gal.

Abby stirred slightly, just a moan.  Steve hoped this was it.  Maybe she would finally wake up and they could start having some fun.  She turned her head to the right, made some chewing noises with her mouth and then quieted again.

Oh brother.

She was down for the count.  Steve was going to have to go to bed.  He looked at his watch.  It was eleven o'clock.  Bed time.  There normal routine included a shower and a half hour of television in bed, usually Seinfeld.  Steve would begin that process and check on Abby before finally turning in.

He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  Half of her cheek was hidden under the ace bandage.   He had to reconsider the ace bandage now.  Perhaps he could turn off all the lights instead.  Abby would have quite a bit to process when she finally decided to wake up.  The blindfold would just be one more card on the stack.  But would it be the straw that breaks the camel's back?  She had threatened to leave Steve if he made her wear a shoulder spica cast, as was required by the original terms of the bet.  He hadn't taken her seriously of course.  He just wrote the threat off as Abby's way of emphasizing her desire to NOT wear a body cast. 

So now that the casting was complete, would Abby be okay with the final outcome?  Would she revive the threat of leaving Steve?  Steve didn't think so. 

What about the blindfold?  It's not as if it was a cast.  Steve can get it off in a split second.  He shrugged.  Abby would just have to have a sense of humor about all this.  A bet was a bet.  She knew that.  It was one of the foundations of the marriage.  Trust.  They trusted each other's word.  He would remind her of that fact if he had to, but he didn't think he would.

The blindfold stays!

Abby was going to be pissed.  Very pissed.

Steve turned away from his wife and headed for the bedroom.

 

 

 

Abby felt groggy.  She felt as if her arms weighed 200 pounds each.  She didn't try to move.  She just wanted to lie still for a few minutes while she figured out where she was. 

She tried to remember the last coherent thought she'd had before she'd fallen asleep.

That Peter guy was putting her arm in a cast.  Yes, that was it.  She tried to move her right arm.  Yep, it was casted all right.  Just a slight wiggle was enough.  She was unable to move her arm.  She tried her wrist.  That was casted too.  Turning her wrist was impossible.  Her elbow had no give.  So this was what it felt like to have a cast on your arm.  She'd certainly seen enough arm casts in her lifetime.  As a teacher, she got to see children in arm casts often.  If she'd ever wondered what that felt like, she had her answer. 

A wiggle of her left leg confirmed that it hadn't been a dream.  The big cast, from her toes to her crotch was obviously still there.  No movement.  No give at all.  Rock solid. 

Abby wondered what time it was. 

It was time to open her eyes.  Up until this time, she hadn't moved her head at all.  Her eyes had been closed in denial of her predicament.  To actually see the casts was to acknowledge their existence.  But the limitations on her movement were all she needed as confirmation.  So, she would have to face it eventually.  Now was the time.

She opened her eyes. 

Something was wrong.

Abby tried to blink.  There was resistance. 

She lifted her head from the recliner's pillow and tried again.

Nope.  No good.  There was definitely something covering her eyes.

A rag perhaps?

Had Steve placed something over her eyes?

She tried to reach up to it with her right arm, but the cast resisted her attempt.

Next she tried her left hand.

Another problem.

Something was dreadfully wrong.

She pulled again.  This time working at the elbow of her left arm.

Son-of-a….

Now Abby felt a new emotion.  Panic!

Abby was going to panic.

She pulled with all her might to bring her left hand to her face, but there was no give at all.

What the heck was going on here?

Abby brought her casted right arm over to the left side.  She was able to make contact with her left hand.  She felt the fiberglass encasing it.  The fingers of her left hand were free.  But the thumb was not.

The fingers of her right hand and those of her left felt each other briefly.  The panic abated ever so slightly.

She tried to feel her thumb.  It was surrounded by cast.  She wiggled it.  Nothing.  It was solidly casted.  Well, she'd expected that, no surprise there.

She moved her casted right hand further along the cast on her left arm.  When she came to her elbow, bile rose in her throat.  Her elbow was casted.  That's why she couldn’t reach her face.  Those two had casted her left elbow too.

She tried to go further up her left arm, but the cast on her right arm just made her right hand slide off the end of the left elbow and float in empty space.

She tried to move her left arm out toward where the right hand was floating but there was resistance.

It couldn't be.

Her mind had been resisting the thought.  Resisting the possibility that they had done this to her. 

She braced herself.

Slowly and deliberately, Abby moved her casted right arm so that it was hovering over her body. 

After a brief hesitation, she swung her hand down towards her body.

She heard and felt a clunk.

Damn!

She repeated the process.

Clunk!

Damn!

Those sons of…

Now she really tried moving her left arm around.  She made an effort to raise herself to a sitting position.

There was major resistance from the cast on her shoulder and body!

Abby was shaking with rage.

She considered calling out to Steve.

No! 

No!  Not yet. 

She tried again to open her eyes, but was reminded again that something was covering them.

She tried again to reach up to her eyes to remove whatever it was, but was reminded again that neither of her hands could get close enough to her face to take it off.

Abby suddenly felt exhausted.

She let her head drop down to the pillow and began trying to control her breathing.

She had to think.

Every problem is just an opportunity to find a solution.

She was casted on three out of four limbs.  She was body casted.  The body cast held her left arm fixed in position somewhere in front of her. 

She was also blindfolded.  Why was she blindfolded?  Was Steve being cruel?  Hmm. 

There was another problem as well.  Abby sensed it.  But she couldn't quite figure out what the other problem was.  She would focus on that later.

The blindfold wasn't cute.  It wasn't funny either.  Steve would know that.  He had to have another reason for putting it on.

Abby considered that.

With a blindfold on, Abby couldn't see any light.  She wouldn't know what time it was or even if it was day or night. 

It had to be night.  Steve was probably sleeping.  If not, he would surely have heard Abby stirring and clunking on her cast and he would have come running.

She also couldn't see that casts.  Steve would know that she would feel the casts when she awoke, but perhaps he didn't want her seeing the casts until he was with her.

That was it.

The more Abby thought about it, the more she knew it.  Steve wanted to be with her when she first saw the casts.  He must have been waiting for her to wake up and finally gave up.  So he blindfolded her and went to bed.

Should she be pissed about that?  Or should she just be pissed about the body cast?

She would have to decide that later.  Right now, there was a more pressing problem, the very problem that had been formulating earlier but had been eluding Abby with more important matters.

Suddenly, this was the most important thing. 

Abby had to pee!

She had to pee so bad, she wasn't sure she could hold it.

That's when Abby's pride kicked in.

She was NOT going to call for Steve.  She was going to do make it to the bathroom herself, or she would just have to let go right here on the chair.

But first, she had to remove the blindfold.

Once again, Abby tried to lift her hand to her eyes.  No go.  She shook her head violently from side to side to try to shake the blindfold loose.  It held fast.

She let her head drop to the pillow again.  She thought about what to do.  She tested her left hand again.  Nope.  It was fixed in position in front of her somewhere.

Maybe if she got the corner of the chair's pillow to grab the edge of the blindfold, she could pull it off.

That failed as well. 

What else.

The need to pee was abating ever so slightly.

Good, that provided a little more time to think this through.

A problem was just an opportunity to find a solution.

Every problem had a solution…didn't it?

Steve.

No!  She refused to summon her husband.

Abby laid still momentarily, thinking but not thinking.  Wondering what to do, but without a clue.

She had one free leg.  She could hop to the bathroom.  That wonderful, blessed feeling of a free limb, Abby moved her right leg.  She used the ball of her foot to touch the cast on her left leg…yet another confirmation that this predicament was not a dream.

She moved her right leg toward the floor and found it. 

She tried to raise herself up.

None of the normal muscles responded to her commands to sit up.

No, that wasn't it.  They were responding, but they were unable to comply.

The cast that started at the thumb of her left hand and continued up her left arm, around her shoulder and down her upper torso, kept all her desires at bay. 

Abby could not get up.

The anger surged briefly but Abby suppressed it.

She was going to have to call Steve for help.

Damn! 

In one last ditch effort, Abby moved every uncasted joint up and down, back and forth, round and round, trying to get herself at least to a sitting position, but better still, up to a standing position on her uncasted right leg.  She must have looked like a child having a temper tantrum.

All she succeeded in doing was sliding her entire self down the soft cushion of the chair so that her upper body was resting on the seat cushion and her head was jammed up against the back rest.

This was not comfortable.

She had to pee.

She couldn't see.

She could barely move her head now.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

"STEPHEN ARTHUR DEVERO!"  Abby's call could no doubt be heard throughout the entire neighborhood.

"Steve!  This is not funny!  I am not amused!"  Abby shouted.  She couldn't be sure Steve could even hear her. 

Suddenly, she was being lifted back to a sitting position.

Thank goodness.

She felt a kiss on her cheek.

The cavalry had arrived.

 

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