Dana thought about all the emotions behind the question. “I’ll try to spend more time with you, darling.”
X
THE CALL CAME out of the blue on Monday morning.
“Dana Evans?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Joel Hirschberg. I’m with the Children’s Foundation.”
Dana listened, puzzled. “Yes?”
“Elliot Cromwell mentioned to me that you told him you’re having a problem getting a prosthetic arm for your son.”
Dana had to think a moment. “Yes, I guess I did.”
“Mr. Cromwell gave me the background. This foundation has been set up to help children from war-torn countries. From what Mr. Cromwell told me, your son certainly comes under that heading. I wonder if you would like to bring him in to see me?”
“Well, I—well, yes, of course.” They made the appointment for later that day.
When Kemal got home from school, Dana said excitedly, “You and I are going to see a doctor about getting a new arm for you. Would you like that?”
Kemal thought about it. “I don’t know. It won’t be a real arm.”
“It will be as close to a real arm as we can get. Okay, pal?”
“Cool.”
Dr. Joel Hirschberg was in his late forties, an attractive, earnest-looking man with an air of quiet competence.
When Dana and Kemal exchanged hellos, Dana said, “Doctor, I want to explain up front that we’d have to work out some kind of financial arrangement, because I was told that because Kemal is growing, a new arm would be outdated every—”
Dr. Hirschberg interrupted. “As I told you over the phone, Miss Evans, the Children’s Foundation has been set up especially to help children from war-torn countries. We’ll take care of the expenses.”
Dana felt a surge of relief. “That’s wonderful.” She said a silent prayer. God bless Elliot Cromwell.
Dr. Hirschberg turned to Kemal again. “Now, let’s take a look at you, young man.”
Thirty minutes later Dr. Hirschberg said to Dana, “I think we can fix him up almost as good as new.” He pulled down a chart on the wall. “We have two kinds of prostheses, myoelectric, which is state-of-the-art, and a cable-operated arm. As you can see here, the myoelectric arm is made of plastics and covered with a handlike glove.” He smiled at Kemal. “It looks as good as the original.”
Kemal asked, “Does it move?”
Dr. Hirschberg said, “Kemal, do you ever think about moving your hand? I mean the hand that isn’t there any longer.”
“Yes,” Kemal said.
Dr. Hirschberg leaned forward. “Well, now, whenever you think about that phantom hand, the muscles that used to work there will contract and automatically generate a myoelectric signal. In other words, you’ll be able to open and close your hand just by thinking about it.”
Kemal’s face lit up. “I will? How—how do I put the arm on and take it off?”
“It’s really very simple, Kemal. You’ll just pull on the new arm. It’s a suction fit. There will be a thin nylon sock over the arm. You can’t swim with it, but you can do just about anything else. It’s like a pair of shoes. You take it off at night and put it on in the morning.”
“How much does it weigh?” Dana asked.
“Anywhere from six ounces to a pound.”
Dana turned to Kemal. “What do you think, sport? Should we try it?”
Kemal was trying to conceal his excitement. “Will it look real?”
Dr. Hirschberg smiled. “It will look real.”
“It sounds rad.”
“You’ve had to become left-handed, so you’re going to have to unlearn that. That will take time, Kemal. We can get you fitted immediately, but you’ll have to see a therapist for a little while to learn how to make this a part of you and how to control the myoelectric signals.”
Kemal took a deep breath. “Cool.”
Dana hugged Kemal tightly. “It’s going to be wonderful,” she said. She was fighting back tears.
Dr. Hirschberg watched them a moment, then smiled. “Let’s go to work.”
When Dana returned to the office, she went in to see Elliot Cromwell.
“Elliot, we just left Dr. Hirschberg.”
“Good. I hope he can help Kemal.”
“It looks as though he can. I can’t tell you how very, very much I appreciate this.”