Ole Lanker learns to trap!
The three weeks came and went. Time for appearing back underneath the surgeon's knife arrives all too quickly. Before Lanker had forgotten about the last experience, he is once again lying on the table in doctor Roldoge's operating room. The somewhat uncomfortable rubber mask is being positioned over his mouth and nose, and he is instructed to breathe in deeply, while counting backwards to ten.
He never makes it past seven, soon awaking, only to find himself back in the room surrounded by his family. His feet hurt with a fresh sting of new pain. When he glances down upon them, they are re-plastered in brand new casts, now from the inside bends of his knees down, but this time there are thick rubber stoppers with tread permanently fixed onto the bottoms of these casts. The pins running through his feet, with their wicked wires connecting to every single bone in them, are finally gone at long last.
Even though he realizes it hurts far too much for him to attempt it at the present time, he can't wait to try walking on them. After three days the nurse who feeds him, then checks his temperature, is soon telling him and his parents he can try walking with these new casts fitting below the knees, with rubber stoppers on the bottoms of his feet. The little boy simply can not have been happier.
Many long minutes are spent walking around the hospital floor in these fresh casts. The pain is all too great, but none more so than Lanker's desire to finally walk after experiencing so much grief. Right at first the intensity of the pain makes him cry, but in time he toughens up to it, blocking the pain out by the power of his mind alone. His resistance to the jolting pain allows him to develop as a walker.
Some more time passes, maybe months. The doctor finally announces cheerfully to his parents.
"Your son has made astonishing advancements in such a short period of time. He may well go down in the annals of surgical history as being among the fastest healers in his specific situation. As a doctor, this witness makes my heart very happy."
His mother cries tears of joy. There is nothing she loved more than seeing her son content. Her greatest fear is her son never being able to walk, and as a direct result, becoming discouraged with life. Soon doctor Roldoge' confronts both of his parents, and the family at large.
"I must be honest with all of you. He may well only walk until he is sixteen years old. His feet will cause him great pain in time, eventually confining him to assisted living. A wheelchair may be his only mode of self-propulsion. It sounds really bad for me to mention this possible reality to you right now, but as an ethical professional I have no other choice."
His mother's face hardens back up.
"So, what will this mean to him?"
"Well, it will mean that he must live with this ever-looming possibility. At some point in his life he will be confined into a wheelchair. He may even require assisted living. As time advances, we shall know much more in regard to this prognosis made at our present time. Nothing is impossible, and maybe he will not ever need a wheelchair, or assisted living of any sort. That much is our honest hope in all of this."
His mother lowers her head, coming near to tears.
"The mere thought of this possibility is almost more than I can bear. I just want him to be like all the others, and most importantly, to be happy. He likes moving around. I can already tell that much. He loves to be on the move. A person like that would never be happy confined into a wheelchair, or on assisted living of any sort."
"I perfectly realize that" says the doctor, "but he may be compelled by circumstance to consider the possibility. That is all I am saying here. This possibility will never change, and the odds standing against him increase as he ages. When pain begins to set in, it simply cannot be ignored. If his feet cannot support the weight of his body, then he will not be able to walk. The choices I have mentioned will therefore be all there is remaining for him.
"This possibility, albeit negative as it may sound, is a reality that must be considered in all undertakings. This reality will never go away. It will only sit there throughout the lifetime of this child. My prognosis is where the situation will worsen in a short duration of time, but most certainly with the onset of age. Give him four more years, then see where the situation stands at that time. We can then make a fresh analysis."
The family, being the Grandparents, the mother and the child, make their way from the doctor's office at the world-famous medical University of The Royal Dukes, all the way back to the small cottage tucked away in the dense woods of Hog Waller. The ride is a pleasant one, but prevailing thoughts in the minds of Lanker's parents and Grandparents are creating mounting stress in their hearts. Later on in life, Lanker would boast to others where he once attended this university of worldwide renown, but few of the one's listening will really believe him.
Lanker himself views the situation through a different set of eyes. He doesn't know what his long-term future holds, but he knows his situation in the present time is a definite improvement. When he arises, the pain is great from the recent operation, and the new positioning of these casts. He will need to block out the pain, then force himself to walk on a daily basis, if he is ever to make progress. Doing so proves very difficult, to the point where words for description appear to somehow fall short; but at this point in his life, he is finding where he is becoming very skilled at overcoming any odds stacked against him.
As he struggles to plod along, there are witnesses carefully hiding from any others present in the room, cheering his progress. In the right-hand corner of the bedroom, right beside a brand-new Teddy Bear he received as a coming home gift from his grandparents, stands Captain Whiskers, yelling harsh commands as if it is a rookie sailor's boot camp procession, rather than a young child struggling to walk.
"Ooo-ra boy, forward march! Keep on trudging through the mud in front of ya. No time to stop or cry for Mama. This isn't a place for Mama's boys. All of that is behind you now. Keep moving onward! Onward directly ahead, I shall say. Ignore the pain and grinding fatigue, got no time here for it. Let's move it! Move it! Move it along. Forward., march!"
In what appears to be the door of the room, in the distance as he struggles and strains while in great pain, he can barely make out the hallway, and the closet where Lanky Swanky Jane lays. He places his right foot upon the floor, as he attempts to lift his weight. This foot trembles when the pain sends great consuming jolts throughout his entire body. He glances up toward the door, then back down at his shaking legs and feet. Almost instinctively he knows he must battle this dark tendency to withhold, and simply collapse back down into the bed. As he struggles along, across the floor races a small well-dressed female figure, who pauses with both hands placed upon her hips, and a hard expression on her face. Instantly he recognizes her to be Mrs. Tassels.
"Sonny there, please don't keep me waiting any longer. Supper is almost done now! Can't you smell it cooking? Come on now, let's keep a moving along! Mind ya manners, ya hear me? You have no choice but to make yourself move, or else you're only stuck in the mud, like a fat old cow of some sort.
"When Captain Whiskers was stationed on the fabled island of Khalif, he discovered pits of tar where the bones of huge lions larger than trucks, were buried. He discovered colossal elephants, giraffes, and the bones of bears three times the size of any living kind. These were all beasts who bogged down into the mud, then simply gave up on their struggle to the dirt bank. Don't give up like these beasts, son, or else you will wind up as they did, a heap of moldering bones!
"Supper 'll be waiting soon. Let's go now, let's move along. I don't want to, but if I have to get that hickory switch to ya, I will now, and you'll know it! Don't make the others late."
While it seems like hours passed, he is nearly out of breath when he finally makes it to the door of his bedroom, at long last. His feet, ankles, and entire legs tremble in spite of his best efforts to stabilize them. As he nears the threshold covered in a cold sweat, he can hear the voice of Lanky Swanky Jane, speaking from behind the closed door of this narrow-forgotten closet, a third of the way down the hall.
"Yeah, sonny there, I can vividly recall the struggle of your mother to learn her alphabet and multiplication tables. Several times she tossed her notebook to the side, heartily grabbing me as she proceeded to spill her tales of woe into my ever patiently awaiting ears. I didn't really mind it, but I sure tired of hearing her complain, since complaining didn't solve her problem of needing to learn. After a period of time, she would realize that, then invest the labor into learning those assignments.
"I say that this same rule applies to you, in your situation. You dedicate time into the labor of learning to walk in spite of weakness and pain, then the efforts of your struggle should pay off handsomely one day in the future. Just look at your mother now. She is transferring into employment behind the closed doors of a finishing school, then one day she'll proceed on into college. When she accomplishes this objective, that will be wonderful, don't you think? What we want people to do is say the same things in regard to you. Now don't we, boy?
"He struggled hard against great adversity, but just look at him now for crying out loud! The golden sun really does shine on him like no other! Have a splendid look, all of you. See him against the horizon in the sinking peach sun, sitting so high upon his glorious throne?"
Lanker continues to fight with himself as he stumbles his way down the hall. He passes a dusty pot belly wood stove sitting idle in a sharp corner on his right, as he rounds the wall. His legs wobble and tremble with even more tenacity, as he continues to force himself toward the threshold of his grandmother's living room floor. If he can only make it there, he keeps whispering to himself, while consumed in ever mounting agony.
Once across the living room threshold, he will make his way across the floor, then turn to the right underneath a large archway, moving directly into the dining area. Immediately across from this open archway sits an ancient table of elegant hand cut and carved oak, with exotic designs gracing its edges, and the feet of powerful lions on the table legs. To speak the truth about it, good King Arthur would have been very proud of this round table and could have seated every one of his twelve knights around its edge comfortably, with he, himself, at the end in a chair resembling some sort of throne in its own right. This table was said by his grandmother to have been more than two hundred years old, originating directly from the old Johnston family plantation home, the heritage home of his grandfather's family.
The China cabinet sitting against the wall beside the door to the kitchen, originated from the same heritage home, as were the beautifully decorated dishes and bowls inside. According to his grandfather, this China cabinet came over with his fifth great grandfather, all the way from Ireland. Hearing the stories all around this unique China cabinet, the dresser sitting in the bedroom with the mirror on a black background, and the travel bed that came completely apart by turning only a single large thumb screw, made Lanker's imagination run wild.
Since all of these items originated in Ireland some three hundred years ago and were articles only well to do people could afford, so he has been told, then these are only more suggestions of a pot filled with golden coins being hidden around somewhere. His family was very wealthy in Ireland, but unfortunately had lost this wealth. They regained it relatively quickly while in America, only to lose it all once more a mere year of the wood ox earlier from his own time.
No person or family could accumulate such vast land holdings as his own had, with elaborate articles and elegant structures so quickly; unless there existed some means to jump start the process, his young mind reasons. If these family jewels are in fact lost, then he would be the one destined to find them!
Once inside this dining room area in front of the table, to the left was a narrow doorway remaining forever free of a means to close, but one giving Lanker the sensation that once upon a time there truly was a real closing and opening door in this open frame doorway. Upon close examination, he detects faint traces of hinge marks, when he strains his eyes to do so.
As he stumbles into the living room area from the bedroom at long last, he pauses to catch his breath, as he allows himself to become seated upon the floor. Back inside the kitchen he can hear the voice of his grandmother.
"Oh, this breakfast will soon be ready."
"The bacon and eggs sure smell good on a sultry morning such as this," replies his mother with a smiling voice.
"Do you think the baby will be up yet?" his grandmother asks. "I think I heard something in the hallway. You might need to go and check up on him, Lindza."
His mother's feet fall heavily upon the floor of the cottage house as she walks. They round the corner into the living room, and there he sits.