One Legged Hero

The sound of uneven footsteps coming down the long hallway echoed through the wing of the trauma unit. The steps stopped at the doorway of the corner room at the end of the corridor. A soft rap on the door was followed by the door being opened slowly. In walked a hero, a fellow veteran who had shared war stories with Daddy, he of Viet Nam and Daddy of WWII. There was something else unique about this man. He had one leg. He lost his other leg in a biplane accident.

Daddy roused out of his stupor to see a fellow veteran beside his bed standing on one leg and a metal rod with a shoe attached. He leaned lightly on the crook of his cane. “How are you doing, Robert?” He was the only person I knew, besides Daddy’s mother, to call him Robert. They chatted a bit and soon the sound of footsteps faded as Daddy’s visitor walked back down the hall.

I appreciated him coming to see Daddy, but it wasn’t until later that I realized the importance of his visit. My mother had just died as a result of an automobile accident. She was in the hospital for a few days but there was nothing that could be done to save her life. Though Daddy did not receive life threatening injuries, his health rapidly declined. Daddy was planning on checking out of life. He promised Mama he would take care of her until parted at death. Since she was gone, he thought his job was done. He simply gave up. Sometimes the battles take place in the mind.

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When the one-legged hero walked through the door, Daddy was slapped in the face with his self-pity. There was a change in Daddy. Though he still had many more days in the hospital and rehabilitation, that day was a turning point. We still had many obstacles to overcome, but he had been given the gift of another chance. For over eleven years, we had Daddy with us, thanks to a one-legged hero.