Practice Makes

The decision was one which, yes, she would later describe as "out of the blue" -- and accurately so! -- but that didn't mean it was completely unplanned and unprepared for.

Amputation was a very careful and deliberate art, and one that Stanley Gimble was well familiar with, even if she could hardly say she had perfected the craft. Why, that was the point of all this, wasn't it? That and the overwhelming feeling, now that she'd thought of it, that this was right. After all, if her work and knowledge would improve and she wouldn't even miss that arm, what could be the downside?

So long as she didn't bleed to death, of course. So she prepared, though she had, she would admit, been tempted to just do the deed. She knew she could be something of an impulsive sort, and she had a set of bone cutters. But since she simply couldn't risk having anyone with her as she performed the procedure -- she knew full well that she could easily lose her license this way, she would have to come up with some excuse -- she would need to be careful. She intended to master her chosen realm of prosthetics, not to fall to what was, quite frankly, quite a basic procedure.

So she took a full hour to gather all of the appropriate tools, the scalpel, scissors, clamps, all of the various bone instruments, as well as the bupivacaine, of course. As both patient and doctor, she naturally wouldn't be able put herself under for the procedure! The bupivacaine itself was painful at first, but she could deal with that.

And it was really quite fascinating, experiencing the surgery on the other end... Well, at both ends. Cutting into her own arm and feeling no pain was oddly thrilling, and each little arrangement she made of her own arm muscles, each cut that carefully shaped them, was all the more captivating for how it was her own muscle. Each nerve she cut with exacting care, and she went slowly as she sewed the nerve endings into tissue, finding doing such things one-handed-- difficult. Yes, difficult, but very rewarding! And tying each blood vessel as it was cut was of course even more rewarding. Kept all of her efforts from being in vein, as it were. She was positive of it. Haha.

"Bloody good one, that," she muttered to herself, appreciative.

She had winced more than once -- she was only human, after all -- but she didn't cringe until she started to cut through bone. It wasn't pain, exactly, but instead a, well, bone-deep grinding sensation, far worse than the sound alone. She soldiered on, reasoning that she'd come so far and she really just needed to carry on with it, stiff upper lip and so on, but that was the first real hump she had with the process. Fortunate that all this bonework was the last difficult part, smoothing down the edges of the bone with patient care despite the uncomfortably odd sensation, but having that arm off was like, well... Like shedding a weight! Around ten pounds of it, in fact. It was rather freeing.

After that, well, all that was left was the little details, really. A bit more arrangement of musculature, which she quite liked and went back to with pleasure, putting in a few tubes for draining, and putting on the dressing and the stocking. The site itself she didn't sew up just yet, deciding it might be best to leave it open for a few days, though she was certain she'd gotten it all right the first time.

Only a few hours between the thought of amputation and an expertly completed job of it, if she did say so herself. She really was improving already. She looked over at her discarded arm as she picked up the phone, almost paternally. Strange, that she felt slightly more attached to it now than when it had been attached to her. Perhaps she should keep it, as a souvenir?

"Yes, hello! This is Stanley Gimble from Gimble's Prosthetics and Medical Supplies. Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid we may need to reschedule your appointment..."