The statuesque man lifted more than ten films up to the light. They X-rays were almost artistic -- a perfect representation of my insides. Torn, nailed, sewed up, fixed together haphazardly. He looked concerned as a sigh passed between his plush lips, rubbing the graying stubble on his chin and put the films down on the table.
"You're going to need another surgery. A last resort. We'd take marrow from your hip bone, put it on your collar bone, and hope that it heals. If you think the pain of the last surgery hurt, the hip procedure will be a little bit worse. Prepare yourself. How does Tuesday sound?"
surgery
