The Arm and Flanagan Page 6

After breakfast, Jimmy pulled the piece of paper from his shirt pocket. He flattened the paper out on the small table under the kitchen telephone and dialed the number on the piece of paper. He did everything with his right hand because the other arm seemed to be inoperable again. After his experiences with it during the night, that was fine with Jimmy.

  A man answered. “Saxon speaking.”

  “Fred Saxon? This is Jimmy Flanagan. You called me yesterday.”

  “Sergeant Flanagan, yes. Thanks for returning my call.”

  The “sergeant” part gave Jimmy an uneasy feeling, but he said nothing and waited for Saxon to continue.

  Saxon said, “I’m with the VA medical center in Morrisburg.”

  “This is about the arm?” Jimmy asked. “The one you guys attached to me yesterday?”

  “Yes, it’s about your new arm. I’m sure you’re quite used to it already. It’s an amazing device. We were hoping you’d be willing to drive over and talk to a small group of patients who just arrived. They’ll all be receiving new arms and legs under the same experimental program as you, and I think it would it be helpful if you could show them how quick and easy the adjustment is.”

  “Reassure them, you mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know,” Jimmy said, “I’d love to. Yeah. When do you want me there?”

  “Could you come up this afternoon? Around 1:00 o’clock?”

  “I’d love to. I’ll give those guys the lowdown.”

  “Wonderful! Ask for me. I’ll see you then, Sergeant.”

  “Is it a job?” his mother asked.

  Jimmy turned away from the telephone. “It’s better than a job, Mom.”

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