GrowingOlderHopeWiser

David Adams showed promise early on as a talented sculptor. While still in college, he won several competitions. By the time he was 23, he was already making a name for himself with his series, Urban Legends: A Walk in the Park, which was making the rounds in Chelsea, NY. He was well on his way to becoming the new darling of the art world and to fame.

His sculptures combined metal with realistic plaster casts of humans trapped in metal.

Both handsome and strong, he was very well suited to working with industrial materials and castings. David had an easygoing style, always with a smile and a million-dollar charm. He already had wealthy supporters. David’s work was intense and culturally relevant, depicting the clash between humanity and the cyber-AI world. 

He arrived early at the studio on that very cold December morning, planning for a full workday. He did not wait for his assistants and started cutting with the smaller test version of the Bystronic laser-cutting machine, the newest toy in his studio. While trying to adjust the laser, he accidentally turned on the machine and sliced through his right hand. 75% of his right hand lay on the floor of the studio, chopped up into pieces, and David passed out.

By the time his assistant Sheryl arrived at the studio and found him passed out and injured, he had lost a lot of blood. Groggy and semi-conscious, David woke up in the ICU. His right hand was but a stump, wrapped tightly and packed in a cold casing. They were unable to save his hand.

He kept fading in and out of consciousness. Maria, his girlfriend, stayed by his side. His parents flew in from Chicago and joined her in her vigil. When David finally regained full consciousness and realized what had occurred, his heart dropped. All his dreams and plans were shattered in an instant. How was he going to be a sculptor without a hand? He was distraught.

Chapter 2

Doctor H suggested that he be sent to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, where they have been doing miracles with hand transplantation. There, David was evaluated and deemed a candidate for a hand transplant. He was young and healthy; he did not do drugs or drink heavily at the time.

David still struggled with his emotions and negative thoughts; he was not too sure what this would all entail, or even whether he would ever be able to sculpt again. There were no guarantees. Maria told him she would stay with him through it all and to please stay strong. Arrangements were made for the long road ahead through surgery and recovery.

Chapter 3

Small metal plates were used to attach David’s bone to the donor’s bone. Next came the blood vessels, nerves, and tendons, which were attached with micro-sutures; finally, the skin was sutured. The operation took 24 hours and was extremely delicate and complex. David had his new hand. Now his healing begins, both physically and emotionally.

It took a year before he could use his new hand properly to pick up small items and coins and to grasp a jug of water with it. He had become angry, depressed, anxious, and paranoid. Intensive physical and mental therapy continued. Maria put up with his mood swings because she loved him so much. 

Soon, he began to gain strength in that hand; in fact, it was becoming stronger than his left hand, and David started to hallucinate that the hand was controlling him and that he was losing control of it. As the hand grew stronger, it could crush things more easily, such as ceramic mugs and, eventually, rocks. David grew alarmed and afraid to tell anyone. He kept his secret from the doctors as well. 

He returned to work in the studio, and his sculptures were amazing. He worked in metal like the classic sculptor Michelangelo, achieving fantastic realism. Only his subject matter grew darker and darker, depicting the grotesque and the odd. The hand seemed to have a mind of its own. He became a huge success in the art world, but he felt conflicted and disconnected from his creations. This was not him; he was repulsed by what he was creating. His models were posed in unusual and uncomfortable positions. It got worse. After drinking heavily one night while working, David tried to crush his model’s throat with his transplanted hand in a fit of anger. David got into a fight with his hand. Unable to control it, he wanted to cut it off. He tried to take his own life, but failed; his hand stopped him.

David was spiraling deeper into depression and even broke off his relationship with Maria and began to isolate himself. He worked only at night like a ghost, with no assistants. His creations were even more sought after. They were so lifelike. 

His inner demon seemed to be winning. Maria returned one day and saw him in the most pitiful state. Her Cuban roots flared up, and she said, no more! She took David to a Santero and told him that if he wanted to be free, he needed to cooperate. 

Chapter 4

The drumming rose to a maddening crescendo. Smoke from the fire reddened his eyes and blinded him. He kept drifting between two worlds, feeling he did not belong to either, only somewhere between here and there. The dancers twirled in their white, billowy dresses, bending and undulating to the beat. The Santero was chanting in a guttural voice, as if speaking a foreign tongue so ancient that no one in the room could comprehend it. The assistants puffed their cigars toward David, who by then was writhing on the ground like a snake. The smell of rum and acrid sweat permeated the enclosed room. 

A Long Island Red chicken was taken from its cage to dispel evil spirits and was passed over David’s body and head. David rose from the floor to his knees, clawing at the sky and whining like a stallion, sweat pouring down his back, his face purple-red, veins popping like a roadmap on his neck. The drummers kept drumming. David dropped to the floor again and did not move. Silence, like death, fell. It all stopped. All that could be heard was David’s labored breathing, but he did not move. 

Fresh herbs like basil, rosemary, and thyme were burned in the fire to bless the environment. The ladies took handfuls of palm fronds and took turns shaking and swiping them over David’s body, cleansing him of any residual evil that might have lingered. The Santero took swigs of rum and spat them toward David, spraying him with blessings. The ladies brought out a pile of clean white clothes, dressed David in them, brushed his hair, and perfumed it with “Agua de Florida.” The scent of citrus and the floral notes of lavender freshened his body. Ritual beads of the “seven potencies” were placed around his neck. 

A visible calm settled over his face as he slowly awoke from his stupor. He sat up, peaceful as can be. It was finally over. 

Sometimes we just have to break out of the cycle of our negative thoughts. They can be debilitating. This is just a work of fiction. There is no magic cure but our own mind.