Twenty Four.
by sar
Obligatory Disclaimer: Do I own ER or any of its characters? No, I'm just borrowing for a moment.
Title Explanation: 24 = number of times "some" is used in this story.
Note: There's a specific writing scheme to this which was hard to maintain, so I hope I was able to pull it off. And I know, I know -- I already wrote a post-amputation Romano in Broken Is the Man (and huge thanks to all of you who gave me such nice feedback). But I can't help it - I like writing OneArmedRomano ;)

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Some days are harder than others. As usual he'll be eating breakfast and reading the morning newspaper. He'll be holding an English muffin in his right hand, and will want to turn the page. So he'll move his left hand to perform the simple task. The sight of the fleshy stump is what finally reminds him that the arm no longer exists. So then he replaces that second cup of coffee with a long, long swig of some hard liquor.

And it is on these days that he wishes some helicopter would find him and just finish the job that the other started.

Some say that he will learn to adjust. Soon he will get used to his prosthetic limb; he will grow accustomed to depending on his right arm. It won't be so difficult. Besides, he should look on the bright side -- at least it wasn't his dominant arm that was lost. Some might even consider him lucky.

And at these people he wants to yell major obscenities for their false belief that a one armed surgeon is some thing of fortune.

Sometimes he considers putting an end to it all. He assures himself that it would be so easy. He could take a lethal combination of some drugs and that would be it. No messy cuts to the wrists, no bullet through the head, no blood at all. They would find him the next day, lifeless and clean on the bathroom floor.

And it is when he has the pills lined up in a row that he remembers he still has a dog to take care of, so he puts off his plan for some other day.

Some people at the hospital have gone the extra mile to let him know that they don't think any less of him now that he's a one armed freak. Susan Lewis and Michael Gallant have been particularly kind to him. They try to start up some friendly conversations with him in the lounge, and invite him for coffee in the cafeteria.

And to these people he tries to reciprocate the acts of kindness, something he never would have done before the amputation and honestly, is not very good at.

Some other woman has also been rather kind to him lately. Elizabeth. She asks him how his days are, how he's getting along. She even invited him to lunch a few times, just to catch up on things. Each time he gives her some lie about how he is fine, his arm is fine, his job is fine, everything is fine.

And he knows this woman sees through the lie and he feels like some fool for thinking that she would believe him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that his world is not over. There is still some meaning to it. He should be patient because this moment will eventually pass. Yes, his arm was amputated. And yes, performing surgery is out of the question. But at the end of the day, all that really matters is that he is still alive.

And he wishes that this rational way of thinking would some day take full control, because he is fed up with the depressed being he's become.

Somehow he will be able to eat that English muffin while turning the newspaper to page C-3. Somehow he will be able to agree with the many assurances that he will adjust. Somehow he will be able to look at those pills and not have his thoughts turn dark. Somehow he will be able to have a comfortable conversation with Lewis or Gallant. Somehow he will be able to look at Elizabeth and not hide the truth. Somehow he will be able to appreciate the miracle that lies in every breath he still can take.

And this, this is how life will begin again.