BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 172
Dr. Pomeroy explained it wasn‟t garbage being burned. No, that wasn‟t what I
smelled at all. What I smelled was the gangrene in my leg. Rotting tissue that, if I didn‟t
get it removed, would soon kill me. With a heavy heart, he explained I had to either let
them amputate my right leg, or die within a week. Maybe less.
I surprised him with a lie, but it became true even as I spoke it. By the time I
finished my proclamation, I meant every word of what I said. “If I ever come out of
surgery and that leg is gone, I‟m going to kill myself. I‟ve been hiding some of the pain
pills they give me when they try to talk me out of a shot. I‟ll take every fucking one at
one time if I ever find my leg‟s gone. I came into this world a whole kid, and I‟ll leave
this world the same way. You either save the whole kid, or lose him. I don‟t care, either
way, but I do not want to live without my leg.”
Dr. Pomeroy wasn‟t too sure how to reply, so he left. He was back later that
afternoon with another grim look on his face. There was a small chance, he told me, but
not that good. A new antibiotic was available. Achromycin, now known as tetracycline.
He cautioned it was very powerful. They‟d be giving me a massive dose in hopes
it would kill the infection. He reminded me he didn‟t think it would work, but it was the
only possible chance I had without surgery. I‟d have to take it with milk, something I‟ve
always loved anyway. Even then, it might make me barf. If it worked, a real long shot,
they‟d start my surgeries and try to fix the leg as best they could.
I told him to get right on it. No sense wasting time.
As far as I know, it worked because, unfortunately, I‟m not dead. I‟d‟ve been
elated to return to what I was able to sniff and quickly taste test, being dead, but God has
other things He wants Bill to do first. So, until I‟m finished doing whatever He wanted
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