I was sitting in the Bend library, the new one, when the text message came through – Brother John was going back to surgery. Despite several blood transfusions following the amputation of his leg two days prior, his blood count was too low. His team needed to figure out why.

The decision to amputate was not an easy one and one that we all wished hadn’t had to happen. Ironically I had been reading Susan Gregg Gilmore’s novel – The Curious Calling of Leonard Bush (Winner of the Willie Morris award) when I learned Brother John was undergoing an amputation. I had to stop reading the story of Leonard who had his leg amputated when he was just a young boy. Susan’s novel is based on a true story. Writer David Joy has a photo of the grave stone for Leonard’s leg, which is how the book opens – with the funeral for Leonard’s leg.

I don’t think anyone holds funerals for amputated limbs anymore. Leonard did, though. I keep wondering how all those children in Gaza have withstood the ampuations they’ve endured because of the cruelty of the Netanyahu and Trump administration’s genocidal actions. Sometimes I have to force myself to quit thinking about the sufferings of others, but empathy is a gift that I never ever want to be shed of.

Back at the Bend Library, I wasn’t reading Gilmore’s book. I was reading about a group of men from Ohio who had been drafted during the Vietnam War titled The War Within The War: The Black Struggle in Vietnam and at Home by Wil Haygood. It’s a good read. The quote from four-star general Lloyd Austin III at the front of the book provides telling insight as to why Trump fired Austin as Secretary of Defense and installed a white nationalist ninny in his place.

The text telling me that Brother John was headed back to surgery came as I was reading about patriotism within the black communities of Ohio. As I looked up I noticed a man standing near me. On crutches.

He was missing a leg.

I debated about whether I should approach him. I had so many questions I wanted to ask him. Would it be rude of me to approach him?

My family would cringe at the idea of me asking a complete stranger anything about an obviously painful period in their life. Some of my kin hate that I lack whatever it is that makes others MYOB. Neither one of my siblings would strike up a conversation with a stranger about their missing leg.

I suppose I’m just so driven by stories unknown that I can’t help myself. So apologizing for being intrusive, I introduced myself to the fellow. I told him my brother had just had his leg amputated and if he didn’t mind I was curious about his experience with amputation. It’s my floundering way of bringing order to chaos, this pursuit of story.

He was drafted in the Army, back in 1970 or thereabout. Made it through the initial physical but on the second physical doctors discovered a cancerous mass in his leg. He didn’t end up in combat boots in Vietnam, instead he faced a multi-year battle of a different sort – cancer and learning to navigate life standing on one lone foot.

He lives in Montana. He loves to ski. Became a member of the US Ski team. Earned his law degree after teaching for awhile. Retired once for a month but didn’t like it, so returned to the firm where he practices corporate/business law. Travels to Europe twice a year. He was in Sicily when he fell in a hotel room a few years ago and broke the bone that remains of his leg. He’s only just recently started wearing his prosthetic again after that fall.

He wanted to know if my brother was in good health, was he active? Yes, I told him. He’s an outdoorsman, loves to fish and camp. Played football in his younger years. I still think fondly on the times we drove from Georgia to Camp Hill, Alabama, to cheer him on in his games. Those were good days with Mama, whenever we were going to see Brother John at Camp Hill.

Being active will help, the kind fellow said. It’s harder when you are older but he’ll be alright.

I worry about the phantom pain, I said. I’ve been around a lot of vets. I know about the phantom pain. Doctors have been unsuccessful in getting ahead of Brother John’s pain these past few days.

It’s real, he said. Phantom pain. Mine has gotten worse with age. I try to manage my stress levels, stress can make it worse.

After a few more words, we parted ways – the man with the story and me.

And as I wrap this up, I received another text from Brother John’s wife telling the family that they’ve canceled the second surgery. A scan revealed it unnecessary. His blood count was holding steady.

The pain, however, remains. In many ways, I suspect it will for the rest of his life. My prayer is that like the attorney from Montana, Brother John will regain the strength to fish the rivers he loves so well and camp underneath a summer’s star-dotted sky.

Karen Spears Zacharias is author of After the Flag has been Folded (William Morrow).