The Sleeping Death

Tempt your norm. How long have you had these symptoms, Mr. Wentworth? About two weeks. Have you been walking with a limp as long as two weeks? Yes, I have. And did you first notice the injury?

Oh, it must have been six months ago? Yes, at least that long ago. There was a slight swelling in the black and blue mark that it disappeared. I thought nothing more evident until my leg began painting me two weeks ago.

I see. Is there much pain now? No, none. The leg feels numb. Let me see the x-rays, isn't it? Hear the odd doctor. You got so I couldn't stand on the leg more than an hour at a time, and I began walking with a cane.

After that, about three weeks ago, I couldn't put weight on it at all, and I had to buy the crutches. Who suggested the crutches? I know one. You should have seen a doctor two months ago. I didn't suspect that anything was wrong two months ago.

You... you might have saved your leg. Wentworth? You'll have to be amputated at once. Who's my leg? Who's my leg? No doctor. No you can't, you can't. I'm afraid Mr. Wentworth. It isn't a matter of can or can'ts.

None of us have any choice in the matter now. Naturally, I can't compel you to undergo the operation. The choice is up to you. You'll not take your case. Or be responsible for your life.

As that limb is removed instantly, I'm afraid Mr. Wentworth, the poison in your body will never stop until it has reached your brain. It's that bad. It's more serious than I can tell you. Yes.