For eleven years, my husband Weldon carried a secret guilt that slowly changed him. It began when our seventeen-year-old son, Dashiell, suffered a devastating accident involving a grain auger at his uncle’s farm. Weldon, a surgeon himself, spent nine hours desperately trying to save his son’s left arm before finally making the heartbreaking decision to amputate it. A medical review later confirmed that he had done everything correctly, and Dashiell never blamed him, but Weldon remained convinced that another surgeon might somehow have saved the ar…Continue Reading
