Page 68 of Maybe in Another Life

“Well,” he says, “regardless of who can bench-press what, it’s my job to lift you. But before I do, we’ve got some stuff to cover.”

“Oh,” I say. “OK, go for it.”

He tells me it may hurt. He tells me it’s going to be an adjustment. We can’t do much at first, just get into the wheelchair and learn to move around a bit. Simply moving into the chair initially might wear me out. Then Henry starts unhooking me from a few of the machines that have come to feel like my third and fourth arms. He leaves the IV in. He tells me that while I’m in the hospital, that’s coming with us.

“Do you feel ready?” he asks me once everything is set up and I’m all that’s left to deal with.

“As I ever will,” I tell him.

I’m scared. What if this hurts? What if this doesn’t work? What if I have to stay in this bed for the rest of my life, and I can never move, and this is it for me? What if my life is sugar-free Jell-O and dry chicken dinners? I’ll just lie here in a hospital gown that doesn’t close in the back for the rest of my waking days.

Oh, God. Oh, God. This gown doesn’t close in the back.

Henry is going to see my ass.

“You’re going to see my butt, aren’t you?” I ask as he moves toward me.

To his credit, he doesn’t laugh at me. “I won’t look,” he says.

I’m not sure that answer is good enough.

“I’m a professional nurse, Hannah. Give me a little credit. I’m not gonna sneak a peek at your tush for kicks.”

I can’t help but laugh as I consider my choices. Which is to say that I consider that I don’t really have a choice at all if I want to get out of this bed.

“Cool?” he says.

“Cool,” I say.

He takes my legs and spins me. I inch myself toward him.

He gets up close to me. He puts his arm around my back, his other arm under my legs.

“One,” he says.

“Two,” I say with him.

“Three!” we say as he lifts me, and then, within seconds, I’m in the wheelchair.

I’m in a wheelchair.

Someone just had to lift me into a wheelchair.

I was going to have a baby, and it died.

“OK?” Henry says.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head and pushing the bad thoughts out of my mind. “Yes!” I add. “I’m excited about this! Where are we going?”

“Not much of anywhere this go-around,” he says. “Right now, we just want to get you comfortable in the chair and familiar with it. Maybe just wheel around the room a bit.”

I turn and look at him. “Oh, come on,” I say. “I want out of this room. I’ve been peeing in a bedpan for days. I want to see something.”

He looks at his watch. “I’m supposed to check on other patients.”

I get it. He has a job. I’m a part of his job. “OK,” I say. “Tell me how it works.”

He starts showing me how to push the wheels and how to stop. We roam around the room. I push myself so hard that I crash into the wall, and Henry runs toward me and grabs me.

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