Page 88 of Maybe in Another Life

I smile, appreciative.

“You are healing nicely. We’re almost out of the woods here, in terms of risk of complications.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, looking down at my chart. “We should talk about your next steps.”

“OK,” I say. “Tell me.”

“One of our physical therapists is going to come in tomorrow, around eleven.”

“OK.”

“And he and I will assess what sort of mobility you have, what you can expect in a reasonable amount of time, what you should know going forward.”

“Great.”

“And we will come up with a program and a tentative timeline for when you can expect to begin walking unaided.”

“Sounds good,” I tell her.

“This is a long road ahead. It’s one that can be very frustrating.”

“I know,” I say. I’ve been sitting in a bed for a week, leaving only rarely and only with help.

“It will only get more frustrating,” she says. “You are going to have to learn how to do something you already know how to do. You will get angry. You will feel like giving up.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not going to give up.”

“Oh, I know that,” she says. “I just want you to know that it’s OK towantto give up. That it’s OK to reach a breaking point with this stuff. You have to have patience with yourself.”

“You’re saying I’m going to have to relearn how to walk,” I tell her. “I already know that. I’m ready.”

“I’m saying you’re going to have to relearn how to live,” she says. “Learn how to do things with your hands for a while instead of your legs. Learn how to ask for help. Learn when you have reached your limit and when you can keep going. And all I’m saying is that we have resources at your disposal. We can help you get through all of it. You will get through all of it.”

I felt I had this under control, to a certain degree, before she walked in here, and now she’s making me feel like everything is a disaster.

“OK,” I say. “I’ll let that marinate.”

“OK,” she says. “I’ll come check on you tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” I say. I only half mean it.

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, but I know that if I go to sleep now, I’ll wake up in time to see Henry. So that’s what I do. I go to bed. I only have a few more nights in this hospital. I’d hate to waste one sleeping.

I’m awake by eleven, when he comes in. I’m prepared for him to make a joke about me being nocturnal or something, but he doesn’t. He just says, “Hello.”

“Hi,” I say.

He looks down at my chart. “So you’re going to be taking off pretty soon,” he says.

“Yeah. I guess I’m just too healthy for this place.”

“A blessing if I’ve ever heard one.” He gives me a perfunctory smile and then checks my blood pressure.

“Would you want to help me practice standing?” I ask. “I want to show you how well I’m doing. I stood up almost entirely on my own this morning.”

“I have a lot of patients to get to, so I don’t think so,” he says. He doesn’t even look at me.

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