Page 8 of Fractured Grief
“Let’s use the chair, and I’ll see about a new walker for you.” The smile he sent me made my heart skip a beat.
We made our way to one of the treatment rooms, where he took me through some basic movements. His style was unlike that of my previous practitioner, but he was firm. His sunny demeanor still shone through even as he challenged me at every turn.
“This is just to give me an idea of where you’re at and how your body’s moving. It will help me create a better plan for you going forward. Think of it like an assessment for your body.”
“I al-ways ha-t-t-ed tests,” I retorted, feeling the burn as I concentrated on moving my arms and the weights I was supposed to be lifting.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’re acing it.”
Once we’d completed all the tasks he wanted to assess, he helped me with some cool-down exercises.
For such a tiny thing, he wasstrong. He helped lift my leg into position and used his body to push it across my abdomen. The stretches burned through my lower back as shivers that had nothing to do with the stretch, skittered over my skin.
Seeing his tight form against my large thigh was almost comical. He was so small, almost delicate beside my big frame. Watching him use his body to shift mine around did something to me. A warmth settled in my belly as I gazed at his face, full of determination. My numb leg tingled as he shifted it, and I let out an involuntary squeak.
Indy’s gaze shot to mine. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” my voice cracked, so I cleared my throat. “Yes, i-it’s my l-eg. It’s ting-lin-ling, but not pain-ful pins and n-eedles type, just… sen-sation.” I was cautiously pleased I’d felt anything.
“That’s great news!” Indy beamed, his giant smile lighting up the entire room. “Let me try a few other things, and let me know what you feel.” He moved me this way and that, checking things and muttering to himself. He eventually shifted so he was between my legs, and he pushed my bent leg slowly up to meet my chest using his body weight. The tingling shifted to my core and lower. Butterflies came to life in my belly, dancing and swooping. It was such a foreign sensation. As he moved forward, stretching and stroking my thigh, the warmth grew.
What the fuck!?
Internally panicking at the foreign feeling and Indy’s soft palm as he continued his massage of my thigh muscle, I squeaked again. “I th-ink I’ve r-reached m-my… limit.” Squeezing my eyes closed, I willed myself to get a grip. These new sensations were so weird.
Indy froze in place, his hand almost on my ass. “Okay,” he sounded unsure. “Does your leg hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay, anything else hurt?”
Pausing, I didn’t know what to say or what to do. Taking a deep breath, I lied. “My b-back is twin-ging, and… my wound f-eels agg-rava-ted from the p-pressure.”
“Oh, okay. Let me check then.” He shifted my leg and came around to my side to lift my shirt. He gentlycaressed the edges of the bandages, then poked and prodded the area. “It looks okay, but I’ll have a nurse come check on it when we get back to your room.”
He helped me into my wheelchair and pushed me back to my room. All the while, my mind raced at the strange sensations running through my body and the hope of what each one could mean.
Chapter 5
Indy
Wheeling Seb back into his room, I helped him get situated on the bed. Grabbing some heating pads from the supply cupboard in the hall, I cracked them to activate. Once Seb stopped shuffling around, I carefully placed them over his most worked muscles. I made sure to add a few to his back, neck, and shoulders for some added comfort. He hadn’t injured those muscles, per se, but from observing him, he was very tense and rigid. He was so wide, I had to get more than the usual two heat packs I’d automatically grabbed.
“How does that feel?” I asked while placing the last one.
“Good.” He closed his eyes.
“So, tell me honestly, other than your back, how are you feeling after that session?” I asked, glancing at Seb to gauge his answer.
“P-pretty good,” he huffed out, eyes still closed. I noticed that he paused a lot when speaking. I knew his strokehistory, and while I wasn’t a speech therapist, I would say he’d come a long way from not being able to speak or form sentences to a few pauses and stutters here and there.
“W-hat’s your as-sess-s-ment… Doc?” He chuffed breathily, looking at me with tired eyes.
“Not a Doc, but thanks for the upgrade,” I smirked at him. “You did well today. I’ll see you every day this week, and then we’ll reassess on Monday. I want you to take it easy for the rest of today. Rest and no pushing yourself. I’ll have a full set of exercises for you in the morning, so you’ll need to be ready.”
“Sure th-ing, S-sarg,” he smiled and closed his eyes again.
“Let me see if I can make you a little more comfortable.”
