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My therapist laughed. “Hold your arms out. I’m going to press down on them, and you fight back.”
I grinned. “You mean I can punch you in the face?”
“Not that kind of fighting back.”
“Be more specific next time.”
We laughed and bantered through the test. And while I still wasn’t happy with how much work it took to get through those damn exercises, I proved a lot. I had most of my range of motion back in my arms. My collarbone was strong. All the bruises had healed up, leaving me with only the emotional and mental scarring of that night. My muscles felt better than they had in weeks. My ribcage no longer hurt. My back had straightened itself out and those vertebrae had slipped right back into place.
For once, I felt like myself again.
“All right, Doc. Give it to me straight. How did I do?”
I slumped down into my chair after the evaluation was over. Cecilia stood in the corner, clapping her hands softly and cheering me on. My therapist handed me another bottle of water, watching me as I cracked it open with ease.
And a smile slid across his face.
“You want my personal or professional opinion?”
I took a swig. “Why not both?”
He sat back. “Sounds good enough. Well, personally? You’re doing fantastic. You’re strong. You’re stable. It’s obvious you’re not in any sizable amount of pain anymore. And the strength you’ve gotten back in your body is outstanding for only a month of in-and-out-patient therapy.”
“So, what’s your professional opinion?”
“In my professional opinion, you’re clear to make a full recovery.”
I leapt out of my chair, sending the water flying into the air. My therapist launched out of his, clapping me on the back as I hugged him tightly. I buried my face into the crook of his neck. I hopped around as Cecilia rejoiced in the corner. She came up and hugged me, pulling me away from my therapist. I picked her up and swung her around, still feeling the smallest twinge in my ribcage. But not much.
Not compared to what I’d gotten used to.
The therapist laughed. “Let’s get you a follow-up appointment on the books for three months out. You know, just to check on you and make sure you’re doing okay. I’ll take the liberty of cancelling your appointment with the hospital tomorrow.”
I set Cecilia down. “Thank you. So much. I really, really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, man. Come on. Let’s get you checked out and I’ll give you a formal list of exercises to keep up twice a day. Every day.”
I felt like I’d been saying that a lot lately. That I was appreciative of people’s efforts. But it was the truth. Cecilia, for sticking by me day in and day out with all this shit. For my therapist and the cursing he put up with to get me to this point. For Rae, and Mike, and Aly. Their support in school and huffing around my books when they didn’t have to.
Rae, especially. For helping me keep my head above water with my grades.
I really have to thank her tonight.
Cecilia walked with me to the check-out desk. “What kinds of issues should we keep an eye out for?”
I snickered. “Already losing faith in me?”
My therapist grinned. “Honestly? I don’t think there will be any trouble. He’s strong. And he’s only been getting stronger. But keep an eye out for the usual things. Unexplainable bruising around rehabilitation sights. Any sort of a fever spike. Redness, tenderness, or being swollen in these areas. Also, backsliding. If, for some reason, he backslides in pain or mobility, come back and see me immediately.”
Cecilia nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.”
I got myself checked out with my appointment. Scheduled just before we broke for Christmas break. I offered my arm to Cecilia, walking her out to her car instead of the other way around. It felt nice, escorting my stepmother to the car. For weeks, she’d been the one escorting me. Holding tightly to my waist in an attempt to get me to the car safely. And while I’d been appreciative of everyone’s help over the past few weeks, it felt nice to
help myself again.
Even if Dad wasn’t here to witness any of it.
“So how are you feeling?”
