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“Well, I was reading about this new treatment plan online. Something called controlled hyper-extension. The article said it could be helpful.”
“I don’t recommend that for Olivia,” I said firmly. “She’s very young, and her arm is healing properly for now. We don’t want to change anything and risk reversing her recovery and possibly doing her more damage.”
“But I really think it might be worth trying,” her mother said. “The article said the amount of pain associated with this new treatment is way less than traditional physical therapy.”
“That’s not yet proven,” I said. “These tests are still very new. Olivia is not an ideal candidate for something like that.”
“Are you sure?” her mother asked. “I really think we should.”
&n
bsp; My patience waning, but I was trying not to show it. I had to remind myself why I wanted this job so much. Growing up seeing my father care for his patients with so much care and love always left me so excited to be a part of the same world.
“I know how worried you are. But I can assure you that Olivia is doing quite well. Her treatment is rough, but it will get easier. Now, if you would like a second opinion, I’m happy to give you a few numbers to call. My colleagues can review her file and tell you what they think.”
I tried to keep my voice light and calm, but it wasn’t easy. People who believed the internet as the end all be all thought they knew more than licensed professionals, and it was often not the best for the patients in vulnerable states like Olivia. This was my job. I was new to it, but I was also damn good.
“No,” she finally said, sighing deeply. “You’re right. I’m just nervous.”
“I understand,” I said, smiling kindly.
“We’ll see you next week.”
“Bye, Tara!” Olivia said, grinning widely as her mother led her through the door. I smiled and waved until they disappeared.
With a groan, I walked behind my desk and fell into my chair. My physical therapy clinic was located just off the main hospital, giving me just enough privacy to help my patients but not enough for a single second of true alone time.
My head was throbbing at this point. These headaches were nothing new. I’d been getting them for over a month now. I knew I needed to get myself checked out, but I simply didn’t have the time. My patients and my job were more important. This was my last rotation, and if I did well, I would graduate Physical Therapy school with honors and finally get my hard-earned license.
I laid my head on my desk, breathing deeply and rubbing my temples with my fingers. I drank water and tried desperately to relax. The day was almost over. Soon, I would be able to go home and get some rest. For now, I just had to tough it out, push through the pain until I could get to bed and let it overwhelm me. It was hard, but after a few minutes, I managed to pull myself together.
My clinical instructor, Abi, peeked in the room. “You okay?” she asked. “You’re looking a little tired.”
I smiled weakly and nodded. “Yeah, my lunch just didn’t agree with me. Remind me not to eat sushi from the cafeteria again,” I said, trying to ease her obvious concern.
Finally, she nodded and smiled. “Well, yeah, that’s kind of a given,” she said before turning around and heading out into the main corridor to catch a doctor she needed to speak to.
With a groan, I got to my feet and walked around my desk to clean up the room. Olivia’s weights were still on the ground, and I hadn’t yet wiped down the surfaces for the day. I put the weights back on the rack and grabbed a bottle of sanitizer and a towel. Just as I wiped down the last bar, a chime echoed through the room. I turned toward my computer with a sigh and hurried over, sitting down to read the e-mail that had just come through.
It was from Anne, one of the E.R. nurses I knew well. I’d only been working at the hospital for a short time but my father worked here my entire life, so I knew almost everyone on staff. Anne was a kind, older nurse, who always made sure to e-mail me when a potential PT patient came through.
Her e-mail was short and to the point:
“T—New patient came in today. Multiple injuries to his leg and a possible back fracture. Pretty rough shape. Definite PT patient. Thanks—A”
I groaned and leaned my head back against my chair. Part of me wanted to rush out of the office and get to bed, but I knew no other PT would be available to see the patient tonight. I scolded myself for doing it, but I typed out a response to Anne’s e-mail:
“I’ll be down shortly to check on the patient. —Tara.”
Just as I was about to hit send, Abi peaked through the door.
“Hey Tara. Don’t worry about the new PT patient. I was downstairs when they wheeled him in and I began his report already. I know you’ve had a long day and your shift is almost over anyway.”
“Are you sure, I don’t mind staying.”
“Yes for sure. Head on home and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” I began to grab my belongings and thanked my lucky stars that I had such an awesome team to work with.
