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I’m sure she doesn’t like crying in front of patients, but I wish she would allow herself to do it just this once. Seeing someone be this happy because ofmyprogress is a gift in and of itself. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when Adas sees me.
“You’re amazing. I hope you know that. We’ve had patients with far less severe injuries take years to walk again. You have so much determination. I admire that in you,” the doctor says, still grinning ear to ear.
“So, do you think I’ll be walking unassisted all the time soon? How long does that usually take?” I ask her, desperate to find out now that the hardest part of the visit is over.
She clicks through a few pages on her screen. “Um, I mean, it’s hard to say. You’ll need to keep building strength in your legs. That’s the number one priority. If you have no muscle in your legs, nothing your brain tells it will matter.”
I nod emphatically, hoping that her next statement will be something hopeful rather than challenging.
“Will I ever be able to run again? I’ve watched a few documentaries about athletes who were injured like I am. Some of them learn to run again without any legs!” I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how excited I am.
“I mean, I like to believe that anything is possible in these cases. People like you prove to my colleagues and me that the human mind is an amazing, dynamic thing. If you don’t give up, I can definitely see you running in the not-so-distant future,” she replies.
I take a deep breath in, feeling all of my worries and anxieties dissolve and release. I feel so much lighter now, like I’ve had a thousand pounds of weight taken off my shoulders.
The doctor checks my reflexes, bending my legs up and down to make sure that they’re still working properly despite seeing me walk. I understand that it’s just procedural, which calms me after a brief moment of defensiveness.
“So, how are things with your husband?” she asks as she continues typing away at her computer.
“Oh, you know, they’re... a little weird,” I reply, feeling a bit stupid at the way I’ve phrased my response.
She raises an eyebrow, pausing her typing and turning towards me again. “What kind of weird? Is there something that could be impeding your progress?” she asks, her voice striking a maternal, protective tone.
“Um, I mean, he’s just gone for work a lot, and it makes me feel kind of like a house cat.”
Her expression is suspicious, but she knows better than to press too hard for more information. She needs to use tact to avoid scaring me away. “What does he do for work?” she asks, re-opening the tab that she had been typing at.
Oh shit, she’s putting this in my chart?
“Uh, he’s in sales, like I said before,” I stammer. “He’s just not the most, um... emotionally gifted person ever. It’s really nothing too crazy.”
Her voice returns to that same jovial, cheery tone, but her eyes defy her. “Alright, well, I want you to know that there are women here at the clinic that you can talk to if you’re ever in a bad situation. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to one of us if you ever need it.”
I nod awkwardly, trying as hard as I can not to slap myself in the face for saying anything at all.
The doctor releases me with my paperwork stating that I’m free to practice walking with crutches now, which she provides me with before I leave.
Having someone look at me with so much misdirected pity feels viscerally off-putting, but I’m not sure why. Adas might be impossible to reason with sometimes, and he’s not the most tactful person on the planet, but he’s only done as much as he can to provide for me. I mean, the doctor should have been able to see that I was doing home visits before, where all of my equipment was paid for by Adas. That alone should have shown her I’m in good hands.
Right?
Or is that why she asked?
It doesn’t matter. I’m out of the appointment, and now I’m on my way back home to continue practicing my therapy exercises so that I can surprise Adas when he gets home from Mexico.
All I want right now is to tell Adas all about my progress, all about how soon we’ll be walking through forests and beaches together.
On the way out, I try to call him, but the call goes straight to voicemail.
“Damn it,” I say to myself, hanging up the call and wheeling myself over to the elevator doors that I came up through.
The ride back from the doctor’s office is uneventful as it was before, but now there’s a renewed sense of purpose in me. If I can walk soon, I’ll be able to get my full life back. I’ll be able to explore the city on my own, taking walks and even driving a car eventually. I’m sure Adas wouldn’t want me driving one of his expensive foreign sports cars, but I’ll work up to that, I’m sure.
20
RIVER
When I arrive back at the estate, I feel lonelier than ever, knowing that Adas won’t be here to see me walk for an unspecified duration of time. I know that he needs me to be flexible and understanding, but it’s gotten so hard having him away in Mexico without knowing when I’ll see him again. I can’t even call him; his cell service has been awful since he left.
