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He grinned. “I can learn. Might be a cool skill to have.”
Indeed it was. “I’ll consider it.”
She’d no sooner shooed Connor off when Amelia Thorpe’s shadow fell across the threshold. “I need to ask your opinion about Rory’s progress.”
Vivi held in her agitated sigh and put down her pen. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to chat, but she knew this pattern—if she didn’t establish guidelines soon, every minute of her day would be folks dropping in. “You’re his physical therapist. I’m not sure what I can offer.”
“May I?” Dr. Thorpe motioned to come in. Vivi nodded and the woman advanced to her desk, glancing around for a seat. This was why she didn’t have any. She stood awkwardly, wringing her hands. “He was making great strides until a week ago. He’s hit a plateau and seems reluctant to push past it.”
Vivi leaned back in her chair and rocked it, just because she could. To have a nice, leather chair. A beautiful desk. These were luxuries she’d once taken for granted. Never again. “What is your opinion?”
Thorpe looked to be in her thirties with smooth taupe colored skin and dark hair that she parted in the center. She pushed up the glasses on the end of her nose, a nervous tick, Vivi guessed. “I think it’s me.”
Vivi cocked an eyebrow, asking a silent question.
The therapist fidgeted, worrying a ring on her middle finger. “Something has changed between us. He’s always a bit gruff, but all of a sudden, he’s… Well, he doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t joke like he used to. It’s almost as if he’s forcing himself to even be in the same room with me. He told me today that he’s never going to walk again and it’s a waste of both our times. He won’t be coming for any more sessions. I should forget about him and help the others.”
You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. “You know of nothing specific that’s caused his sudden reticence? Have you spoken to any of his friends? Beatrice? They might have insight for you.”
Her eyes were sad. “Seems he’s acting the same with all of them.”
Letting her brain replay the conversation, as well as considering her own interactions with him, she continued to rock. “How long has he been in a wheelchair?”
“Over three years.”
“How have you managed to get him on his feet?”
“Nerve stimulation, better nutrition, water therapy, weights. It’s nothing unusual or different, it’s that he never wanted to try before.”
“What made him decide he wanted to walk now, after all this time?”
“I’m not sure. He avoided me for months after I came to work here, then he saw several of the other men recovering from injuries and getting stronger. I think it gave him hope.”
Or maybe he liked the pretty therapist, and now that he was on the brink of actually regaining his freedom from that chair, he was facing a new fear—rejection. “The mind plays a huge role in recovery, whether it be from physical, emotional, or mental trauma. We believe we want something, only to hit a wall when we actually see it’s a possibility. The chair may have become a crutch. It offers him a form of support, literally, and reassurance mentally.”
Her brows scrunched together. “I wondered about that possibility, but surely he wants to walk again.”
“Subconsciously, maybe not, so he’s sabotaging himself, staying in his comfort zone.”
“What should I do?”
“You can’t force him to show up for therapy. Either he gets past his fear of success or he doesn’t. Sounds like seeing others healing and getting stronger—getting their lives back—inspired him before. Maybe it will again.”
“That’s it? You’re telling me to leave him alone?”
A layer of helplessness laced the therapist’s words. “I know it’s hard to step back and let someone work through their issues. What I’m suggesting is you use some of your other patients to motivate him again. Subtly, of course. He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who likes to be told what to do, but I bet his coworkers could get him to the gym with a bit of gloating about their own progress, sprinkled with a challenge or two.”
As understanding sunk in, she smiled. “Okay. How exactly do I recruit them?”
In her line of work, she couldn’t be subtle. She had to instruct her patients what to do and how to do it. “How about you let me handle it?”
Relief crossed her face. “I can’t thank you enough. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“I could use some of my muscle mass back. Could you give me a set of exercises and weight training tips to do that?”
Her smile lit up her face and she snapped her fingers. “I’m on it. Meet me at the gym at four, okay?”
“Can you just give me a list?” She’d have to borrow some workout clothes. “I want to try a few on my own.”
