Chapter 3 - THE FIRST FALL
By the end of the first week, Massimo hated me.
At least, that's what he said.
He hated the exercises.
The schedule.
The fatigue.
The fact that I made him rest.
He especially hated the way I refused to praise him for doing the bare minimum.
“You're impossible,” he muttered one morning.
I checked the therapy timer.
“Three more repetitions.”
“I'm paying you fifty thousand dollars.”
“And you're getting your money's worth.”
He glared.
I smiled.
Then he did the repetitions.
Progress came slowly.
His spinal cord injury was incomplete, meaning some pathways remained functional.
But recovery was unpredictable.
His legs showed small voluntary movements.
His trunk control improved.
He tolerated longer periods upright.
Some days, he managed tasks that had seemed impossible the week before.
Other days, pain and fatigue forced us to stop early.
I documented everything.
Massimo read every note.
At first, he seemed offended by the clinical language.
Then he began asking questions.
“What does this score mean?”
“How much improvement is realistic?”
“What happens if I never walk without assistance?”
I answered honestly.
One afternoon, we practiced a supported transfer with a second trained staff member present.
Massimo became frustrated.
He pushed too quickly.
His balance shifted.
The transfer failed, and we guided him safely back into the chair.
He slammed his fist against the armrest.
“Damn it!”
I stepped back.
“Take a minute.”
“I don't need a minute.”
“You do.”
His eyes flashed.
“Don't tell me what I need.”
I looked at him.
“Then stop pretending anger can replace muscle control.”
The room went silent.
Massimo stared.
Then his shoulders dropped.
He covered his face.
“I used to carry people out of burning buildings.”
I sat beside him.
“And now you need help getting out of a chair.”
He nodded.
I waited.
Finally, he whispered:
“I hate being this person.”
I looked at him.
“You're not a different person because you need help.”
He didn't answer.
“You're still responsible for your choices. Still capable of learning. Still allowed to be angry.”
I paused.
“But you don't get to punish yourself for being injured.”
Massimo looked at me.
May you like
His eyes were wet.
For the first time, he didn't hide it.
