Chapter 10 - THE FIRST STEP
The new neurological assessment brought unexpected news.
My injury had been severe, but the updated imaging and examination suggested some preserved pathways.
Dr. Mercer was cautious.
“There may be potential for functional improvement.”
I stared at him.
“Walking?”
“Possibly some recovery with rehabilitation. But we can't predict how much.”
I looked toward Faith.
She smiled.
Not triumphantly.
Not as though she had performed a miracle.
Just hopefully.
The rehabilitation program began the following week.
It was brutal.
Exercises.
Transfers.
Strength training.
Pain management.
Hours of work for movements most people never thought about.
Some days I improved.
Other days I couldn't complete tasks I had managed the week before.
I hated those days.
Faith didn't pretend they were easy.
She also refused to let me take my frustration out on her.
One afternoon, after I shouted at a therapist, she approached me.
“You owe him an apology.”
I glared.
“He doesn't understand.”
“Then explain it. Don't punish him.”
I looked away.
She waited.
Finally, I called the therapist back.
And apologized.
Three months later, with braces and parallel bars, I managed several supported steps.
My legs shook.
Sweat poured down my face.
The effort left me exhausted.
But I had moved.
I looked toward Faith.
She was crying.
I laughed breathlessly.
“Thought you didn't do pity.”
She wiped her cheeks.
May you like
“This isn't pity, idiot.”
For the first time in six months, I laughed until I couldn't breathe.
