Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel (2 page)

At night, after his father had gone to bed and the TV was shut off, Kit could lie in bed and imagine the same things. He could pretend he had his own apartment again, had a job, had a life. In the dark, it was a little easier than in the morning.

The rest of his time, however, was one jarring moment after another. The constant ache in his hip. The headaches. The way the skin on his arms looked. The red marks that hadn’t faded away yet. The lawyer calling with non-updates and the silence of the phone otherwise. The callus on his hand from his wheelchair.

The wheelchair. The wheelchair. Not his. Just a chair. It would never be his.

Kit sat at the kitchen table and ate his breakfast, carefully spacing out his multivitamins with his allotted pain medication for the day. His father had already left for work, hesitating at the door before he finally stepped out. He hated leaving Kit at home all alone for hours.

Kit hated making his father be a daddy again. The man had earned his life the hard way, and now he was saddled with Kit again, needing more than ever.

“Not fair,” Kit told his cereal bowl. His therapist -- head variety -- had told him he had to let all notions of fairness go, but Kit was resisting. To give up the mantra of “It’s not fair” felt too close to forgiveness. It wasn’t fair, and Kit wasn’t going to forgive. Ever.

He was, however, going to make his father’s life a little easier and take the god damn bus to god damn therapy with god damn Nice Neil. Kit told his cereal bowl, “But I’m not gonna like it,” and drank his milk. So there.

His cell phone rang just as he was finishing up his breakfast. The number showed it was Neil.

Kit took the call and said, “Right on time, I see.” He’d have to get to the window to see if the bus was actually there, but it was a safe bet.

“We’re outside. Did you want me to come in and give you a hand?”

Kit closed his eyes briefly. This part was always so hard. “Well, I’m in my chair and just need to grab my wallet and house key, so that’s okay. But if you can come to the door and help me with navigation, that would be good. We’re still working on the finer points of accessibility.”

“I’ll meet you at the front door, then.” Neil sounded so fucking cheerful.

“Great.” Kit hung up and decided he didn’t care if he sounded resigned. He was, after all, just getting through each day as it presented itself to him. At least his morning pills were starting to kick in.

He looked around the kitchen, made sure the oven was off, and wheeled himself over to the door at an angle. There was just enough room at the end of the counter for him and his chair, and no room for anything else, so he had to get the angle just right.

There was a knock on the door, Neil’s voice calling out. “You okay, Kit?”

“No, I got lost.” Kit rolled his eyes and opened the door, pushing his chair back as he did so, using the door as leverage. “This is how it works,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “You step back, I roll out. Then you step into the house and I get myself around the corner to the ramp, and you close the door behind us. Make sure it’s locked, please.”

“I can do that.” Neil gave him a smile and stepped back out of the way.

Kit double checked that he had both his house key and his wallet, then rolled forward, squinting into the daylight. He navigated the corner slowly, painfully. He’d been told that he’d get better at it, that it was like driving, but he’d also been told not to get used to the chair because he’d be walking in no time at all. Everything was bullshit as far as he was concerned.

He heard the door close behind him, then Neil’s footsteps following him down the ramp. “There’s no shame in asking for help if you need it.”

“So they keep telling me.” Kit glanced up at him and then looked away to navigate the ramp. “It still pisses me off, though. I shouldn’t have to ask. I shouldn’t be like this.”

“Yeah, but you are.”

“And I’m supposed to be all sunny side up about it.” Kit snorted as he made the end of the ramp at speed and headed toward the large van that was his bus. “Sorry, but I’m not feeling my blessings right now, and I’m a lousy actor.”

“I just think it takes a hell of a lot more energy grumping about it and resenting it, and you could be putting that energy into your life.”

Kit had heard it all before, from more than one doctor. His father knew better than to approach the subject. “How about you handle your energy your way, and I’ll handle mine.” He stopped his chair next to the bus and eyed the chair lift with dislike. “All right. Let’s do this, at least.” If he was going to do therapy, he was going to have to get there. Fighting that, at least, was stupid.

“I’m just trying to help, Kit. I know I haven’t been through this myself, but I do have the benefit of the experience of helping a lot of other people through it.”

Neil got him on the lift, put the belt across it, and hit the button that started it moving up.

“Help me teach my legs to do what they’re supposed to.” Kit had other doctors for the rest -- not that he was listening to them, either.

“That I can definitely do.” Neil grinned and got his chair into the bus, the ramp pulling up into the bottom half of the door.

“Are you always cheerful?” Kit asked before he could stop himself. Maybe Neil was a morning person and got crabby late in the day.

“Nope. But I try to be.”

“Huh.” There wasn’t really anything more to say to that, Kit figured, so he looked at the driver and nodded a hello. “How long is the drive, Neil?”

“Less than ten minutes. Door to door service -- can’t fault that.”

Kit grunted, which was rude even for him. “Sorry,” he said, trying not to sigh. “Thank you for coming by for me. My dad really appreciates it, I know.”

“It’ll take a load off for both of you.” Neil patted his shoulder.

Kit forced himself not to shudder or throw off the touch. His therapist said that his reaction to having people touch him was related to how much he’d needed in the earliest days, in the hospital, and that it would fade over time. Also, he knew that Neil was going to be touching him a lot more as they worked together. Neil had been good about it the last time they’d had therapy, so Kit did his best.

“As long as Dad can work and do what he needs to do.” That was all that Kit needed, right then. An easier life for his dad.

“You let me know if there’s other stuff we can help out with that’ll make life better for you and your Dad, okay? There’s a lot of resources out there.”

Kit bit at his lip and nodded. “Mostly it’s just stuff like this. Making me independent of him so he can still have a life. He shouldn’t need to take care of me all the time.”

“No, but he’s there for you -- he wants to be. Don’t shut him out totally.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t.” Not his dad. That was all he had left. “But he works all day, comes home and cooks for me, helps me do the dishes, helps me make my lunch for the next day, does the laundry ‘cause I can’t reach... it’s just so much for him.”

“You’ll get there, Kit. Your prognosis is so good. You’ll be helping out in no time.”

Kit closed his eyes so Neil wouldn’t see them rolling. “We’ll see.” The pain meds were doing their job, though, and the constant pressure he felt was easing off a little. “Maybe.”

The bus pulled up by one of the hospital entrances. “Here we are -- didn’t take long at all, did it?”

No, it really hadn’t. Great.

Kit nodded and sat up a little straighter in his chair, trying to look like he was eager to get right to it. He used to love working out.

Between the driver and Neil, they had him out of the bus and through the doors in no time. Neil let him wheel himself down the hall to the elevators. “You ready for a hard workout? I’ve put together a pretty vigorous regimen for you.”

Kit looked up at Neil, not bothering to hide his grimace. “I assume you took into account how fast I hurt and how tired my arms get?”

“Yep. I’ve got cool down times, hot-tub time, as well as work at the bars. I know what I’m doing, Kit.” Neil pressed the button for the elevator.

“Sorry,” Kit mumbled. “It just...” He shut up. He wasn’t going to say he was worried about the pain getting worse. He wasn’t going to tell this guy he was scared.

“What? Hey, man, if you have concerns, you need to tell me. I’m not a mind reader, okay?”

“It gets frustrating. Having everyone in my life planning things for me to do. I don’t have much control over anything right now.” There. True and enough of a share. Kit looked at the numbers above the elevator and willed the doors to open.

They opened, but that didn’t stop Neil from answering. “I can see that. We can adjust your schedule, your workouts, as we find out what works for you. I’ll consult you.”

Kit looked up at Neil, probably a little too fast. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. This is your recovery, Kit.”

“But I’m your patient. And everyone else’s.” He did roll his eyes then. “Can we go in now?”

Neil opened the door to the therapy room for him. “After you.”

Kit pushed at his wheels and moved into the room. His second time and he was already starting to hate it, even though Neil had put some personal touches into it. “Okay. Ready.” Ready or not, here he was.

***

They fell into a pattern, Neil grabbing the parabus and going to help Kit get to the hospital. They’d do the physio, and then Kit would head on to other appointments while Neil worked with his other patients.

Neil thought it was going pretty well.

Today would be the test -- he hadn’t gone with the bus to get Kit and could only hope that didn’t mean Kit decided to skip it today. It was important, though, that Kit could do this on his own. If the man didn’t want to get well, he wasn’t going to.

He glanced at his watch and forced himself to stay seated at his desk and not go look out the window to see if he could tell if the bus had been by yet. A few times he could hear low voices from the nurses’ station, but he couldn’t make out words, not even enough to hear if any of the voices were male.

Finally, about three minutes before Kit’s appointment time, a nurse walked past Neil’s door alongside Kit’s wheelchair, taking him to the therapy room. Kit didn’t look in or say anything, and he was gone too fast for Neil to see his face. At least he’d arrived.

Neil gave the man a couple of minutes -- long enough for Kit to settle in, not long enough for him to start fretting -- then grabbed his clipboard and Kit’s file and headed for the therapy room.

When Neil opened the door, Kit was facing away from it, looking at the bar he used to pull himself up and support his weight like it was new and interesting object he’d never seen before, instead of an item he’d been using long before he’d met Neil. He didn’t look over or give any indication at all that he’d heard Neil come in.

It gave Neil a moment to really look at Kit. The man had shaved this morning, or maybe last night, his face quite handsome without the scraggly beard. Neil could easily be attracted to Kit; even the grumpy attitude had an odd sort of appeal. Or at least it would, if weren’t the only aspect of the man’s personality that Kit had shared so far.

“Morning, Kit,” Neil called out, heading right over.

Kit said nothing, but he did turn to look, his face blank. He didn’t look mad or upset, just perfectly neutral. That was the attitude Neil didn’t like, the nothingness.

Neil touched Kit’s shoulder. “How’re you doing this morning, man?”

“Fine.” Kit’s voice was as neutral as his face. “What’s the goal today?”

It made him wonder what was up -- well, it also made him want to send that neutral expression scurrying. “Same as yesterday, plus one on every exercise.”

“All right.” Kit reached for the bar and carefully pulled himself up, giving the work all of his attention.

Neil moved around to the other end and came forward until he was about three steps in front of Kit. It was enough room to catch Kit if he had to, but at the same time he wasn’t crowding Kit, either.

Kit pulled himself, painfully slowly, along the bars and then turned. Neil trotted around to face Kit again.

He waited until Kit was about halfway along before speaking. “You got anything on your mind today?”

“You didn’t tell me that you weren’t coming this morning.” Kit kept moving, his face tight as he worked.

No, he hadn’t. “I wanted to see what would happen if your routine changed on you, even just a little bit. It’s important that you’re prepared for when things don’t go like you’re expecting them to.” He also had to admit -- to himself at least -- that he’d been worried Kit would cancel if he knew Neil wasn’t going to be there this morning.

Kit got to the end and turned himself again before speaking. “Routine.” He nodded sharply. “Got it. Everything is a fucking routine, and it doesn’t matter if it’s fucking courtesy to let someone know. And now I know where I fit. Thanks.”

“And where exactly is it that you fit?” Neil kept his voice calm, easy.

Kit struggled toward the far end, his breathing hard. “Patient. Full stop. Problem to be solved.”

Neil stepped close enough to keep Kit from taking another step. He put his hand on Kit’s, curled around it. “You’re not a problem to be solved; you’re a human being to be helped. That’s my job, Kit, and it’s one I enjoy because I care about my patients. I care about you.”

Kit snatched his hand away and promptly fell with an abrupt cry, unable to bear his own weight or to catch himself again on the bar. “Don’t touch me!” He pulled himself away from Neil, dragging his body by his arms for a few inches before stopping. “Don’t!”

“Let me help you, Kit. Please.” He didn’t touch Kit again, though; he waited for permission.

“No.” Kit had his eyes closed tight and he was still breathing hard, though Neil couldn’t be sure if he was in pain from the fall, the therapy, or something else. “Leave me alone.” He wasn’t whining, but he was clearly in distress.

“Your choice is me or a nurse, and you have five seconds to decide you want the nurse instead of me.” Kit clearly needed help; Neil was going to give it.

“I can get into my chair on my own.” Kit didn’t sound so sure, though.

“You’ll reinjure something, and I’m not letting you do that just because you’re pissed off at me.”