Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel

by Zachary, Drew

  “What happened?” Neil asked softly.

  “I was trying to get a roast out of the freezer so I could make supper.” Kit sighed and decided that hurt, too. “I couldn’t reach. Tipped over and whacked my side really good. My hip hurts.”

  “Shit. Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance instead of just me?”

  “I don’t think I need a hospital.” He hoped not. Kit would do just about anything to stay out of the hospital. “I can’t get the chair back over, though.” He looked up. “And the damn freezer door is open.”

  He heard Neil murmuring something indistinct and then Neil’s voice came back full volume. “I’m in the taxi now. It shouldn’t be long. Are there any sharp pains?”

  “Not since I hit the corner of the fridge. Just dull ones. I think I pulled some muscles in my upper body.” He turned his head, trying to see where supper had landed. “Thank God we don’t have a dog.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Dog would be licking me and eating my supper. That would be awkward.” Kit couldn’t see the roast. “Careful when you come in. There’s a frozen hunk of meat around here somewhere.” He gasped as pain rolled through his hip and down his thigh. Shifting around was bad, clearly.

  “You all right? Kit?” He could hear the concern in Neil’s voice as the man spoke to someone. “Could you go faster, please? I’ll throw in an extra five.”

  “Don’t get in a wreck.” Kit swallowed hard. “I’m okay. Just banged up a bit, is all.” He hoped they got there soon, though. The floor was cold and hard, and Neil knew how to help him move.

  “We won’t. We’re almost there.” It was quiet a moment, and then Neil asked. “So, what’s for supper?”

  “Roast beef. If it didn’t slide right into the living room, anyway. Are you a vegetarian?”

  “Me? No. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, it would suck if you had a moral objection to the reason I got myself in this mess.” Kit smiled slightly. “Stupid roast is going to be great smothered in garlic and mushrooms.”

  Neil chuckled softly. “Sounds good. It would be perfect with baked potatoes and green bean salad.”

  “And a cherry pie.” Kit held himself still, resisting the urge to try to roll over. “Are you almost here?”

  “Pulling up as we speak. Hold tight.”

  Neil’s voice got distant again and then he heard the sound of the door opening -- thank God his father hadn’t locked it -- and Neil called out, “Kit?”

  “Right here.” He turned off his phone and started at the open freezer door. “By the wheelchair and the roast. Come on in.”

  “Oh, man, that looks like it was painful on the way down.”

  “I’ve had better falls.” Too many, in fact.

  Neil bent by him, shaking his head. “I know you’re not going to like it, but I should call for an ambulance. We need to get you on a backboard and let a doctor check you out before you start moving around.”

  Kit closed his eyes. “I’m cold. I think I jammed my hip pretty bad. But I really, really...” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He stared hard at Neil, trying to make him understand. “Please don’t make me go back to the hospital.”

  “Look, I’ll stay with you every step of the way and do my best to make sure they don’t keep you overnight, but you don’t want to jeopardize your recovery. You’re going to walk again -- yes, it’s going to take hard work and be a pain in your ass, but you are going to get there. If this fall shifted something that could change that, we need to know, and we need to keep you immobile until we’re sure you’re okay.”

  Closing his eyes again Kit nodded once, gritting his teeth hard. “Don’t call my father. Not yet. We’ll wait and see. He gets home around six-fifteen, so I’ll have to call him at his office if I’m still at the hospital. So he doesn’t freak out.” God damn it all, anyway. “Where’s the roast? Do you see it?”

  Neil disappeared for a moment and then came back with the roast in hand. “I’m going to put it back in the freezer. With any luck we’ll have you home with a couple bags of take-out before your dad gets back.”

  The freezer door closed, and Neil sat next to him, opening his phone. “Hi, this is Neil Kirkpatrick with City Hospital. I’m at the home of Kit Matheson. He’s had a fall, and I need an ambulance and a backboard at this address, please. We need to make sure he hasn’t re-injured himself.”

  When he’d hung up the phone, Neil grabbed his hand and held on. It was blessedly warm. “They’ll be here soon, and I’ll stay with you all the way. Are you cold? Do you need some water?”

  Kit nodded. “Cold. No water.” The idea of putting any fluids into his body and then having to deal with relieving himself was just too much. It was all too much. He’d been up and down all day, not knowing what to think, which way to go, where to direct his anger and his pain. “I want... I want...” He wanted his life back. His legs back. But there wasn’t any point to saying it. “I was trying to be useful.”

  “You tipped yourself out of the chair, eh?” Neil let go of his hand and stood. “Where would I find a blanket?”

  “My room.” Kit pointed in the general direction of the hall. “First door on the left.”

  “’Kay. Be right back.” Neil’s legs disappeared from view. “Don’t go anywhere,” he threw back over his shoulder.

  “That’s really funny,” Kit called after him. “Hilarious. You should quit your day job and take that on the road.”

  “I’ll have you know we in the medical profession are famous for our gallows humor.” Neil was back a moment later with the quilt from his bed, lying it gently around him.

  “I survived the gallows once. More or less.” Kit shifted his weight slightly and tried to hide the wince as pain moved up his back. “Pulled muscles for sure. Sorry to take you away from your lunch.” Only slightly sorry, really, but he wasn’t going to lie on the floor and be a total ass to the guy who came to help him.

  “Don’t move! Seriously. That’s what the backboard is for. You just stay there. And don’t worry about my lunch -- it’ll keep.”

  “It’s hard not to move.” Kit tried, though. “The body rebels at not moving.” He’d spent a long time not being able to shift at all, weeks of been strapped and harnessed and then more weeks of being nudged into as few movements as possible to test his abilities. “It’s a wonder I don’t fall out of bed every night, for all the moving I do. You ever had bedsores?”

  “No, I never have. I’ve had patients with them, though. Not fun, I know.” Neil took his hand again. “They should be here any minute now.”

  “I hope to fu--God that they don’t use the siren.” Kit could just imagine the neighbors’ reaction to that. “This sucks so much.”

  As if on cue, sirens sounded in the background.

  “Sorry, Kit. They need to get here as quickly as possible, and they need the sirens for that.”

  Kit groaned. “Call my dad. Now. Someone else will.” He wanted to cry. All he’d managed to do was screw up one thing after another all day. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d just drug him out of his brains until... well, until the whole nightmare of his life was over with.

  Neil grabbed his phone. “His number’s here?”

  “Uh-huh. Under ‘D’.” Kit bit his lip as he heard medics coming in and kept his eyes closed until they started talking to him.

  As they got him onto the backboard and put the collar around his neck, he could hear Neil in the background, assuring his father that everything was okay; they were just being cautious.

  Kit answered questions and tried not to be a jerk. The medics, in turn, were efficient and careful and warned him before they lifted him up. He still felt like an idiot, though. “Lock up, please, Neil?” he said as he headed to the door, gaze on the ceiling.

  “I’ve got your back, Kit.”

  That, too, almost made Kit cry. He had no choice but to believe it. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s go.” He sighed, closed his eyes, and hoped the ride to the hospital wo
uld be quick.

  Chapter Three

  Neil sat by Kit’s bed in the ER, reading a magazine as he waited for the doctor to show up to release Kit. It was late, but Kit didn’t want to stay, and Neil couldn’t blame the man. He was glad Kit had managed to fall asleep a while ago, though.

  He’d drive Kit home once they got out and stop somewhere to grab some supper. Kit had to be starving; he knew he was.

  “Dad?” Kit’s voice was muffled, both quiet and slurred. A moment later he said, more clearly, “Oh. Right.”

  “It’s Neil.” He found Kit’s hand and took it, squeezed. “We’re still at the hospital. Nancy assured me Dr. Guy will be here soon.”

  “Then I can go home?” Kit sounded almost like a kid, hoping. “Is it late at night? Did you talk to my dad again?”

  “You can go home as soon as the doctor signs the papers. You’re fine. Just a bit of bruising. Yes, it’s late, and yes, I talked to your dad. He said he’d leave the door open so I can help you get in without waking him up.”

  “Okay.” Kit adjusted his blanket with one hand, not looking up to Neil’s face. “Was he upset? Like, worried?”

  “Of course he was worried. I think I managed to convince him that you were fine, though.”

  “Thanks.” Kit’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “He worries too much. I didn’t help at all this time.”

  “He’s your dad; worrying goes with the territory.” He squeezed Kit’s hand again, offering support.

  “It’s reversed. I’m supposed to be worrying about him now. I’m supposed to be getting my life all... out of his house. And making him go to singles dances and out on coffee dates with women I can compare to my mother. He’s not supposed to be doing my laundry again, and driving me all over the place, and being the only one I talk to, other than doctors.” Kit didn’t seem to be noticing the hand squeezes, or at least wasn’t telling him to stop.

  “Shit happens, Kit. I’m sure your father would rather have to do all that stuff than bury you.” Maybe that was harsh, but it was the truth.

  Kit took his hand away. “I know. Where’s the doctor?”

  “He’ll be here as soon as he can. You should try to rest some more. Sleep is good for you.”

  “I’m hungry.” His gaze flicked to Neil and then away. “Not whining. Just stating. I can’t sleep when I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll stop for food on our way back to your place. Hell, if you’re feeling up to it, we can go to this all-night diner close by. Otherwise we’ll hit a drive-through.”

  “Drive-through is fine.” Kit’s look moved to the foot of his bed where a man in a white coat was approaching. “Are you my doctor?”

  “This time.” He nodded hello to Neil and offered his hand. “Dr. Stephen Guy. Ready to get out of here?”

  “God, yes.” Kit was looking around, apparently for a wheelchair. “Now?”

  “Sure. As long as you call us or come back if you have sudden, sharp pain. Other than that, you’re all set. Do you have a ride home?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got him.” Neil stood and held out his hand. “Neil Kirkpatrick. I know Brian.”

  “My Brian?” A broad smile crossed the doctor’s face, and he shook hands. “I’m late getting home to him, actually. Nice to meet you.”

  Kit was looking back and forth between the two of them.

  “Yeah, your Brian. And we certainly won’t keep you -- Kit’s anxious to get home. Say hey to Brian for me.”

  “Will do.” Stephen smiled at them both, gave Neil a little bottle of pills, wished Kit a good night, and headed off to the nurses’ station, presumably to do paperwork.

  “Who is his Brian?” Kit asked.

  “He’s an EMT and Stephen’s partner.” Neil pocketed the painkillers. “I have your chair, lemme just go get it.”

  “Was he one of the EMTs at my place today?” Kit looked wildly curious for the first time Neil could remember.

  “No, he wasn’t. Why?”

  “No reason. You’re...” He paused while he pulled his legs around and got himself sitting properly to transfer to his chair. “You’re really relaxed with the idea of them being together. The whole ‘my Brian’ thing.”

  “Well, I’d like to think I’d be relaxed about it anyway, but as it happens, I’m gay.”

  “Huh.” Kit gave him a long look. “I can usually tell. Maybe the accident smacked my senses around, too.” He shook his head and set his shoulders, apparently ready for his chair. “I am, too. Just so you know.”

  He thought maybe it was more a matter of Kit just not caring before now, and he took it as a good sign that Kit was starting to notice this kind of thing.

  “Cool. It’s always good to meet family.”

  “Speaking of family, I need to get home to mine.” Kit sighed. “I am going to hurt tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Have you got some painkillers at home?” He started wheeling Kit out.

  “All kinds. All the kinds there are.” Kit took a breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you for coming when I called.”

  “Anytime, Kit. And I mean that.” He was sorry that Kit didn’t have any friends who had stayed around long enough to help, but he was glad to have been there.

  “Hopefully never again.” Kit shivered as they got outside. “I think I’ll wait a while before I try to make supper again.”

  “If you want, I can spend some time with you -- set up your kitchen, teach you how to reach, how to work the various appliances from the chair.”

  “We had someone in for that. It’s the stuff that can’t change that’s a problem. I can’t reach into the freezer, and we can’t afford a new one. The range knobs are too far away to turn off when the burner is hot. That kind of thing.”

  “You know there’s grants for that kind of thing, right?”

  “I thought the plan was for me not to need to stay in the chair.” Kit looked up at him. “I’m not going to remodel my father’s house and make it all lovely for me. It’s not my house. I am not going to be living there forever.”

  Neil grinned down at Kit. “I like that attitude, man. That’s what’s going to get you moving faster than anything.”

  Kit nodded. “I’m... I don’t want to be rude. I really don’t. But I’m sore and exhausted and hungry, and while I really appreciate you giving me a lift home, along with everything else you did today, can we kind of... hurry up?”

  Neil bit back his laughter. “You got it.” He wheeled Kit over to the staff parking lot.

  “Do you think I’ll be able to do therapy tomorrow? I can already feel things hurting and getting tight, and that’s with the painkillers.”

  “And it’s really late.” Neil thought about it for a bit. “Tell you what. I finish at three tomorrow and I can do my paperwork during your scheduled appointment. So I can drop by around three-thirty and work on some stretches with you to help ease the stiffness and make sure we aren’t falling backward.”

  Kit seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded. “All right. There’s enough room in the living room to do that. I’ll let Dad know.” Kit looked up at him again. “You know he’s waiting up, right?”

  “I figured as much, though I told him not to.” He helped Kit get into the front seat, then folded down the wheelchair and tossed it in the back seat.

  When Neil got in the car, Kit had his seatbelt done up and was leaning back with his eyes closed. “You’ll find,” Kit said, not opening his eyes, “that my father is as stubborn as I am. It’s one of the many ways we’re alike and a prime reason why we shouldn’t live together as adults for any longer than we need to. We love each other too much to ruin our relationship by sharing space.”

  “It’s great that he can be there for you, though, at a time like this.” A lot of families fell apart over this kind of thing.

  “We’re kind of used to pulling together. Us against the world. I’m an only child, and when my mom died...” Kit’s voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Well, anyway.” He looked over. “Enough o
f that.”

  Neil reached out and gave Kit’s arm a squeeze before starting up the car. “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, years ago.” Kit’s eyes were open, but he was looking out his window as they pulled out of the space. “I was almost nineteen. Coming up on ten years, I guess.”

  “That’s a tough time to lose a parent.” Neil snorted. “Sorry, I can’t think of a good time.”

  “That’s for sure.” Kit nodded. “It was really hard on my dad. I did what I could. I keep waiting for him to find someone new, but he doesn’t seem to want to. It worries me.”

  “Is he depressed?”

  “I don’t think so. Just doesn’t have an interest in dating. And now he’s putting all his time into taking care of me, which sucks.”

  “Before you got hurt, did he have interests outside the home?”

  “Sure.” Kit’s fingers moved on his leg, rubbing absently and working a crease into his jeans. “He went out with buddies once in a while for dinners or a game, and he has a poker night. He goes to the gym.”

  “It sounds like he had a pretty full life, outside interests -- maybe he just doesn’t want to find anyone else.”

  “Maybe not. But he’s not even sixty, and that’s a lot of life left to spend alone, you know? I worry.”

  “Sounds like he’s as lucky to have you as you are to have him.” Neil pulled into the Tim Horton’s drive-through. “So, what do you want to eat?”

  “Tuna, I guess. And a Boston Creme doughnut. No coffee.” Kit patted his pockets. “I can never remember which pocket I put my wallet in anymore.”

  Neil put the order in for a tuna and an egg salad sandwich, both on croissants, and a Boston Creme doughnut and an everything cookie for himself, along with a milk. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he told Kit once he’d confirmed the order with the scratchy voice coming out of the box.

  “I’ll get the next one.” Kit found his wallet in his shirt pocket and glared at it. “The moment I can easily shift my hips and lift my butt, this is going back where it belongs.”

  Neil laughed, the words surprising him.