Little Moments

by Madison Street

  As she steps out of the room, she looks back at us. “Oh, since you’re using the facilities here, you should go up to the third floor and make an appointment with the next available therapist.”

  We all thank her as she exits. Aunt Maggie clears the items from the dresser and the windowsill and puts them in a shopping bag. Uncle Vinny grabs hold of the wheelchair and starts pushing me toward the door.

  Just before we exit, I raise my hand. “Stop. Can you pass me the trash?”

  Aunt Maggie’s face displays her confusion. “Roman, what on earth?”

  “Just pass the garbage can please.”

  She reluctantly hands me the trash and I peek inside, seeking what I need. I stick my hand inside and pull out the Christmas tree ornament.

  Taking the trashcan from me, Aunt Maggie comments, “Oh, that’s beautiful. Where did you get that from?”

  I wipe it clean. “Melanie gave it to me.”

  She asks, “And why was it in the trash?”

  I sigh and look away from her. “Because I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re right on that account, but at least you knew to take it out.”

  A few minutes later, we arrive at the physical therapy division and make an appointment. The attending nurse informs me that my physician, Tom, will be available every day from eight AM to two PM so we schedule an hour-long appointment for three days a week. As Aunt Maggie talks to the nurse about my condition, I take a look inside and see a few patients working on their bodies. Their faces are filled with strain and torture as the therapists are stretching and pulling limbs left and right. Ah hell.

  Roman

  AS THE CAR pulls up to the curb at my aunt and uncle’s house, tears fill my eyes. I never thought I’d see the day that I would love coming home again. The house is decorated for the holidays; Uncle Vinny really outdid himself this year. Colorful lights cascade down every angle of the roof and icicle lights hang from the gutters. Reindeer perch on the lawn and an inflatable Santa waves at the neighbors.

  Uncle Vinny also managed to build a ramp for my wheelchair and Aunt Maggie made sure all the snow was completely shoveled and the sidewalks covered in salt. Once wheeled inside, the fragrant scent of the home fills my nose. The sweet smell of baked cookies travels throughout the rooms, flowing from the kitchen all the way to the front door. Closing my eyes, I inhale, breathing in the sweet scent, letting my senses take over completely.

  Christmas music plays at a low volume in the background and the lit Christmas tree shines under the dazzling star. Aunt Maggie pushes me inside, removing my hat and coat, and I wheel myself further into the living room.

  The rest of the day is complete bliss. Aunt Maggie makes her delicious lasagna, which I inhale in two bites. Uncle Vinny and I spend time catching up on old TV shows and the New York sports teams. There’s always that battle on the best baseball team. Every time that topic of conversation arises, Aunt Maggie hides. Can you blame her? He also tells me about some new upgrades he’s been working on at his store and having to hire a new employee to help manage.

  Aunt Maggie gives me a little taste test of some of her new wedding cake mixes. Somehow I find my hands dipped in chocolate frosting; I feel like a kid all over again. Being home feels so wonderful and satisfying. I end up sleeping in the guest room, as I cannot use the stairs. The bed isn’t as comfortable as mine, but it’ll do for now.

  ******

  “Roman, I’ll be back in a bit to come get you. Listen to everything they say. Don’t be mean.” Aunt Maggie kisses my cheek as she exits the physical therapy center in the hospital.

  I wave at her, ready to get this thing over with. A tall slender man with blond hair and brown eyes strolls in my direction. He’s holding a patient chart, most likely mine.

  As he approaches, he extends his hand out to me with a smile. “Hi, I’m Tom. You must be Roman.”

  I take his hand and shake it firmly. “Yes, nice to meet you. So, what’s the plan of attack for today?”

  I wheel myself forward, following him inside the center.

  “Well, first let’s give you a quick tour. The center is about 3500 square feet with all sorts of areas to focus on key elements of training. There are ten therapists, each with specific backgrounds and certifications in certain aspects. Down the hall and to the left are the restrooms and the right side is the meditation room.”

  My brow arches. “Meditation?”

  “Yes, we believe that relaxation and meditation are key elements to regaining the use of the lost components of your body.”

  I shrug. “Hmm, never thought of it that way.”

  Tom continues the tour and introduces me to a few of the other therapists. Everyone is warm and welcoming. I have a good feeling about this place and so far, I am confident in their work. Tom leads me to an open floor area that is already occupied by two instructors and their patients.

  He guides me to wheel close to a wooden bench. After I approach, he helps me to sit on it as he takes a squat on the ground. The ground is padded with what looks like yoga mats, absorbing and cushioning from below.

  He reaches out for my left leg. “Okay, let’s stretch you out first.” For the next few minutes, he pulls on my leg, extending up and down, left and right. The tension burns but feels good at the same time. I brace myself with my hands firmly placed on the bench so I won’t lose my balance as he continues to stretch. He does the same with my right leg.

  “How does that feel? Any pain?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, no pain. The stretch is pulling the muscle which is uncomfortable, but not painful.”

  He nods. “Good. This is what we need, to wake up your legs again and get them back into shape. The injury to your spine left you on bed rest for a while, so we are going to focus on building up that leg muscle again. Another goal is balance. With the spine injury, balance may be a little difficult for you at first, but we’ll work on it.”

  He lets go of my leg and hops up to stand. “Now, can you lift yourself up and stand with me?”

  “I can try. I might be a little shaky.”

  “Just do your best. Come on, I’ll hold you steady.”

  I reach up for his hand and grab hold. Lifting my butt off the bench, I use my legs to push upward. My legs wobble as they adjust to the weight of my body and I try to concentrate on keeping my back straight. I’m still wearing the back brace so it adds to the difficulty. Slowly but surely, I come to a stand with the help of Tom.

  “Ready for me to let go?”

  I start to panic slightly. “Wait don’t—”

  His hand immediately lets go of mine and I stare out, trying to keep balance. The fear of falling flashes into mind as my knees start to buckle. My shaky legs give way, causing me to fall toward the mat.

  Just before I hit the ground, Tom catches me, lifting me back on the bench. Anger seethes out of me as I give him a death stare. “What the fuck man? You can’t just do that and expect me to handle it. This is the first day.”

  “Roman, we are here to rebuild you, not reinforce your disability. We will push you like you’ve never been pushed before. This is the easy part.”

  “I understand that, but at least let me get into it first. I can’t be caught off guard with shit like that.”

  “I was just evaluating your reaction time. That’s all. Come on, let’s start building those muscles again.”

  He helps me back into my wheelchair and I follow him to the weights room. There, he sets me up on another bench.

  I watch him, thinking he might pass me a weight, but he doesn’t. “So, am I going to do leg curls or something?”

  He shakes his head, sitting next to me. “Nope, this is what you’re gonna do. Lift your leg up so that it’s parallel to the bench. You are going to do this for thirty minutes on each leg.”

  My jaw drops. “Thirty minutes each leg? That’s the entire session. I thought we were working on muscle.”

  “We are. This is how you are going to gain it back. Now let’s start with
the right leg. Lift it slowly so that it’s perfectly aligned with the height of the bench. Okay, then drop. Now lift again.”

  Following Tom’s instruction, I lift my leg until it reaches the height of the seat. The burn as it stretches flows inside and a little pain shoots out from the leg. Repeating the lifts, I glance at him. “So, when do I start weights?”

  “It probably won’t be for another month or so. I don’t want you hurting yourself and causing more injury. Slow and steady.”

  ******

  The next session isn’t much better. Tom has me continue the leg lifts to the point that I almost quit. It’s not that it’s painful, it’s simply frustrating. I just want this over and done with. Deep down, I knew physical therapy was going to take a while, but I would have liked to see some progress already. Oh who am I kidding? What’s the point really?

  Aunt Maggie watches during the second session as I complete the lifts. I can see hope in her eyes, but letting her down keeps filling my mind. I always thought that I was the strong one in the family, but it’s her. After everything she’s endured, Aunt Maggie has a heart of gold. After the session, she tells me how proud of me she is and even makes me do a few lifts on the couch at home. I can’t say no to her. How could I?

  By the third and fourth sessions, I’m getting the hang of it. That is until Tom decides to switch it up on me. He pushes my chair into the open floor space again and has me lay on the ground on my back.

  He instructs, “Now, lift each leg up toward the ceiling.”

  “As high as I can?”

  “No, just a few inches off the ground, and then each time you’ll lift a little higher.”

  Letting out a deep breath, I focus on each lift, feeling the leg lift off the mat and soar into the air. It isn’t very high but at least it’s something. As it lifts, I feel my brace stretch and move along with my back. Being extra cautious, I make sure not to overextend myself.

  After a few lifts of each leg, he pulls and stretches them out. Looking at the time he smiles. “Now, before the session is over, I want you to do some bicycle motions. Swirl your legs in a circle as if you’re riding a bike. Do that for the last ten minutes and then you can go.”

  I can do this. Lifting both legs, I start off slow, then work my way into a fluid circular motion, just like pedaling a bike. My back sways along the mat as my legs continue to pedal in the air.

  The stinging burn of my thighs and calves heats up, straining for a break, but I push through. Glancing at the clock, there are a couple more minutes left, so I speed up the pace just a tad for one last push. When time’s up, my legs crash on the mat, throbbing after the intense workout.

  I look up toward Tom. “So, how did I do?”

  He nods. “Excellent. You’re making good progress. We’ll keep these exercises going for the next week or so and then I’ll start you on the bar.”

  Curious, I ask him, “The bar?”

  He helps me sit up and brings the wheelchair for me. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Melanie

  IT’S BEEN EIGHT days since I’ve seen Roman. After he was discharged, Dr. Ferguson advised me that Roman decided to use the hospital’s physical therapy center. The news brought a smile to my face, but knowing that he was just one floor above me was torture.

  Even though he was a pain in my ass sometimes and cranky as hell, in a way, I miss him. I miss our small conversations about Charlie Brown and our little games of charades. I want to go upstairs and see him, but I figure it’s none of my business really. Besides, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize my career and since I’m still a new employee, it wouldn’t look good for me to be running off to visit an old patient. I have to be responsible and make smart choices, and I’d been doing just that, until an unexpected visitor came by.

  As I clean up a patient’s room, Amanda knocks on the door. “Hey Melanie, someone is here to see you.”

  “Oh okay. I’ll be right out.”

  My first thought goes immediately to Roman, but then I think about the last time he spoke to me and how it wasn’t very pleasant. Besides, he left without even saying goodbye. Hmm, maybe it’s Gia, or it could be Taylor. He might be back from Vegas.

  Hurrying up with my chores, I race outside and see another staff member talking to Amanda at the nurses station. Walking up, I ask her who’s been looking for me.

  The man glances over at me. “Ah, you’re Melanie?” He extends his hand. “I’m Tom, Roman’s physical therapist.”

  “Oh hi. Nice to meet you. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes yes, not to worry. I came down because I wanted to talk to you about him. Do you have time?”

  “Uh, yes.” Peeking at Amanda, I whisper, “Cover for me. I’ll be back.”

  I turn back to Tom and lead him out of the hall and into an empty patient room. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

  He takes a seat in one of the empty chairs so I follow suit. “Well, I wanted to discuss his time here in the ICU, specifically his emotional state. I understand the schematics of his accident and his injuries, but was he emotionally stable? Did he have any outbursts toward you or anyone else in the department?”

  I pause, surprised, and wonder whether I should answer him or not. In a way, he is Roman’s therapist, so he may need to know these things. But, then there’s the privacy clause. I take a peek at him. “Did something happen in therapy?”

  Tom sighs. “Let’s just say that it was going well until I started talking to him about what he’s going to do once he gets better.”

  I frown. “Oh, well I’m sure that wouldn’t sit well with him. Roman wanted to make a career out of being a firefighter and now that that’s taken away from him, I don’t think he fully understands his purpose in life. His life has completely turned upside down.”

  Tom nods in agreement. “Yes, I understand where he’s coming from. Yesterday he completely blew up on me and just went off. I mean full on cursing at me and a few other therapists. You see, I started him on a new workout this week and it’s not going so well. So, on top of that with the career business, I can see why he’s a little down right now.”

  I clear my throat. “Roman needs to be pushed. He’s stubborn and has lost his confidence. Once you learn how to knock down his walls, he’ll open up to you.”

  He looks at me with an equivocal eye. “You know him well don’t you?”

  “Well, I’m no expert. Can I ask, how did you know to talk to me?”

  He smiles. “I spoke to Mrs. Zeppieri over the phone and she told me to talk to you.”

  I laugh at his response. “Ah yes. She has her ways of getting what she wants. Well, is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Yes actually. I’d like you to sit in on a session with Roman and me.”

  My eyes grow wide as shock hits me. “What? No, I can’t possibly intrude. That’s a private session and honestly I don’t think Roman would like that very much. It could make matters much worse for you.”

  “I insist you come. Besides, he has no say on who can come to watch the session. I’m in charge, not Roman. The next session is tomorrow at eleven AM. I trust you can make it?”

  I stare at Tom as I think of a response. Seeing Roman vulnerable and irritable is not a pretty sight, but if he truly needs help, I can’t deny him that. Maybe all he needs is one last push from me. Nodding, I reply, “Sure, I’ll be there.”

  Tom smiles as he stands up. “Excellent. Thanks for the chat and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  ******

  Making my way upstairs to the physical therapy center, a jolt of nerves flows through my body. My nerves are so bad, I almost feel sick, ready to race to the bathroom if need be. Glancing at my phone, I’m about fifteen minutes late, but blame the subway for that. I actually left my apartment on time for once.

  Walking inside, the receptionist greets me. “Hi, do you have an appointment?”

  Looking around for Tom or Roman, I answer, “Actually no. I was sort of invited here today
by Tom. He asked me yesterday to come and sit in on one of his sessions.”

  “Oh yes! You’re Melanie. Right this way. Oh, you can hang your coat up in the closet.”

  Today is my scheduled day off so I’m wearing regular clothes and not scrubs. Following her toward the back, we pass a few rooms filled with patients working on their treatment. Therapists coach them, providing a sense of confidence and hope.

  We continue to walk toward the back until we come across a closed door. Peeking through the glass, I notice Tom standing and watching Roman with caution. They are both standing in the middle of the room; Roman is holding on to two balance bars and is in between them. I watch in silence as he looks down toward the ground, concentrating on walking and holding his weight, balancing on the bars. Each foot moves inch by inch on the mat provided, getting closer and closer to the end of the bars.

  His hands tighten around the bars as his arms tremble, trying to hold on to the balance. The receptionist opens the door and lets me in, but I remain silent, not wanting to disturb Roman’s concentration. She closes the door behind me and walks back toward the front of the center. I step closer as quietly as I can, hoping that Roman won’t notice. Tom peeks up and nods at me, signaling me to step forward.

  Sweat beads down Roman’s face as he continues to inch forward. I notice his legs trembling as a look of pain mixed with panic settles across his face. His hand slips from the bar, not able to support the weight of his body. As he starts to fall, I let out a gasp, reaching out to him. Luckily, Tom is right there in a flash, able to hoist him up just before Roman hits the mat.

  As he’s caught, his eyes fall upon mine and a flash of rage beams off his face. Steadying himself in Tom’s arms he stares dead at me.

  He roars, “What are you doing here?”

  Taken aback by his abruptness, I flinch at his volume. “Tom invited me.”

  He rips his arms out of Tom’s grasp, holding on to the bars instead. He glances at Tom. “Why is she here? She has no reason to be here.”