by Lynn, Davida
My little sister peeked out from behind my pop. It hit me that she was scared of me. The lump returned to my throat. I gave her my best smile, knowing that it probably made me look like Quasimodo. “I know I don’t look too good right now, but that’s because I took a nasty spill. I’m gonna get better, though. You know that, right?”
Sara was small for an eight-year-old, but she was bright. When she listened, she understood more than some adults. For a second she stared at me, and then she nodded. “The doctors are going to fix you?”
I raised my casted and bolted left arm. “They already started. I’m going to set off every metal detector from now on, but it’s still your big brother.”
She smiled, and it was like the first sunny day of the year. Sara was the love of my life. She was the reason I was a firefighter. My heart ached, and another tear fell.
I looked back to my mother. “Ma, just promise me you won’t tell Susanne. I don’t need any drama.”
It was my pop who answered, though. “Yeah, I’d say you’ve had enough of that.”
“Harry, you’re going to give me everything you’ve got today, right?”
He had one week left in his physical therapy before he went home, and in a way, I was going to miss him. He was practically a model patient. He never complained about how hard I pushed him, and besides that, he had great stories from the Korean War. He was eighty, and if not for the broken hip, he could have passed for someone twenty years younger.
Harry smiled and set his walker aside. “One hundred percent. Right, Lizzie?”
I smiled back. “Right. Why don’t we start with the squats?”
He nodded. We got him set up on the machine and I set it for forty pounds. Once he was secured, I asked, “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“All right. Fifteen down and fourteen up. You got this, Harry. I want that walker back in the closet with all the other trophies.” I watched as he began, and then I headed into a side room off of the physical therapy gym.
Alan was sipping on some coffee and raised his mug when I walked in. “Fresh pot.”
I spun in the direction of our small kitchen. “You are a life-saver.”
He followed me into the break room as I dug out my Disney mug. “Late night?”
“You know it.”
Alan shook his head. His voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, “Lizzie, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to stop going clubbing on school nights. Your teachers are going to be so disappointed in you. I can already tell that your grades are slipping. I hope you’ve at least met some rich suitors.”
I let Alan have his fun. If he knew the truth, he’d make fun of me even more. For the last two months, I’d been working on a paper on attitude and patient recovery times for the Journal of the American Physical Therapy Association. I’d let Alan believe that I was out dancing with rich men instead of pouring over research late into the night.
Maybe he knew I was one step above a shut-in, but I didn’t mind. I loved my work, and I wanted to be able to frame something on my wall besides my degrees. I wanted that elusive published article. In the meantime, Harry’s enthusiasm would have to suffice.
As I stirred the creamer into my mug, I headed back to the gym to check on him. A few of the physio assistants were around, just in case anything happened. The gym was also attached to the hospital, making it about the safest place for PT in the area.
“What’re you at, Harry?”
He grunted out a reply. “Two to go.”
I smiled his way. “Add five more and you can take five minutes.”
“You’re on.”
I winked at the wonderful old man just as I heard my name behind me. “Elizabeth?”
I turned to the double doors leading to the hospital. “Lizzie. Yes?” I didn’t recognize the nurse, but there were so many, and they worked between so many different hospitals. Except for some of the older ladies who were nurse supervisors, I didn’t know the names of more than three nurses.
She stepped through the door, letting it close on its own. I saw the file she was carrying. It had more than the usual amount of X-rays for just one person; far more, in fact. I gave it a sideways glance before looking up.
I motioned her back toward the break room. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m Marnie Edwards, a nurse in ICU. I was told to find you.” She looked fresh out of nursing school. She also looked eager, which explained why she was in the ICU.
I laughed. “I can only imagine why.”
She must not have been much for humor. She gave me a blank stare for a second. Then, “I was told you are one of the best in PT when it comes to…um…tough patients.” She looked uncomfortable, and that piqued my interest.
I reached for the folder. The patient had obviously been in a bad accident. I couldn’t count the number of X-rays there were. The date on the file stuck out to me.
“The patient was just admitted a few days ago? I wouldn’t even start to work with them for weeks.” It didn’t make me any less interested, though. If anything, I wanted to know more.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, “but I think this case will be especially hard. The patient fell twenty-five feet. Multiple breaks and fractures.” She leaned in, smiling for the first time. “And get this: he’s a firefighter.”
Marnie gave a little giggle that made me want to roll my eyes out of my head. I wanted to know how he got hurt, but his profession didn’t do much for me. The nurse was young, and maybe she’d forgotten that there were rich doctors walking around the whole hospital. Someone’s job didn’t do much for me.
I shrugged. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
She handed the files over after a slight pause, maybe a little hurt that I hadn’t engaged on the firefighter thing. Flipping the folder open, I began to take in just how extensive his injuries were. Both legs were screwed in place, there were fractures near his hip, and his left arm was bad, too.
Marnie watched me, her arms across her chest. She was eager to know what I thought. I had to give her something, or she wouldn’t be satisfied.
I sighed. “I don’t know if he’ll ever walk again, Marnie. He’s suffered some serious injuries, and he’s got more surgeries to go. Even if he does get back up on his feet, I’m afraid his days of fighting fires in the D might be over. He’s going to lose so much mobility and speed.”
She looked at me as if it was the last thing she wanted to hear. “I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
I nodded, sliding his left forearm X-ray back into the folder. It looked like a map of a series of islands, none of them touching. “It’s bad. Thanks for showing me. I’ll start coming up with a strategy, and if the doctor doesn’t mind, I’ll probably be up to see the patient…” I glanced at the tab on the folder “…Ricardo early next week.”
The nurse smiled at me. It was the sad smile patients gave me when they’d lost hope. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d seen it. I put a hand on her arm.
“Hey, I’ve seen people come back from things worse than this.”
It wasn’t exactly true, but it was what Marnie needed to hear. In that moment, she was no different than the defeated patient or the forsaken family member I’d worked with over and over again. She needed to hear something that would keep her moving forward, even if all she was doing was keeping an eye on Ricardo. I believed that everyone associated with the patent had to maintain a positive outlook to offer the best chance of a full recovery.
I smiled at the young nurse, “Give him time. There’s a reason that they recommended me for this.” I leaned in so Alan wouldn’t hear. “I’m the best there is.”
With her confidence restored, Marnie giggled again. “That’s great to hear. I know he has a long way to go, but just between you and me, I’m really pulling for him.”
I smiled. I bet you are, I thought. The infatuation was obvious. They had probably done a story on the news about the accident, and I could imagine a picture of Ricardo before hi
s fall, dressed in his blues with his cap on. As the younger nurse walked away, I shook my head and set my coffee down.
Harry’s five-minute break was over, and it was time for him to do some stretches. I was going to work him hard in his last week. I would encourage him to stay strong so he’d never have to return to my PT gym again.
I wondered if Ricardo would ever even make it down to physical therapy. Many patients chose to transfer to long-term care facilities, which usually spelled disaster. I had definitely exaggerated my confidence with the nurse, but I thought I could get Ricardo up and on his feet again.
I remembered the multiple breaks in his left leg. I’d seen men and women far older than him get through it. If he was truly the man that Marnie made him out to be, he could do it. But he’d have to learn how to walk again, and it would be the hardest, most painful thing he’d ever done in his life.
My parents stayed for the first two days, but I finally had enough and sent them away. Ma was doting on me, and I could see them getting ragged from sleeping in chairs.
As she was tucking my sheets, I grabbed her hand. “Ma, what did I just say?”
She looked up at me, and I could clearly see that she had missed my speech. “Rico, let me get this sheet changed.”
“Ma, you have to go. It’s been two days. Are you really gonna stay until I can walk out of here? You’re really gonna let Pop take care of Sara all by himself? They’re probably eating cereal and pizza for every meal.”
Ma was hurting, and I wasn’t helping. I knew that, but I needed some peace. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Ma. I’m gonna need you real bad in the next few weeks, so I need you in fighting shape.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah…”
“Can you do that for me?” She nodded. “You’re gonna go home and get some sleep?”
“I guess I could use a shower, huh?”
I laughed. “Ma, you can’t possibly smell any worse than I do. There is one hell of a funk coming from the cast.”
She stood up. “Okay, okay. You convinced me. I’ll get out of your hair for a bit, but how about lunch tomorrow?” I could see the hopeful look returning to her eyes.
“Of course. That sounds great.”
As she turned to leave, there was a knock at the door. I answered. “Yeah, come on in.” I figured it was another technician that needed a blood sample, or someone checking on my fluids.
Instead, my battalion chief walked in dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled at Ma. “Mrs. Baggio, how are you?”
She hugged him. “Good. You?”
“I’m doing all right. I figured I might get a chance to see Rico not sleeping for a change.”
I gave him a dirty look before my mother turned around. “Well, he’s all yours. He has officially kicked me out of the room.”
Clay played up the conversation, taking her side. “Kicking your own mother out? Rico, I never would have expected that kind of behavior from you. No respect, I tell ya. No respect.”
Ma laughed and turned back to me. “See you tomorrow, Rico. Get some sleep.”
I nodded. “I will, Ma. Say hi to Sara and Pop.” Once she had left and I knew she was far enough away, I asked Clay, “Would you mind helping me scoot up? My back is killing me, and I’ve only got one arm to work with here.”
He stepped up to the side of the bed. “No problem.”
I leaned forward. “Just give me something to pull up on.” Clay held an arm out, and I grabbed onto it and slid up the bed far enough to take some weight off my lower back. “Thanks. It takes two nurses to move me, so I try to save them the trouble when I can.”
Three days in, and I was keeping my spirits up. It felt that way, at least. Asking Clay to help me must have uncovered something that I had been doing my best to ignore, because out of nowhere, I broke down.
Tears streamed over my cheeks and I covered my face with my working hand and turned away. The last thing I wanted was for my chief to see me bawling like a child. I was a tough son-of-a-bitch.
It wasn’t the pain. I could handle pain. It was the realization that my career was over. I had no doubt that Clay was there to tell me I’d be taken care of for life, but my locker wouldn’t be waiting for me when I was released from the hospital. Could I blame him?
“Sorry, Clay. Really, I’ve been doing well. With my family here, I’ve—”
He cut me off, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. “With your family here, you’ve been able to focus on anything but what’s going to happen to you.”
I nodded, the emotion cutting off the words I wanted to scream: I’m done. Finished. Disabled.
He let me cry it out for a little while. I heard him drag a chair beside my bed. The last thing I wanted was to talk. I wanted him to break the news and get the fuck out of my room. I knew him better than that. Clay was the type of boss that sat down with you when you made a mistake. He didn’t punish; he talked you through it. He wasn’t going anywhere, and I wasn’t getting up to rush out any time soon.
I sucked my snot back and tried to pull my shit together. I stared at my broken legs. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“No need. Don’t let that hero shit get to your head. Firefighters see the worst of the worst, and I’ll quit on the day you show me one who hasn’t cried before. You take care of yourself. It seems like you’ve spent the last few days making sure your family keeps it together. So, who’s keeping you together?”
Tears escaped my eyes once again. The pristine white sheets were catching each drop. My mind was blank. It felt like I’d been up for three days straight. Nothing was making sense, and I couldn’t form a sentence or an answer to save my life.
I raised my hand back over my eyes. Clay leaned in and put his hand on my shoulder. It only made me cry harder. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted…”
“I’ve heard that before. You know what no one ever says, but they should? ‘Man, I’d take Rico crippled over dead any day.’ I’ve buried four brothers. My father was one of them. I would give anything to have him here. If he’d been hurt that night instead of killed, he’d be here telling you the exact same thing. You did it, Rico. You fuckin’ did it, man. You made it all the way.”
I nodded, still keeping my eyes closed tight. “I made it as far as I ever will. I’m through. I know enough medical shit to know that I’m through.”
For a while, neither of us spoke. I had the crying somewhat under control, but I was still sucking back snot. A box of tissues dropped into my lap.
When I looked up at Clay, all he asked was, “You done? Can we get down to business?”
After a wipe, I nodded.
“Good. First, the union is behind you completely. You’re going to get full pay as long as you’re in the hospital, and after that things get a bit tricky.” He looked away.
Bad news. “Tricky how?”
“Well.” He was stalling for time. Very bad news. “That depends on your level of recovery. If the doctors clear you for light duty, we’re going to try to score you a desk job with the department. That would probably put you downtown, and you’d be set for life.”
My boss must have seen the look in my eyes. It was a look of devastation. I didn’t know which option sounded worse. I could be out of work for the rest of my life, or stuck behind a desk listening to all the guts and glory instead of living it.
