by Dale Mayer
Just enough admiration was in his tone that Lance perked up. “I hope it didn’t disturb you,” he said. “I guess I went a little overboard in my joy of playing again.”
“You should never apologize for having so much fun with a talent like that,” he said. “Clearly you are very gifted.”
“Well, if I can get back to it full-time, that would be a huge boon,” he said, “but the jury is out on how the muscles will handle it. They aren’t doing too well so far, but Shane has added some extra exercises to my program.”
“Does it need to be full-time?” Dr. Monroe asked, as he walked around the side of his desk and sat down. “You never mentioned music at all before.”
“I think I had shut off that part of my life,” he said. “I could tolerate only so much grieving and loss at once, and that just got lumped in with the rest of what I had lost.”
“And yet you haven’t, have you?” he asked. “Lost your talent?”
“Maybe not. I’m interested in trying other instruments now too,” he said. “I’m hoping I can find one that doesn’t put such a strain on my muscles.”
“Or some that you can build up to,” the doctor said with a laugh.
Lance gave him a crooked smile. “That too.”
“Are you thinking you can parlay something into full-time work?”
“Potentially,” he said, turning to stare out the window. “I used to play at a club, way back when, focused on jazz and blues,” he said. “I guess a part of me wonders if I could make enough of a living doing that in the evenings to not have to find a full-time nine-to-five job.”
“Well, you’ll get your benefits, so maybe that is something that you could do to make enough to tide you over.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he said. “Back then the tips were more than the actual wages, and that helped me get where I needed to go.”
“Do you remember what the tips were like?”
Only curiosity was in the doctor’s voice, so Lance answered with the same tone. “Hundreds a night,” he said. “I have no idea what it would be now.”
“If you built up a decent following,” Dr. Monroe said, “even working just Friday and Saturday nights, you could probably pick up five hundred a weekend then, right?”
“Probably twice that,” Lance said. “At least on a good weekend.”
“Lance, that’s four thousand a month,” he said in surprise.
“Puts it in perspective, doesn’t it?” he said, staring down at his arm, opening and closing his fingers. “It just depends on whether I can get good enough to play at a club again. And whether I can do several hours of music without damaging myself.”
“That’s something to talk to Shane about for sure, so you have realistic expectations and all, but that really seems like a legitimate goal to work toward,” he said. “And, from what I heard, you’re definitely good enough to play at a club.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but there’s a lot of competition for gigs like that. I used to play, mostly jazz. I do love my blues too.”
“I’d love to hear that,” Dr. Monroe said. “Actually a lot of us here love jazz. And we have a couple good jazz and blues clubs in town. Maybe you should send out a call and ask what they do for live music gigs.”
Lance considered it and then nodded. “Maybe down the road,” he said. “No point jumping into something that I can’t achieve, like if Shane can’t get the muscles to the point of being able to play for several hours.”
“Meaning?”
He looked at him in surprise. “Meaning, I just don’t want to jump the gun.”
“Got it. Just keep in mind that, if you do get some interest going, it might help you work harder toward that goal.”
“Not sure I need somebody else’s interest to work harder,” Lance said. “I’m not sure you understand how much of a new lease on life I already got just because I can play some music. If I can only do a half hour or a few songs a day, it’s still a few songs a day.”
“Right,” he said, “but, from what I’m hearing, you’ve been playing for a lot more than half an hour.”
“I have,” Lance admitted, “but with pretty rough repercussions. Today I’m fairly sore from the workouts we started doing to try to build up the shoulder muscles. I wouldn’t want to pick up the guitar and play at all today,” he said. “My mind and heart want to, but the muscles are screaming at me already.”
“And I hope you’re listening,” the doctor said.
Lance nodded. “Oh, I am. Trust me on that.”
“So, if this is giving you a whole new lease on life, it appears that you’re also thinking about your future.”
“I started thinking about that after meeting Jessica,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing like seeing a beautiful woman to make you wonder about your own future.”
Dr. Monroe sat back with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re right there,” he said. “And?”
Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “And what?”
“Did you come to any conclusion?”
“Nope. Not at all,” he said. “She’s a stunning woman and really dedicated to her work here and to her patients.”
“I hear a but in there somewhere,” the doctor said, leaning forward. “Are you afraid that she sees you only as a patient?”
Lance winced. “You like to go right for the jugular, don’t you, Doc?”
“Not necessarily,” he said, “because it’s all about balance and about you finding goals you can live with.”
“Maybe, but it’s also about finding goals that are doable,” Lance said. “I don’t want to go down that direction if it doesn’t look like I can go the distance.”
“Interesting turn of phrase,” the doctor said. “Go the distance yourself, you mean? As in, having relationships, intimacy, even marriage? Or going the distance, as in, she might not like you well enough to stand the test of time and of distance?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I’m just not really sure what it is I was looking at doing at this point. The whole music idea had been tabled for a while, so it’s kind of a new idea,” he said. “Besides, I would also like to think I wouldn’t head down that pathway if there weren’t signs from Jessica that she was walking beside me,” he said. “As for more than that, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why I can’t have a long fulfilling intimate relationship with the right partner,” he said.
Just the thought of it filled him with a shiver of delight. When he had first woken up in the hospital, he had figured that life as he’d known it was over. But apparently not. Nothing filled him with happiness more than to know that he could walk down that path and find somebody who would love him for who he was now. “It feels very different though,” he said.
“In what way?”
“Because before I was looking for different things,” he said. “Now it seems like I’d be happy to get so much less.”
“Is it less though?” the doctor asked. “Or is it not so much about less or more but instead about the basic foundational things in life. Like being loved for who you are.”
“Did you read my mind?” he said with a chuckle. “Before, in my life, I had plans for all these different things in a relationship,” he said. “Yet I didn’t even really plan. I was just happy to have somebody to go out with, happy to have somebody interested in doing things together, wanting the same things.” Abruptly he stopped and frowned.
“How is that different from right now?” Dr. Monroe asked.
“In many ways it isn’t,” he said quietly. “I guess the only real difference is that I’m not the pretty boy I was, and I have some physical challenges now,” he added quietly. “And whoever came into my world would have to accept all that.”
“Do you think that somebody coming into your world would be perfect?”
“Nobody is perfect,” he said.
“Exactly. So, whoever you end up having as a partner will have challenges too, and you’ll be prepared to work with them, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s just part of the deal, right?”
“It absolutely is,” the doctor said. “So, in the end, it’s really not that different now versus before, is it?”
“It feels different,” he said slowly.
“Yes, but only because you’re feeling differently about who you are,” the doctor said with a gentle smile.
Lance nodded. “Obviously I’m not the same person I was.”
“No,” the doctor said. “You’re better.” Lance looked at him in surprise, but the doctor nodded. “Lance, what you’re saying is something I’ve heard many times over. We get all these strong strapping young men who have been cut down in the prime of life and are working to rebuild their lives into something that, for them, seems so different,” he said. “But, at the end of the day, what we really want is to be loved for ourselves. We want to be accepted for ourselves. We want somebody to care about who we are. And it doesn’t really matter about what anybody else may think, other than that one special someone.”
“Wow. Very true,” Lance said. “So, you’re right. I guess I don’t want anything different, except that I want somebody to see me for who I am now.”
“And, in this way,” the doctor said, “what they’ll see is literally what they’ll get. You’re a much more honest and open person now, just because life has given you enough lemons to make lemonade, as they say, but you still have the peels and the wreckage around you. So, anybody who loves you now will love you for who you really are on the inside.”
“Does that mean my physical body is so hard to love?”
“Not at all,” the doctor said. “But the physical becomes secondary. Not the primary focus.”
“But sexual interaction is good,” Lance argued.
“It’s divine,” the doctor said with emphasis. “And a very welcome part of any long-term relationship. And honestly, I’ve seen that lovemaking happens many times too, yet I don’t think it has as much to do with the physical attraction. I think it has to do with that special spark between two people, and, once that spark is there, the physical just becomes a conduit for the emotions. And, more often than not, the physical body, the aesthetics of it, makes no difference.”
“I hope so,” Lance said, “because otherwise it’ll be a little tough to find anybody who’ll like this.” And he motioned at his body.
“Looks to me like you’re already well on your way,” the doctor said with a big grin.
Lance realized the doctor meant Jessica, and Lance felt something settle inside himself. “Maybe and maybe not,” he said, “but I’m grateful that I can even talk about this right now and can even think that potentially she’s there on the same pathway with me.”
“Exactly,” the doctor said.
Chapter 10
Jessica’s days carried on in a regular pattern of constant work. Visiting with Lance, more work, visiting with Lance, a couple trips into town for a breather, and more work. Finally, after a week had gone by, they were back up to full staff again. She walked with a cup of coffee down the hallway to check in on Lance. It was early yet, ten minutes before her rounds were due to start. She knocked on his door and heard him call out. Opening the door, she stepped in, and he looked up in surprise.
She smiled. “I know I’m early,” she said. “I just somehow ended up at work a little bit too early, so I have time for a cup of coffee and thought I’d stop in and say hi.” His smile was real, and she loved that about him.
“You know you’re always welcome here,” he said. He dropped what was in his hands.
Looking at it, she asked, “Sheet music?”
He nodded. “It is,” he said. “I used to write music too.”
He gave her a lopsided grin that reminded her of a little boy caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “Wow,” she said in awe. “You really are multitalented, aren’t you?”
“Well, I was,” he said. “Trying to get the fingers to do what I need the fingers to do now? Well, that’s a different story.”
“But you don’t have to figure it all out right away, do you?”
“No,” he said. “Not necessarily. As long as I’m figuring it out and making progress.”
“That’s true.” She smiled at him. “I didn’t bring you a cup of coffee because I wasn’t sure if you were ready or not.”
“I’ll get one when I head down for breakfast,” he said. “I was just looking at some songs and wondering if I wanted to try writing again.”
“Well, if you need anything,” she said, “just ask.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I might.” He looked down at the pages, picked them up, and tucked them into the bottom of a big notebook he had.
“Is that a special song?”
“Not really,” he said. “It’s one I’ve been working on for a long time.”
“That means it’s definitely special then,” she said. She looked at her watch and groaned, hopping to her feet. “Honestly, the time whips by when you’ve got to head to work.”
He laughed. “The time just whips by, period.”
She waved at him and headed to her office. Once there, she sat down and started her day.
Shane popped his head in a couple hours later and asked, “Have you talked to Lance at all?”
“This morning for a minute,” she said, looking up from her computer monitor. “Why? What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” he said. “His hands are definitely strengthening up nicely. The shoulder needs more work, but it’s getting there too.”
She beamed. “That’s great,” she said. “I know he’s been quite concerned about playing music.”
“Not only playing music,” Shane said, “but apparently our boy is very talented and actually has played in several bars and clubs.”
She looked at him in surprise. “He mentioned that. I’m not surprised, as he does seem to hold an audience.”
“I was hoping that maybe we can get a little more music back into his life, but we still have some patients and staff who don’t find it appealing,” he said.
“I was thinking about asking Dani if maybe on Saturday or Sunday he could have an hour, and they could shut their doors and ignore him for that sixty minutes.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” he said. “To schedule it ahead of time, so they can deal with it however they choose.”
She nodded. “He does go down to the pastures a fair bit,” she said. “I know the animals are really enjoying that.”
He laughed. “Still, it would be nice if we could hear it too,” he said enviously. “I know we can’t do it late in the evening or in the afternoon when people are sleeping or napping, but maybe four or five o’clock before dinner.”
She nodded. “Let me talk to Dani about it.” He nodded and disappeared. When she was done with rounds, she stopped by Dani’s office and mentioned what Shane had said.
“You know what? I was thinking about that too,” Dani said. “I’d love to hear more live music, though I know that we do have some people who aren’t terribly happy about it, but, if we gave them specific times and alternatives, then it’s something they could plan for. But we should pass it by Lance first though,” Dani said.
“I’m sure he’d be fine with it but—”
“But I think we should pass it by him,” Dani said, laughing. “And, by the way, I’m getting the piano tuned too.”
“Wow,” she said. “You know something? Once you do that, you may find you’ve got a bunch of musicians in the place.”
“And that would be fine by me,” Dani said. “I think music is good for the soul. Particularly for anyone like Lance. Getting it back in his life could be a huge motivator.”
“Agreed,” she said. “So let’s hope this works out with everybody.”
“Are you serious?” Lance looked at Dani in delight. “I’d love to have an hour to play on Saturday. I mean, I’d take two or three if I could,” he said, as he held up his hand. “I know an hour is already a lot.”
&nb
sp; “It’s not a lot for anybody who likes live music,” Dani said with a smile, “but it’s a lot if you hate music.”
It was hard for him to imagine anybody who hated music, but he knew there had been complaints, so he was grateful for anything. “If you say an hour,” he said, “then so be it.”
“No, I think you’re right,” she said. “I think we’ll switch it to an hour and a half, then see how that goes. I will schedule it for between four and five-thirty on Saturday afternoons, and then people could go for dinner afterward.”
He nodded. “I’d really like that.”
“Are you okay to play in the common room?” she asked. “Then we could make it a bit of a concert. I don’t want to do it here in your room, where you’ll clog up the hallway with people.”
He laughed. “The common room works great,” he said. “I can sit there in my wheelchair or maybe one of the chairs there,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t really know how strong I am or how long I can play.”
“Well, it’s a good time for a test then,” she said, laughing. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” And, with that, she disappeared.
And he realized that today was Friday, which confirmed that tomorrow was Saturday, so he really only had a little over twenty-four hours to plan and to prepare. He brought it up with Shane. “Maybe we could figure out,” he asked him hesitantly, “what’s the best chair for me to do a concert with?”
Shane looked at him in surprise and said, “You know what? That’s a really good idea because it makes a huge difference on your core and your back, doesn’t it?”
“How I sit determines how flexible I am and what I can play,” he said. “I need this arm free, and I must have the ability to stretch this other arm all the way out,” he said.
Shane said, “Let’s grab your guitar, and we’ll work on the different chairs to see which one is best for you.”
“I’ll get my guitar,” he said, as he maneuvered back into the wheelchair.
“Good,” Shane said. “Let’s meet in the common room, and we’ll see what’s there to choose from too.”
By the time he arrived with his guitar in the common room, Shane was looking around at the various chairs, frowning.
