by Pardo, Jody
“Okay Ryan, with one hand, reach and grab the safety bar on this side.”
I was frozen but my hands were starting to slip. Craig grabbed my hips once again.
“Come on; you can do this. Reach for the bar. I got you.”
I had no doubt he had me; he looked like he could bench press a Volkswagen. I let go with my right arm and my body weight swung me forward, wrapping around the doorframe to my left, and I grabbed the bar.
“Okay, now the other hand, the hard part is over.” I let go and since the safety bar was lower than the bar, I was dropping. Oh shit. I’m slipping. Now hanging from the safety bar, my feet were on the floor and I kept slipping down the bar until my hands reached the bottom curve and I was in a stretched semi-seated position.
“Craig? A little help here? I’m don’t have anywhere else to go from here.”
Craig put my chair right behind me and said, “Let go.”
I let go and landed on the edge of the memory foam cushion of my chair. I was so relieved I hadn’t ended up on the floor. Craig came around from behind me with his fist outstretched at me. “Now that wasn’t hard, was it? Welcome to your bedroom, Ryan.”
I’m in my bedroom. Holy shit, I think I love this man.
“You going to leave me hanging, bro?” Craig’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts and amazement. I gave him a fist bump and started laughing.
“Dude, no homo, but I think I love you.”
He just laughed and shook his head at me. “No problem, man. Now let’s see about the rest of your renovations. ”
Sam emerged from the bathroom, tool bag in hand and dropped it next to the bed. “The bathroom is all done, Craig. Let me know if you need any height adjustments. I’m going to head out to the truck and grab the rest of the long pipes and the cables.”
“Thanks, Sam. We will stay out of your way, but before you get started, can you make sure you bring that alternate wheelchair with you so Ryan here can get around the bathroom easier?”
“Okay, be right back.” And Sam went off to complete whatever Craig had planned for him. Craig turned his attention back to me and cocked his head.
“Lydia said you were eager to take a shower?”
“Do I smell that bad?” I asked as I smelled the armpits of my shirt.
“Not yet, but it’s June, so it won’t take long for you to ripen,” he said with a smirk.
Sam returned with a higher seated chair that had a lower back and wider set wheels with fold down footholds, padded armrests, and tailback rocker bars.
“This will be your bed and bath chair. It’s taller and will be easier to transfer from the doorway and in the bath and into your bed with the added height. But since you are already in that chair, let’s go.”
My en suite had French doors at both the entry to the closet and to the bathroom so width restrictions were not an issue in here. The first thing I noticed was all the clothing bars had been lowered, and a shelf placed above it where some of my shoes had been neatly lined up.
As I proceeded into the master bath, there were bars everywhere. Parallel bars were on each side of the toilet, another set on each side of my pedestal sink with a horizontal bar that ran across above the sink, safety bars on each side of the shower entry, a bathing seat with a back rested in the shower and safety bars in and around the tub.
“Wow it’s like disability heaven in my bathroom." Craig just laughed, shaking his head.
“You got a good nurse out there, Ryan. She’s looking out for you. Hell, she tracked me down. I will be here to help for a little while to get you started. Waste my time and I’m outta here. But give me your 200% best effort and you get a little piece of independence back. Deal?” He put his fist out once more and I gave him a pound.
“Deal.”
“Well, all right. How about that shower while I turn the rest of your bedroom into a jungle gym?”
“Hell yes!”
Craig grabbed me some easy sweats and boxers to change into from my dresser and two towels off the shelf. I bent over and pulled off my sneakers and socks, then pulled my t-shirt off over my head.
With Craig guiding me, I pulled up on the safety bar next to the shower and swiveled into the bathing seat. Sam or Craig, I’m not sure which, had thought of everything, even lowering the bracket for the shower massager so I could reach it easily.
“Okay Craig, I got it from here. If you could just unfold one towel across the seat of my chair and hang the other through the safety bar, I will be all set.” He did as I asked and left.
“Holler if you need something,” he yelled over his shoulder from the closet.
After Craig left, I leaned to one side, supporting myself with the bars and slid my track pants down one hip then rocked the other way, scooting my pants and boxers down and off my legs. As they fell to the shower floor, I didn’t even care. I should burn them for sitting in the same clothes for 4 days, so a little water and soap wasn’t going to hurt them.
As I turned the lever to the HOT position, the pulsating warm water hit my lap, and it was the best feeling ever. As the water caressed my skin, running down my legs in streams, I thought to myself, I had been in my house for four days, but now, I was home.
I washed and scrubbed my skin with the rough loofah until it was pink and flushed. I scrubbed my hair with shampoo until my scalp tingled. Then, I sat under the stream of hot water until it started to run cold.
Ryan
I crawled back to my chair and the new construction in my bedroom was complete. It looked like someone had built a cage over my bed. As I rolled into my bedroom, I spotted Craig attaching what appeared to be big rubber bands to the bars at the foot of the bed.
“Are you planning on catapulting me into bed?” I joked.
Craig gave the orange band a good yank and chuckled. “Nah, but it could make for an interesting Friday night.” Yup, I liked this guy.
My stomach growled loudly, “As much as I would love to see what kinky cripple shit you can come up with, I have to feed the alien in me.”
He chuckled. “Well, you need to get out the bedroom first.”
“Get ready to grab my chair.”
With new conviction, I grabbed the safety bar, pulled upright, reached for the pull-up bar and prayed on all that was holy that my second hand made purchase as I let go of the safety bar and swung my limp legs into the doorway.
“Good job Ryan, you’re a quick learner.” He folded my chair halfway so it would fit through the entryway and locked the wheels for me.
“Okay, all set but first, while you are there, pull up.”
“What?” I blurted out still hanging in the doorway.
“Come on, pull up! Earn your lunch. Lydia has been in the kitchen all morning. Pull up!” I spotted Lydia in the kitchen as she bent over to grab an onion from the fridge, but she went back to cooking and didn’t look my way. With new determination, I pulled on the bar with all my strength. Craig grabbed my legs to stop me from swinging, and I felt him nudging me upward. Not pushing, not lifting, just nudging me.
“Come on, a little more. Get your chin up there.” And he nudged me again, and I gave one last tug as my chin tapped the bar.
“Hold it! Hold it! Little more, now slowly ease down and grab the safety bar on the other side.”
Now it made sense why there were bars on both sides the doorway. I’m right handed and so I felt more confident grabbing to the left and letting my body swing rather than reaching with my non-dominant arm. Craig wasn’t a designer; he was a fucking genius. The momentum of my swinging useless legs enough force to grab with my second hand as Craig moved my chair closer to the doorway and locked the wheels.
“Okay, you’re all set. Now plant the landing.”
I slid down the safety bar to the bottom and let my weight drop creating a natural bend at the knees.
“Now you have to trust your chair. You have anti-tip bars in the back, just in case you have a hard landing but you are going to have to figure out with pract
ice where to put your chair.”
I looked behind me and saw my chair at the back of my knees. I let go with one arm and reach back for the armrest. I landed right on the edge, quickly grabbing both armrests and scooting myself up before I ended up on the floor.
“You’ll get there. But not bad for day one.” Craig said with a pat on my shoulder. He extended his arm for a fist pump to the air. Just as my adrenaline started to wane, my heart returned to a manageable rhythm. Then the smell of garlic and onions invaded my nose, assaulting my senses, spurring a roar from deep within my gut.
“Lydia?” I was so busy with Craig this morning and Lydia had made herself scarce.
“Yeah, Ryan?” She popped her head out of the kitchen with a knife in one hand and a red pepper in the other wearing my “Kiss the Chef” shamrock apron.
“What are you making and please tell me it’s almost ready?”
“Was wondering when you boys were going to come out and eat. It’s been ready. This,” holding out the red pepper, “is for tomorrow.”
“Okay, if that’s for tomorrow, what’s for today?”
She smiled. “Sausage and peppers. The butcher had made fresh cheese and parsley sausage and I picked up some club rolls from the bakery.”
Craig and I moaned in unison. Apparently, he liked the sound of that, too. I looked up at Craig as he rubbed his chin, “You staying bro?”
Craig grinned widely. “You’re going to have to throw me out.”
Lydia disappeared into the kitchen and came out a few minutes later with two sandwiches overflowing with cut up sausage topped with glistening sautéed onions with red and green peppers.
Craig grabbed both plates from Lydia and asked, “What’s Ryan eating?”
What? Fucking prick. He turned to me with a plate in each hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Just kidding, man. But you better hurry up because this looks like an appetizer.”
I rolled over to him and ran straight across his foot. Craig grimaced and held a curse just inside of his teeth.
“Oh sorry, was that your foot? Aw, my bad. You can stick it in your mouth to wash down your sandwich.” I said as I grabbed my plate from his hand and rolled in front of the TV.
“Well played, man, well played,” Craig said as he took a seat on the couch, shaking his head before sinking his teeth into his sandwich. As we ate, the silence was broken only by the occasional slurp to catch an escaping onion shred as we both absently watched the Knicks battle it out with the Bulls on TV. Before halftime, I felt myself slipping into a happy food coma.
I woke up to snapping fingers and a woman’s voice. “Ryan, hey! Wake up! It’s six. I have to get going.”
As I tried to pry my eyes open to find the voice, the slumber in my lids threatened to pull me back under.
“Come on, Ryan. Wake up? You with me?”
Still disoriented, I tried to focus, but my eyes betrayed me even though my nose was very much awake and dialed in to the smell of tomato sauce of some kind and more garlic.
“Is that spaghetti?” My throat was scratchy and my neck ached from falling asleep in my chair.
“Yes, it is. I packed up the rest of the sausage and peppers and par-boiled some pasta. All you boys have to do is warm it up in the microwave.”
“Good night guys. See you tomorrow.” Lydia called back as she headed out the door.
For the next five weeks, Craig lived in my loft. It had only been used for guests and storage in the past and I was glad it was being put to good use as Craig helped me. Every morning at four am, we worked out. I had always been a morning person, as the life of a fisherman was dictated by the tides, but Craig was definitely not a morning person. One funny thing about our four am workout sessions, I was awake, ripping and raring to start my day and Craig was awake and alert, but basically just blowing off steam and wore himself out for his hibernation.
Lydia thought he was gone at one point until the smell of bacon roused the sleeping bear and he ventured downstairs during the daylight hours to feed. Our workouts left my arms and abs burning for hours, but it was a welcome relief to my ass burn from sitting in a chair all day. My house became a jungle gym and there were two monkeys living in it.
Craig lived to work out, but didn’t do much else that I could see. I would hear him stirring upstairs but I couldn’t really go check on him, so I let him be.
He went to town; he had his own car, a red Toyota Camry, but only ever returned with groceries or a snack. Like Lydia, he always had something in his mouth. He was always eating; if he was awake, he was eating. Lydia didn’t eat much but always had something in her mouth, like a lollipop or a straw. She cooked all day and Craig and I ate all night. She never complained about us eating all the leftovers. In fact, she seemed to beam like a proud mother hen and said more than a few times, “I’m glad to see you guys are eating more than Oreos.”
Lydia buzzed around all day. Once we got bars in place everywhere, the mini-fridge, microwave and things where I could readily reach them, my nursing needs were minimal. She passed her hours with me cooking up a storm and relaying the news from town. The old hens had gotten hold of her, but it was nice to hear the stories.
“Is Craig around today, Ryan?” Lydia asked as she prepared lunch for us.
“He is probably sleeping off a post-workout food coma. He polished off the rest of that meatloaf at around six this morning.”
“Who eats meatloaf at six in the morning?” She asked as she scrunched up her face in disapproval.
“We do! Woman, there is never a BAD time for meatloaf unless the meatloaf has gone bad,” I said sternly.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing. Most women I know complain that no one ever eats their leftovers, and lots of food goes to waste. The only thing I throw out are empty packages,” she said as she shook her head.
“We are growing boys. So what’s for lunch?”
“Well, since you guys ate all the meatloaf, I just threw some sandwiches together with some coleslaw.”
“Bring it on. I doubt it’s just a sandwich. You have been in there all morning and I heard the stove go on earlier.”
“You ready to eat now?” she asked sounding surprised.
“Lyds,” I used her nickname, “I am always ready to eat. Bring out the sandwiches and let’s have some lunch. If Craig is hungry, he will come down.”
She returned from the kitchen with two plates bearing long hero rolls with fried chicken cutlets, a pesto mayo, and healthy slices of mozzarella cheese with a small mound of her homemade coleslaw on each plate.
“This is not just a sandwich.” I sunk into the hero with all my might, trying to get a generous mouthful. I moaned with each chew of the tender chicken while the pesto teased my tongue. I heard the doorknob behind me and as I twirled around to face the bathroom door, Craig stood there stunned.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” My mouth was still full of chicken cutlet and my tongue refused to let it go and swallow, so Lydia had to answer. I just sat and ate another bite.
“You weren’t interrupting; we were just having some lunch. Would you like some?” I rolled my eyes. Stupid question. That’s like asking a fat kid if he wants cake.
“Sure, I can eat. I will take whatever is making Ryan moan like a seventies porn star, please.” I chuckled in between bites as he sat down next to me and awaited Lydia’s meal.
“Seriously dude, I thought I was interrupting something, but I had to pee really bad.” Craig said hesitantly before Lydia brought his sandwich.
“In a hot minute, dude.” Craig’s eyebrows rose in question, but before I could elaborate Lydia returned with his lunch.
As soon as she handed it to him, he shoved it in his mouth. “I am going to miss this.” Craig said in between chews.
“There is more in the fridge, Craig, for your breakfast. I still can’t believe you ate cold meatloaf for breakfast.”
“Who said it was cold? I heated it up right along with the mashed potatoes and asparagu
s,” he said proudly with a smile. Lydia just rolled her eyes as she finished up her coleslaw and soaked up the dressing with the last bit of her sandwich.
“Well, I will be headed out tomorrow afternoon. Time to head to Boston,” Craig said nonchalantly.
“What’s in Boston, Craig?” I questioned. I thought he lived in New York.
“We got a new request for an Alpha boot camp. So, I am heading down there to help set it up. All the equipment finally arrived, so now I am going to get it started.”
“Aww Craig, I will be sad to see you go,” Lydia mewled.
“I can’t thank you enough for all you have done for me, Craig. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Absolutely. I will be calling you. I’m going to have you do a little testimonial for my website. Give some folks something to smile about.”
“Anytime, man.” With that, Craig went back up to the loft to pack. I guess our last workout session would be in the morning. It was a bittersweet thought.
After Craig left, Lydia and I fell into a routine. Slowly, we worked out the kinks, and became a well-oiled machine. I couldn’t thank Craig enough for all his help and I enjoyed our Saturday check-ins via Skype with the rest of the Alpha crew. It was nice to see Carla and Tiffany’s familiar smiling faces on my laptop screen. It drove away the loneliness of the weekend. I missed Lydia on the weekends. She was also now a part of my life.
I had a weekend nurse, Stephen, but I fired him. Lydia gave me everything I needed for the weekend and Craig had made sure I had access to everywhere I wanted to be. How I wished Lydia could be here every day, but I knew that I was being selfish.
The only room in the house I had a hard time maneuvering into was the kitchen. I was still working on some tricks in my spare time, but the kitchen was the last obstacle.
The dorm fridge installed in the dining room had been packed to the gills on Friday's with prepared meals and the microwave on top of it was my best friend.
