by Beth Ehemann
“Why not?” He turned back to the nurse. “She can lie down with me, right? I mean, we’re both consenting adults. And we’ve had sex before . . . a lot of sex.”
“Viper!” I squealed as the nurse laughed. “Shut up.”
“What? I’m just saying,” he exclaimed defensively.
“Okay, honey. But maybe you just don’t say for a while, okay?” I took a deep breath and exhaled through puffy cheeks.
The nurse hung the clipboard up and tilted her head to the side, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Like I said, good luck today. The doctor will be in in a minute.” She shot me a quick wink and left the room.
“How does she do that?” Viper asked.
“Do what?”
“Close just one of her eyes like that?” He stared straight ahead, blinking both of his eyes hard.
Andy was right, I should have videoed this.
A little while later, we were back in the car heading home. His meds had worn off slightly, but not completely, and I learned that a drugged-up Viper was a lovable Viper!
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked for the thirtieth time when I pulled onto my street.
“I do know, but you can tell me again. I like hearing it.” I chuckled.
“I don’t tell you enough, do I? I’m an asshole.”
“You aren’t an asshole.” I shook my head.
“I really want donuts. But not regular donuts. I want mini donuts, but I also want them to be crunchy.” He sat forward quickly. “Ah! Cheerios. I want Cheerios. Do we have any?”
By this point my chuckle had grown into a full-blown laugh. “Maybe. I’ll check the pantry when we get home.”
“Pantry. Pantry. Pantry,” he said slowly. “Pantry is a weird word. It’s tricky. People think you’re going to talk about pants and then you throw a ‘ry’ in there at the end and it’s like . . . psych! Gotcha!”
“Let me get this straight . . . Cheerios are like mini-donuts?” I was glad that we were almost home because I don’t know how much further I could have driven laughing as hard as I was.
“Yeah. Hey you know what else?” His voice grew louder and louder with each sentence. “We should take ski lessons this winter.”
“Oh, honey.” I shook my head as I turned into the driveway. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t gonna be doing any skiing this winter.”
“We’ll see. I’m gonna bounce back and shock everyone.” He lifted his hands and pumped them up and down, pretending to hold ski poles. “I’ll be whooshing down hills and in and out of trees like a badass.”
“Right now, let’s just try to get in the house, okay?” I glanced over at him as I turned the car off. His face was still wearing the same goofy grin he’d left the recovery room with. When he beamed like that, with wide smiling lips and twinkling eyes, he looked so young and carefree. Those were the moments I fell in love with him all over again. “Stay right there. I’ll come around and get you.”
“You got it, babe.” He pointed his finger at me and winked.
Once we got inside the door, Viper sobered up instantly. He pulled his eyebrows down low, grimacing.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” I panicked.
“No, but I feel like I’m gonna puke. I need to go lie down.”
“Okay. It’s probably the anesthesia. It makes some people sick.” I gently rubbed his back. “Where do you want to go? You want to lie on the couch?”
“I think upstairs.”
“Viper, I don’t know if you should do stairs yet.”
“I’m fine. I’ll go up with my good leg first.” He started toward the steps and moved up them slowly, one at a time. Matthew and Maura came running from the back of the house with Taylor right behind them.
“Viper!” Matthew called out, waving something in his hand. “I made you a card!”
Maura was right on his heels. “Me too! Me too!”
“You know what guys—” I stopped them before they ran up the stairs and knocked him over. “Viper doesn’t feel so hot, so he’s gonna go up and lie down. Maybe after he naps you can take the cards upstairs to him.”
“Okay,” they said in unison, a little sad.
I walked upstairs with Viper and tucked him into bed. He was sound asleep before I left the room, and I was thankful for that, hoping a good long nap would kick the rest of the meds out of his system and make him feel better.
What I didn’t plan on was him not leaving that room for the next two days.
“Hey, did you hear me?” Michelle’s hand gently shook my shoulder.
“Hm?” I grumbled, drifting in and out of my narcotic induced sleepy haze.
“I said that your first therapy appointment is in a couple of hours. Do you want to get up and take a shower? I’ll make you breakfast?”
My eyelids felt like lead as I struggled to pull them open. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“Where are the kids?” I asked, surprised I hadn’t heard them yet.
“I took Matthew to school and Maura is downstairs playing with her ponies. Want me to make you eggs or something?” She rested her hand on my bicep again.
“Nah. I’m just gonna shower and go.” I sat up in bed slowly, trying to shake the clouds from my brain. I couldn’t wait to be done with the pain meds. They made everything fuzzy and I felt like I moved in slow motion.
“Okay,” she sounded disappointed. “Well, let me know when you’re ready and we’ll leave.”
Her footsteps shuffled along the carpet and I turned just in time to see her walk out the door.
Grabbing my crutches from the floor, I stood and made my way to the bathroom, pausing at the sink. I reached up and rubbed the thick stubble across my face, thanks to not shaving for several days. For a brief moment I thought about shaving before therapy, but ultimately, I didn’t give a shit. I turned the water on in the shower and put a waterproof medical bandage over my knee while it warmed up.
That’s gonna feel good when I rip it off.
I stepped into the shower carefully and propped my arm up on the wall for support. Never in my whole life had I felt so incapable and weak. I couldn’t walk without crutches, I couldn’t drive until I was off my meds, I could barely even walk around the kitchen and make food for myself. I’d spent the last twenty plus years whizzing around the ice on skates, as part of a team where I was needed, and now I couldn’t even take a shower without being worried.
“Knock, knock,” Michelle said.
I turned as she walked into the bathroom with her hands folded across her chest and smiled at me from the other side of the glass.
“Hey,” I acknowledged.
“Sooooooo . . . got room for one more?”
I glanced back at her. “Huh?”
Quickly dropping her eyes to the ground, she gave me a small shrug. “I went back downstairs and Maura was passed out on the couch, so I thought I’d come up here and maybe join you . . . in there? What do you think?” Her eyes lifted to mine and she chewed on the corner of her lip.
I poured shampoo into my palm and closed my eyes as I tilted my head back and scrubbed my hair. “Oh . . . uh . . . probably not. I just want to rinse off and get moving.” I never closed my eyes when I took a shower, but I didn’t want to see the disappointment on Michelle’s face.
She didn’t respond. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes and she was gone.
After I showered, I got dressed and carefully made my way down the stairs toward the kitchen. Maura was dancing in circles to some weird TV show and Michelle was loading the dishwasher.
“Hey,” I said as I opened the fridge. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but I knew she was probably upset with me and I didn’t know what else to do with myself.
“Hey.” Her tone was dry and she didn’t turn around.
“We should probably leave in like fifteen minutes. Is that okay?”
“Yep,” she answered shortly.
Those fifteen minutes felt more like an hour. Michelle
and I didn’t talk . . . she didn’t even look at me. I sat on the couch, watching Maura wiggle and dance and sing her heart out, her blond curls bouncing up and down as she twirled around the room.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Brody: Yo! You gonna be around today? I was going to stop by but wanted to make sure you weren’t going out for a jog or something.
You’re an asshole. I have physical therapy in a while but then I’ll be home.
“Ready?” Michelle called from the kitchen.
Maura watched me get up from the couch. Her eyes scrolled down the length of the crutches and back up at me, before she cracked a tiny smile and patted me on the butt.
“Come on,” she said. I laughed out loud and scooped her up into my arms for a quick kiss before she led me to the front door.
On the day of my surgery, Mia texted over the information of the state of the art rehab center they wanted me to go to. We had an in-house rehab person at the stadium and I assumed I’d be going to her but apparently that wasn’t the case.
We pulled up to the building and Michelle pulled into the first spot that was designated for the drop off and pick up of patients.
“You sure you don’t want us to come in?” Michelle asked as I got out of the car.
“No, I’m good. There’s nothing for you guys to do in there for an hour anyway.”
“Okay. Well, we’re gonna run some errands and we’ll be back.”
“See ya.” I turned and hustled into the building as fast as my stupid metal appendages would allow me to go.
The heavy glass door made a loud thud as it closed behind me and a receptionist looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Uh . . . yeah . . . I’m Vi—Lawrence Finkle. I have an appointment today.”
“Hi, Mr. Finkle. Let me just look up here and see who you’re scheduled with.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close to her computer screen. “Okay, you’re actually going to be with Sherman.” Her head swooped up and she gave me another smile. “Lucky guy. He’s our most requested therapist . . . has a wait list a couple months long.”
“Wow. Sherman must be a beast.” I knew nothing about this place or Sherman or wait lists, but clearly he knew what the hell he was doing if he was that popular.
“Just have a seat in one of those chairs and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She motioned to a small waiting area off to the side.
“Okay, thanks,” I said and turned to the chairs, feeling a little optimistic. Mia sent me to this place for a reason and somehow got me in with Sherman. He was probably ex-military or something and would kick my ass.
I sat in the chair closest to the door, so I could see around the desk and check out the facility a little bit. The walls were painted a light blue and other than one wall being lined with exam tables, it pretty much just looked like a big gym. A rack off to the left went floor to ceiling and had several giant balls on it, all different sizes and colors.
A man, who looked to be in his mid-fifties, came around the corner of the desk and walked right up to me. “Hi! Are you Mr. Finkle?”
“Yeah,” I said hesitantly with a nod.
“I’m Sherman! Nice to meet you!” he pushed his hand into mine and we shook.
“You’re Sherman?” I tried not to sound so surprised, but I’m pretty sure I failed. He had on a bright red button-down shirt with yellow suspenders that hooked to the top of his loose-fitting dress pants. His gray hair was cut short and he definitely wasn’t as fit as I’d expected him to be.
“Yep, that’s me,” he said proudly as he waved for me to follow him. “Come on back and let’s talk.”
I followed him through the gym area and we walked to a small office in the back corner.
“I have all of your paperwork here and the plan your surgeon wants you to follow,” Sherman said as he walked around the other side of the desk. “I understand you’re a hockey player, is that right?”
“That’s right.” I nodded as I sat across from him.
“Okay.” He sat down and leaned his elbows on the desk, folding his hands in front on him. “And I’m assuming they’ve explained everything about your recovery and the timeline we’re looking at?”
I tilted my head back and forth. “More or less. We’re looking at about six months, right?”
“Well, I hope so. It’s all up to your knee, really. These injuries can take anywhere from six to twelve months to get your full range of motion back and obviously, as a hockey player, full range of motion is key.”
“Wait, wait.” My heart started racing as I held my hand up. “Twelve months? No one ever said anything to me about twelve months. I was told six months. I can’t be out for twelve months.”
He stared at me for a second and then gave me a big, tight-lipped smile. “Then we better get going. Hop up and follow me.”
I stood and followed him out through the gym area and over to the opposite corner of the room. He spun to face me as he patted the seat of a stationary bike. “Every day when you come in, even if I’m still working with someone else, I want you to climb up here and spend ten minutes on it. Okay? It’ll help with your strength, range of motion, and really get the heart pumping a little bit, and that’s what we want.”
My eyes glared down at the bike and drifted back up to him. “A bike? Seriously? Shouldn’t we be doing harder stuff to move this along faster?”
Sherman pursed his lips. “Have I told you how to play hockey?”
I frowned. “No?”
“Then you don’t tell me how to rehab you . . . now pedal!”
Sighing, I climbed up onto the bike and rode for ten minutes just like Sherman said. As my timer went off, he looked up and waved me over.
“Now hop on up here”—he smacked one of the exam tables—“and I’ll show you what we’re gonna do next.”
I slid my butt onto the table and pulled my legs up carefully. He rolled up a white towel and put it under my bad knee.
“Now, using your thigh muscles, slowly pull your toe toward you and lift your heel off the ground. Hold that for three seconds and put it back down. This is called a quad set. You’re going to do three sets of fifteen reps.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay.”
Sherman put his hands on his hips. “What now?”
“Nothing. This just seems very . . . simple. I’m a professional athlete. I need to be doing more than this,” I rambled in frustration.
“Fine,” Sherman said as he threw his hands in the air. “You wanna do more than this? Let’s get out of here and go skate a few laps around the ice.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
I gritted my teeth and let out a heavy sigh. “Because I can’t put weight on this leg yet.”
“Exactly!” Sherman said as he reached over and bumped my forehead with the heel of his palm. “Now stop questioning me and just do it.”
I sat stunned, staring at him incredulously. “Did you just bump my forehead?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry I had to get violent, but you’re being so difficult.” He said as he flailed his arms around. I couldn’t decide if he was gay or just dramatic.
“You weren’t violent. It’s just that no one has ever done that to me before,” I said as I pulled my toes back and started doing his exercises.
“Really?” He pulled his top lip up and thought about it for a second as his eyes traveled the room. “Hm. I’m surprised by that, as stubborn as you are.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Sherman was not at all what I’d been expecting in a therapist, but with any luck he knew what he was doing . . . and at the very least he made it interesting.
After therapy I was surprised by how exhausted I was. A couple of weeks ago, I could skate around the ice, chasing the puck and crashing into people, for three to four hours straight, and after just one therapy session all I could think about was a nap. As I was icing my knee at the end, Sherman told me I’d feel tired, but I argued and told him no
way. I was more and more convinced that man knew everything, not that I would ever admit that he was right.
We picked Matthew up from preschool and headed home.
“You want some lunch?” Michelle asked as we all hustled into the house from the rain.
I set the paperwork Sherman gave me for my home exercises on the island and thought about it. “Um . . . nah. I actually think I’m gonna go lie down for a bit. Brody’s supposed to come over later, but I want to take a nap first.”
Her shoulders slumped as she pressed her lips together and gave me a small nod. “Matthew, Maura . . . you guys hungry.”
“Y-E-S!” Matthew yelled out from the family room. “That spells yes!”
“S-S-S!” Maura tried to copy.
Michelle pulled a loaf of bread out of the pantry and giggled.
“All right.” I cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go lie down. Let me know when Brody gets here, okay?”
“Yep,” she said with a sigh as I left the room.
The kids and I sat and had lunch . . . alone . . . again. Well, they had lunch. I didn’t have much of an appetite.
“Why aren’t you eating, Momma?” Matthew asked as he took another bite of his sandwich.
“Mommy had a big breakfast, buddy. I’m not hungry right now,” I lied, taking a few grapes out of the bowl and popping them into my mouth, more for his benefit than mine.
Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.
Matthew gasped and hopped off the stool. “I’ll get it!”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I called, hurrying after him. “We talked about this. You’re not supposed to open the door without me.”
He sprinted to the front door and stopped, lifting onto his tippy toes to see out the window. “It’s Miss Jodi!”
“Okay, hang on. I think it’s locked.” I flipped the lock to the left and opened the door. “Hey! Oh—hi!” I said, realizing she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, is this a bad time?” she asked reluctantly.
“No, no. We’re just finishing up lunch. Come on in.” I stepped back, putting my arm around Matthew’s shoulders and pulling him with me.
