Chapter 5
I stared....
It was just over a month since I had come too, and I stared. Standing beside me were three people, three people whom I was staring at like they'd just sprouted a new head and few extra arms. Those three people where my doctor, my councellor and my physiotherapist.
"No, I don't thinks so, I like it right here thank you very much." I crossed my arms and looked the other way.
"This from the boy who was having a little hissy fit at breakfast because he couldn't get up and do something?" I glared at my councellor. I had NOT had a 'hissy fit' as she had so nicely put it, I was merely letting off some steam. Besides the thought of having to move myself out of the bed under the strength of my own two arms led to a nice little picture of my landing uncerimoniously on my butt. I looked back at the trio and repeated my initial 'no'. The tall dark haired man that was my physiotherapist stepped around the bed and looked me in the eye.
"Slash, you don't have to jump right in, but you DO need to start. Most people can support their weight on both arms for a short period, but I will help you." I glared at him.
"I don't like you any more." I said. He laughed, as did the others.
"That's nice, tell you what. Ask the nurse to give me a call when you're done acting like a two year old." I sighed. Ok so he was right, I was acting a little like a two year old. But I had my reasons.
"Fine!" I say, knowing it's not exactly what he expected. He got an odd look on his face and crossed his arms.
"You know, your SUPPOSED to get defensive, tell me you aren't a two year old and say you'll get in that chair." I look over at said chair. It was you basic hospital wheelchair; Gray and blue and not very sturdy looking.
"Yeah well I never do what I'm supposed to do." He sighs.
"Fine then, you not supposed to get in that chair." I raise an eyebrow at him.
"That was the most pathetic attempt yet." He shrugs. "Fine," I say, "For such a lousy try at getting me to do what you want I will do it, but only because I'm beginning to feel that conking myself on the head is the only way out of this." The three laughed. I reached up and took hold of a triangular metal handle that was dangling above my bed. It had been put there about a week ago when my physiotherapy started. I pulled myself into a sitting position, I moved my legs so that they where dangling over the side of the bed. I looked up at the three people.
"Now what?" I ask. With out a reply my physiotherapist handed me a padded belt. I stared at it, he sighed and put it on me. The he had me put my arms around his neck, reached behind me and grabbed hold of the belt. He pulled me up to that I was more or less up right, pivoted and put me into the wheel chair. I stared at him when he was done.
"I did say only a short period. We have to work on that before you can move your self." I nod and look down at my new, hopefully temporary set of wheels.
"So how do you turn this thing on?" I ask. My councellor crouched down and unfolded two metal foot pedals.
"First you have to get your feet on the foot rests or you won't beable to move." I do as said. It wasn't as easy as it sounded either. Not only did my feet not want to move, but they didn't want to cooperate either. After a short while of fighting with my feet and the rests, my feet were where I wanted them. I looked up at the trio.
"Now what?" My physiotherapist pointed to a small lever beside one of the wheels.
"Now take the breaks off." I pushed the left lever then the right. I looked up at my physiotherapist. He moves behind the chair and pushed me forward. "Now you get to see the physio room." I sighed and let him push me to the elevator. We rode down to the second floor and I was pushed down a long hallway that looked mostly deserted. I looked up at my Physiotherapist.
"This seems kinda ominouse, at least to me. I mean is this floor completely empty or something?" I heard him laugh.
"Try or something." He said and pushed open the door. The room beyond was filled with people.
"So this is physio. I like my room better." I put my hands on the wheels of the chair and tried to move myself. My Therapist wouldn't let go. I looked up at him. "Maybe you didn't hear me, I like my room better." I tried to move again. He leaned over my shoulder.
"Sorry but it's manditory if you ever want to get out of the hospital." I sighed and let him push me around the room showing me everything and even introducing me to some people. We finished the little tour at the back of the room, there where some mats on the ground and hand weights.
"One thing we are going to have to work on is your upper body strenght." I look down at my arms and back at my therapist.
"Ok." I sit back and fold my arms. He laughs.
"But since you don't seem to want to work right now. We'll just do what we usually do." I sighed. My pysio used pretty much the same method as before to get me on my back on the mat. I sighed and stared at the ceiling until he came into my view.
"We will have to teach you to do this yourself sometime before you leave here." I raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled. "Believe it or not you can do it yourself." At that he set himself beside me and started on the streatches. As he worked I found myself wondering how I would be able to do any of these myself. They all involved moving my legs.
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I watched from the hallway as the doctor, councellor and physiotherapist tried to convince my son to get into the wheelchair. I could tell Slash was scared; he was woried about having to go out of the room that had been keeping him safe since the accident. He was scared about what it will be like 'on the outside' so to speak. I knew they would have this same problem when it was time for Slash to head home. I sighed and looked down at my watch, it was time for me to go home. I wanted to be there when the contractors arrived. I knew my husband would be there to handle it, but I wanted to be there too on behalf of my son. One last look in the room revealed Slash being transferred into a chair. I gave my unknowing son a smile and left the hospital.
When I reached home, my husband's car was in the driveway and a truck was parked at the road. I entered the house through the garage to find my husband and another man discussing changes that would need to be made. Now that Slash couldn't walk, the house needed to be made wheelchair accessable. We were going to have a ramp put in on the outside of the house and in the garage. A lift would need to be installed so he would be able to keep his old room. There would be other changes too, with the doors, and the upstairs washroom. It was going to take a while, but hopefully most of the changes would be done by the time Slash was ready to come home.
I stared....
It was just over a month since I had come too, and I stared. Standing beside me were three people, three people whom I was staring at like they'd just sprouted a new head and few extra arms. Those three people where my doctor, my councellor and my physiotherapist.
"No, I don't thinks so, I like it right here thank you very much." I crossed my arms and looked the other way.
"This from the boy who was having a little hissy fit at breakfast because he couldn't get up and do something?" I glared at my councellor. I had NOT had a 'hissy fit' as she had so nicely put it, I was merely letting off some steam. Besides the thought of having to move myself out of the bed under the strength of my own two arms led to a nice little picture of my landing uncerimoniously on my butt. I looked back at the trio and repeated my initial 'no'. The tall dark haired man that was my physiotherapist stepped around the bed and looked me in the eye.
"Slash, you don't have to jump right in, but you DO need to start. Most people can support their weight on both arms for a short period, but I will help you." I glared at him.
"I don't like you any more." I said. He laughed, as did the others.
"That's nice, tell you what. Ask the nurse to give me a call when you're done acting like a two year old." I sighed. Ok so he was right, I was acting a little like a two year old. But I had my reasons.
"Fine!" I say, knowing it's not exactly what he expected. He got an odd look on his face and crossed his arms.
"You know, your SUPPOSED to get defensive, tell me you aren't a two year old and say you'll get in that chair." I look over at said chair. It was you basic hospital wheelchair; Gray and blue and not very sturdy looking.
"Yeah well I never do what I'm supposed to do." He sighs.
"Fine then, you not supposed to get in that chair." I raise an eyebrow at him.
"That was the most pathetic attempt yet." He shrugs. "Fine," I say, "For such a lousy try at getting me to do what you want I will do it, but only because I'm beginning to feel that conking myself on the head is the only way out of this." The three laughed. I reached up and took hold of a triangular metal handle that was dangling above my bed. It had been put there about a week ago when my physiotherapy started. I pulled myself into a sitting position, I moved my legs so that they where dangling over the side of the bed. I looked up at the three people.
"Now what?" I ask. With out a reply my physiotherapist handed me a padded belt. I stared at it, he sighed and put it on me. The he had me put my arms around his neck, reached behind me and grabbed hold of the belt. He pulled me up to that I was more or less up right, pivoted and put me into the wheel chair. I stared at him when he was done.
"I did say only a short period. We have to work on that before you can move your self." I nod and look down at my new, hopefully temporary set of wheels.
"So how do you turn this thing on?" I ask. My councellor crouched down and unfolded two metal foot pedals.
"First you have to get your feet on the foot rests or you won't beable to move." I do as said. It wasn't as easy as it sounded either. Not only did my feet not want to move, but they didn't want to cooperate either. After a short while of fighting with my feet and the rests, my feet were where I wanted them. I looked up at the trio.
"Now what?" My physiotherapist pointed to a small lever beside one of the wheels.
"Now take the breaks off." I pushed the left lever then the right. I looked up at my physiotherapist. He moves behind the chair and pushed me forward. "Now you get to see the physio room." I sighed and let him push me to the elevator. We rode down to the second floor and I was pushed down a long hallway that looked mostly deserted. I looked up at my Physiotherapist.
"This seems kinda ominouse, at least to me. I mean is this floor completely empty or something?" I heard him laugh.
"Try or something." He said and pushed open the door. The room beyond was filled with people.
"So this is physio. I like my room better." I put my hands on the wheels of the chair and tried to move myself. My Therapist wouldn't let go. I looked up at him. "Maybe you didn't hear me, I like my room better." I tried to move again. He leaned over my shoulder.
"Sorry but it's manditory if you ever want to get out of the hospital." I sighed and let him push me around the room showing me everything and even introducing me to some people. We finished the little tour at the back of the room, there where some mats on the ground and hand weights.
"One thing we are going to have to work on is your upper body strenght." I look down at my arms and back at my therapist.
"Ok." I sit back and fold my arms. He laughs.
"But since you don't seem to want to work right now. We'll just do what we usually do." I sighed. My pysio used pretty much the same method as before to get me on my back on the mat. I sighed and stared at the ceiling until he came into my view.
"We will have to teach you to do this yourself sometime before you leave here." I raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled. "Believe it or not you can do it yourself." At that he set himself beside me and started on the streatches. As he worked I found myself wondering how I would be able to do any of these myself. They all involved moving my legs.
**************************************************************************** ***
I watched from the hallway as the doctor, councellor and physiotherapist tried to convince my son to get into the wheelchair. I could tell Slash was scared; he was woried about having to go out of the room that had been keeping him safe since the accident. He was scared about what it will be like 'on the outside' so to speak. I knew they would have this same problem when it was time for Slash to head home. I sighed and looked down at my watch, it was time for me to go home. I wanted to be there when the contractors arrived. I knew my husband would be there to handle it, but I wanted to be there too on behalf of my son. One last look in the room revealed Slash being transferred into a chair. I gave my unknowing son a smile and left the hospital.
When I reached home, my husband's car was in the driveway and a truck was parked at the road. I entered the house through the garage to find my husband and another man discussing changes that would need to be made. Now that Slash couldn't walk, the house needed to be made wheelchair accessable. We were going to have a ramp put in on the outside of the house and in the garage. A lift would need to be installed so he would be able to keep his old room. There would be other changes too, with the doors, and the upstairs washroom. It was going to take a while, but hopefully most of the changes would be done by the time Slash was ready to come home.
