Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel Read online

  “I’m just trying to help, Kit. I know I haven’t been through this myself, but I do have the benefit of the experience of helping a lot of other people through it.”

  Neil got him on the lift, put the belt across it, and hit the button that started it moving up.

  “Help me teach my legs to do what they’re supposed to.” Kit had other doctors for the rest -- not that he was listening to them, either.

  “That I can definitely do.” Neil grinned and got his chair into the bus, the ramp pulling up into the bottom half of the door.

  “Are you always cheerful?” Kit asked before he could stop himself. Maybe Neil was a morning person and got crabby late in the day.

  “Nope. But I try to be.”

  “Huh.” There wasn’t really anything more to say to that, Kit figured, so he looked at the driver and nodded a hello. “How long is the drive, Neil?”

  “Less than ten minutes. Door to door service -- can’t fault that.”

  Kit grunted, which was rude even for him. “Sorry,” he said, trying not to sigh. “Thank you for coming by for me. My dad really appreciates it, I know.”

  “It’ll take a load off for both of you.” Neil patted his shoulder.

  Kit forced himself not to shudder or throw off the touch. His therapist said that his reaction to having people touch him was related to how much he’d needed in the earliest days, in the hospital, and that it would fade over time. Also, he knew that Neil was going to be touching him a lot more as they worked together. Neil had been good about it the last time they’d had therapy, so Kit did his best.

  “As long as Dad can work and do what he needs to do.” That was all that Kit needed, right then. An easier life for his dad.

  “You let me know if there’s other stuff we can help out with that’ll make life better for you and your Dad, okay? There’s a lot of resources out there.”

  Kit bit at his lip and nodded. “Mostly it’s just stuff like this. Making me independent of him so he can still have a life. He shouldn’t need to take care of me all the time.”

  “No, but he’s there for you -- he wants to be. Don’t shut him out totally.”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t.” Not his dad. That was all he had left. “But he works all day, comes home and cooks for me, helps me do the dishes, helps me make my lunch for the next day, does the laundry ‘cause I can’t reach... it’s just so much for him.”

  “You’ll get there, Kit. Your prognosis is so good. You’ll be helping out in no time.”

  Kit closed his eyes so Neil wouldn’t see them rolling. “We’ll see.” The pain meds were doing their job, though, and the constant pressure he felt was easing off a little. “Maybe.”

  The bus pulled up by one of the hospital entrances. “Here we are -- didn’t take long at all, did it?”

  No, it really hadn’t. Great.

  Kit nodded and sat up a little straighter in his chair, trying to look like he was eager to get right to it. He used to love working out.

  Between the driver and Neil, they had him out of the bus and through the doors in no time. Neil let him wheel himself down the hall to the elevators. “You ready for a hard workout? I’ve put together a pretty vigorous regimen for you.”

  Kit looked up at Neil, not bothering to hide his grimace. “I assume you took into account how fast I hurt and how tired my arms get?”

  “Yep. I’ve got cool down times, hot-tub time, as well as work at the bars. I know what I’m doing, Kit.” Neil pressed the button for the elevator.

  “Sorry,” Kit mumbled. “It just...” He shut up. He wasn’t going to say he was worried about the pain getting worse. He wasn’t going to tell this guy he was scared.

  “What? Hey, man, if you have concerns, you need to tell me. I’m not a mind reader, okay?”

  “It gets frustrating. Having everyone in my life planning things for me to do. I don’t have much control over anything right now.” There. True and enough of a share. Kit looked at the numbers above the elevator and willed the doors to open.

  They opened, but that didn’t stop Neil from answering. “I can see that. We can adjust your schedule, your workouts, as we find out what works for you. I’ll consult you.”

  Kit looked up at Neil, probably a little too fast. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. This is your recovery, Kit.”

  “But I’m your patient. And everyone else’s.” He did roll his eyes then. “Can we go in now?”

  Neil opened the door to the therapy room for him. “After you.”

  Kit pushed at his wheels and moved into the room. His second time and he was already starting to hate it, even though Neil had put some personal touches into it. “Okay. Ready.” Ready or not, here he was.

  ***

  They fell into a pattern, Neil grabbing the parabus and going to help Kit get to the hospital. They’d do the physio, and then Kit would head on to other appointments while Neil worked with his other patients.

  Neil thought it was going pretty well.

  Today would be the test -- he hadn’t gone with the bus to get Kit and could only hope that didn’t mean Kit decided to skip it today. It was important, though, that Kit could do this on his own. If the man didn’t want to get well, he wasn’t going to.

  He glanced at his watch and forced himself to stay seated at his desk and not go look out the window to see if he could tell if the bus had been by yet. A few times he could hear low voices from the nurses’ station, but he couldn’t make out words, not even enough to hear if any of the voices were male.

  Finally, about three minutes before Kit’s appointment time, a nurse walked past Neil’s door alongside Kit’s wheelchair, taking him to the therapy room. Kit didn’t look in or say anything, and he was gone too fast for Neil to see his face. At least he’d arrived.

  Neil gave the man a couple of minutes -- long enough for Kit to settle in, not long enough for him to start fretting -- then grabbed his clipboard and Kit’s file and headed for the therapy room.

  When Neil opened the door, Kit was facing away from it, looking at the bar he used to pull himself up and support his weight like it was new and interesting object he’d never seen before, instead of an item he’d been using long before he’d met Neil. He didn’t look over or give any indication at all that he’d heard Neil come in.

  It gave Neil a moment to really look at Kit. The man had shaved this morning, or maybe last night, his face quite handsome without the scraggly beard. Neil could easily be attracted to Kit; even the grumpy attitude had an odd sort of appeal. Or at least it would, if weren’t the only aspect of the man’s personality that Kit had shared so far.

  “Morning, Kit,” Neil called out, heading right over.

  Kit said nothing, but he did turn to look, his face blank. He didn’t look mad or upset, just perfectly neutral. That was the attitude Neil didn’t like, the nothingness.

  Neil touched Kit’s shoulder. “How’re you doing this morning, man?”

  “Fine.” Kit’s voice was as neutral as his face. “What’s the goal today?”

  It made him wonder what was up -- well, it also made him want to send that neutral expression scurrying. “Same as yesterday, plus one on every exercise.”

  “All right.” Kit reached for the bar and carefully pulled himself up, giving the work all of his attention.

  Neil moved around to the other end and came forward until he was about three steps in front of Kit. It was enough room to catch Kit if he had to, but at the same time he wasn’t crowding Kit, either.

  Kit pulled himself, painfully slowly, along the bars and then turned. Neil trotted around to face Kit again.

  He waited until Kit was about halfway along before speaking. “You got anything on your mind today?”

  “You didn’t tell me that you weren’t coming this morning.” Kit kept moving, his face tight as he worked.

  No, he hadn’t. “I wanted to see what would happen if your routine changed on you, even just a little bit. It’s important that you’re prepared for w
hen things don’t go like you’re expecting them to.” He also had to admit -- to himself at least -- that he’d been worried Kit would cancel if he knew Neil wasn’t going to be there this morning.

  Kit got to the end and turned himself again before speaking. “Routine.” He nodded sharply. “Got it. Everything is a fucking routine, and it doesn’t matter if it’s fucking courtesy to let someone know. And now I know where I fit. Thanks.”

  “And where exactly is it that you fit?” Neil kept his voice calm, easy.

  Kit struggled toward the far end, his breathing hard. “Patient. Full stop. Problem to be solved.”

  Neil stepped close enough to keep Kit from taking another step. He put his hand on Kit’s, curled around it. “You’re not a problem to be solved; you’re a human being to be helped. That’s my job, Kit, and it’s one I enjoy because I care about my patients. I care about you.”

  Kit snatched his hand away and promptly fell with an abrupt cry, unable to bear his own weight or to catch himself again on the bar. “Don’t touch me!” He pulled himself away from Neil, dragging his body by his arms for a few inches before stopping. “Don’t!”

  “Let me help you, Kit. Please.” He didn’t touch Kit again, though; he waited for permission.

  “No.” Kit had his eyes closed tight and he was still breathing hard, though Neil couldn’t be sure if he was in pain from the fall, the therapy, or something else. “Leave me alone.” He wasn’t whining, but he was clearly in distress.

  “Your choice is me or a nurse, and you have five seconds to decide you want the nurse instead of me.” Kit clearly needed help; Neil was going to give it.

  “I can get into my chair on my own.” Kit didn’t sound so sure, though.

  “You’ll reinjure something, and I’m not letting you do that just because you’re pissed off at me.”

  He went to the wheelchair and locked it in place at the end of the bars closest to Kit, then he moved along the ramp and put his hands beneath Kit’s arms, supporting him and moving him to the chair.

  Kit didn’t say anything else, probably because he needed his breath for moving and was too busy clamping his jaw against pain to be mouthy. He didn’t resist Neil’s aid, but when he was finally back in his chair he shied away from Neil again.

  Neil pushed the wheelchair until it was next to his stool, then he sat and gave Kit a rueful smile. “I didn’t mean to piss you off or make you feel unimportant.”

  Kit was glaring down into his own lap. “Yeah, well. That’s what I get. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, actually, it does matter. You matter, Kit.” Neil glanced at the clock and pictured his schedule in his head. “I’m going to spring something else on you, too. Let’s go out for lunch. Just you and me. We can talk about anything you like, and you can order anything you want off the menu, my treat.”

  “No.” Kit looked up then and shook his head. “No. I’m a patient, not a friend. You can have lunch with someone else.”

  “I’m just trying to help you, Kit. Really.”

  “And I’m doing my work.” Kit shook his head. “Just don’t pretend to be a buddy when you’re not. Don’t be warm and then jerk me around to teach me some kind of life lesson. I’m here to do one thing and that’s learn to walk.”

  “Whoa, hold up there. I have not jerked you around, not once. I’m sorry my not telling you I wasn’t going to be there this morning upset you.”

  “It was rude.” Kit’s glare came back. “But then to find out you did it so I’d deal with a change in my schedule? I’m not some fucking experiment. If you doing things to help me get better is more of that, then don’t. Just don’t. And don’t be kind to me; don’t chat with me. Don’t even pretend to like me if all I am is a patient. I don’t need any more false impressions, thanks.” His eyes filled and he blinked furiously, turned his head away.

  “Being friends and being therapist/patient are not mutually exclusive, Kit. You’ve been pretty adamant about this just being business for you -- the work of getting you better, but even so, I’ve seen you as a man as well as a patient.” He leaned in, careful not to touch Kit, but not letting the guy avoid his gaze, either. “Stop trying to push me away so damn hard all the time.”

  “You’re the one who was acting one way and then another!” Kit flared up again. “And why should I let you in if you’re going to do stuff like this to me?”

  “What if I hadn’t been there for some other reason? What if I slept in and missed the bus?”

  “Then it’d be fine. But spending every session talking to me like I’m a real person and then doing this just see me react is an asshole move, and I don’t care how you see it. Do you have even the faintest idea how very much my life sucks? And do you know that ninety percent of the reason is sucks is because every single one of my friends is gone? Have you ever been so lonely that it’s an actual pain?”

  “No, Kit, I haven’t. I didn’t realize you’d started to come to think of me as a friend. And I’ve apologized for the mis-step, so you need to stop being a jerk.”

  “Yeah, well.” Kit rolled his eyes. “This is me. A jerk. Can I go home now?”

  “Hey, at least I was trying to help you when I didn’t tell you what was going on this morning -- you’re just pushing everyone away so you can wrap yourself up in your loneliness and pain.”

  “Whatever.” Kit unlocked his wheels and looked around, then pushed himself to where he’d left his coat. “Have a good lunch.”

  “You too, Kit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sometimes it was better to just let the patient stew. Kit wanted to wallow in his hurt, and Neil was pretty sure nothing he said at the moment would make a bit of difference.

  “Sure.” Kit yanked his jacket on and left, narrowly missing the edge of the door with his chair. He was silent on the hall carpet, but Neil doubted that he was taking his time getting out of the unit.

  He sat back with a sigh and shook his head.

  Well.

  That had gone... not as badly as he’d feared it could, but not good, by any definition of the word.

  He’d just have to keep trying.

  ***

  Kit called his father from the front lobby of the hospital. He didn’t know if he could use his cell phone there, of if he’d have to go outside, so he used the payphone.

  His father agreed to come and get him and take him home, and Kit used the time he was waiting to come up with a thousand things to say that would calm his father down and not let him worry. As it turned out, though, his father didn’t ask why he was leaving therapy early or how it had gone. He just helped get Kit in the front of his car and put the wheelchair in the back and took him home.

  Kit made them sandwiches for lunch as a silent thank you, and his father went back to work, leaving Kit with the TV, his books, and the stack of mail he’d seen that morning.

  Tony was getting married, and he’d invited Kit to the wedding. Tony, who had been his buddy all through high school and college. Tony, who had spent a week sleeping in the hospital when Kit had been hurt. Tony, who hadn’t even called to let Kit know he was engaged.

  Kit wheeled himself to the bathroom and wondered if he could get himself into the tub for a bath and then back out again and decided that he couldn’t. There were pull bars installed, but wet and slippery wasn’t a good combination, and he’d already fallen once today.

  In his bedroom he pulled the blankets up on his bed and tried to smooth out the wrinkles, then he gathered up an empty glass and some power bar wrappers he’d left on his night table. He couldn’t do a lot of cleaning, but what he could reach, he’d do. If he didn’t, it would be his dad.

  Kit took the glass and trash to the kitchen and put it all away, then reached up to open the freezer. He could maybe take out supper to thaw, if he could reach. He was pretty sure there was a roast in there. Arm way up, he felt for it, then settled back, empty handed. He wheeled back a few inches to see farther in.

  Roast spotted, he moved back and locked his wheels. Bracing h
imself with one arm on the chair, he lifted and reached again, straining hard.

  The chair went left, he went right and then down, the roast tumbling out and hitting him hard on the collarbone. The pain of that, though, was nothing compared to his hip and ribs, knocked hard by the chair and the edge of the fridge.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Kit winced, trying to breathe and think and move. He couldn’t do all three, so he picked wincing and breathing for the time being and lay still. He couldn’t see his chair, other than a wheel slowly rotating above his head.

  He reached for it and tugged. If he could get the chair righted, he might be able to get back into it, but one tug told him that moving was still a very bad idea.

  He knew he had to call his father. Again. He wasn’t sure if his father would have even gotten back to work yet. Tears stung at the backs of his eyelids. He couldn’t keep doing this to his father. He couldn’t keep being helpless and hurt and alone.

  Well, he might have to do alone, since he was a jerk, but he couldn’t keep calling his father and causing him to worry and lose work.

  Kit rolled slightly and got his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through all the services he had available to him, all the help what was there for him if he only asked. He stopped at Neil’s name.

  “This is a bad idea.” Pain moved like dull ice along his side, though, and he pushed the button for Neil’s direct line.

  “Hello, you’ve reached Neil Kirkpatrick.”

  “It’s Kit.” He took a breath and winced again. “I fell, and I need some help. Can you send someone, please?”

  “You’re at home?”

  “Yes.” Kit closed his eyes. “In the kitchen. I think the door is unlocked.”

  “Okay, I’m coming. Don’t hang up. I’m taking a taxi, so I can talk as I’m not driving myself.”

  “It’s not really a 911 kind of thing,” Kit said, trying to joke. It did hurt though. “I didn’t want to call my dad back again.”