I'm having a lot of fun playing with characters that JE created.
Chapter 3 – Defining Home
I woke up to the sound of arguing in the hall. I didn't even have to concentrate to recognize the players of the drama. My mother was arguing with Bobby regarding where I should go when I was released from the hospital tomorrow.
After being awake for a week, Dr. Deep Voice, whose real name was Dr. Johns – I just couldn't call him by that, announced I no longer needed to have hospital level care but needed to be moved to some sort of rehab facility that was capable of handling the beginning physical therapy I could withstand while waiting for my legs and ankle to continue healing. I also needed around the clock care as I was not capable of caring for myself or tending to the wound on my back that was not healing to the doctor's complete satisfaction.
There, someone could assess my progress in order to make recommendations for my long term needs. While there was still some swelling of my spinal column it was continuing to recede. Some days I could feel nothing and had no movement below my waist, while other days I experienced numbness and a pins and needles feeling interspersed with stabbing pain along the sciatic nerve. The doctors felt this was encouraging news as the anti-inflammatory medication along with carefully controlled movement were allowing for the hope of continued improvement as the site of the stabbing healed.
From what I could gather Dr. Deep Voice had recommended two rehab centers one near the hospital which my mother felt was the best solution and another about an hour away which Bobby felt was the best option outside of having me released to his care and moved to RangeMan. My mother was adamantly opposed to either of those options. I was trying very hard to not get completely pissed that no one was asking my opinion.
As far as I could tell my mother felt the facility close by would allow my family and friends to see me everyday. She did not seem concerned that the staff there, while certified to care for someone in my condition, had very little direct experience.
Bobby wanted me to come to the building so that he could supervise my care, but if that were not possible his research showed the facility outside of town had specialists on staff with experience dealing with spinal injuries and had the equipment and resources most recommended for my current needs. While it might be further away he felt the higher level of care would more than make up for the drive.
Bobby made some excellent points. I felt he had done his research and trusted his opinion completely. If I was consulted in this decision I would go for the facility out of town.
My mother finally became frustrated and announced she was going to speak with me alone. My door opened and I tried to prepare myself for the confrontation that I feared was about to come.
"I have no doubt you heard that discussion outside your door." She announced without bothering with the pleasantries of "hello" or "how are you today".
"Yes, I caught the gist of it." I confirmed.
"I'm sure you will want to go along with what they suggest but I want you to think about a couple of things before you do. First, if you go out of town we will not be able to see you as often. You may not care, but it is a horrible thing for a mother to know her child is hurt and not be able to see them. While things are so uncertain I would hope you would want to be surrounded by your family."
Without waiting for my response she barreled on. "The other thing you might want to consider before you go too far away is that while these men may be hanging on your bed and at your door around the clock now, at some point if you do not get better you will be a burden to them. And do you really want to be trapped in a nursing home away from family when these men abandon you?"
I wanted to correct her that I was going to a rehab facility, not a nursing home, but her words slapped me across the face. Oh God! Was I a burden already? I knew they felt guilty about my injuries. Perhaps they were only being so attentive to appease their own consciences. If I was never able to walk again there would be no place for me at RangeMan so it would make sense that my visitors would eventually slow down and then stop altogether.
When Dr. Deep Voice came in for my late afternoon assessment we discussed my transfer options and I told him I would like to be moved to the rehab center near the hospital. He seemed surprised.
"Ms. Plum, may I ask why you chose that facility?" He inquired.
"In the event I do not progress as I hope, I think it would be best to stay close to my family." I tried to explain as simply as possible in the hope he would let it go.
"Sometimes having regular contact with loved ones is the encouragement a patient needs to progress. I hope that will be the case for you." He consented.
My paperwork was in order and a room had been arranged for me so I asked if I could be transferred right away. There was no reason to delay so he had the transport team called for.
Bobby came into my room as the nurses were removing my monitors. His face went from happy to see me to livid at what was happening in a matter of seconds.
"Why are you being moved?" He asked.
"I talked to Dr. Johns today and told him I would like to be moved to the rehab down the street. Apparently my ride is ready so I am about to move." I explained.
"Why? Steph, Why are you going there? Please don't do this. They can't care for you like you need. Please, let's talk about this first." He tried to stop the nurses' progress while he was talking to me.
"Can you stop for moment!" He finally barked at them.
Leaving like frightened dogs with their tails between their legs, the nurses abandoned their work at his stern tone.
"Bobby, waiting is only putting off the inevitable." I tried to put on a braver face than I felt in the hope of keeping the conversation light.
"Steph, Why? Why do you want to go there?" He asked sitting on the edge of my bed and looking down at my face.
"I don't know how long I'll have to stay there, but I don't want to be a bother to anyone. My family wants to see me and wouldn't be able to do that as well if they had to trudge out of town. Besides, you guys have more important things to do than holding a vigil at my bedside waiting for any sign of improvement. RangeMan needs you all working, not babysitting me. I won't lay in a bed feeling like a burden." Somehow talking to Bobby I had trouble holding my tongue and had blurted out the very thing I did not want to say.
"Steph," Bobby's tender voice called to me while he picked up my left hand. "Please listen to me. No one from RangeMan is babysitting you. They argue over the chance to just stand outside your door and so far all the guys have been volunteering to visit with you on their days off because they miss seeing you at the office. I can promise you not one person has come to this hospital out of guilt. It would be impossible for you to be a burden. You are a part of our family and we want the very best care for you. This place is not able to give you the best level of care."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to get away from my mother's guilt trips and nagging about how my insistence upon doing this ridiculous job had put me in this state. But the seed of doubt planted by my mother that the guys would get tired of me was too strong to abandon.
"Bobby, I really appreciate all you have done for me. And I know you have my best interest at heart. If I begin to show great improvement or if it seems they aren't able to help me then we can discuss moving me later, but I think it would be easier to try this first and see what happens." I hoped he would give in. I wasn't sure I was able to stand up to Bobby.
He looked in my eyes and I felt them well up with tears. I tried to blink them away hoping he would let it drop.
"Okay, Steph. It is your life and your body so it is totally your decision. If this is what you want I will support you completely. But just so you know you aren't getting rid of us. We will be there everyday watching how they take care of you. I won't stand there and let them give you substandard care. If it's not going well can we discuss moving you again later?" He asked.
I smiled and nodded. Leave it to Bobby to realize I needed this piece of control in my life. It was my decision and even though he disagreed with me completely he was going to go along with what I wanted.
I was transferred and settled in my new room at the St. Matthew Rehabilitation Center four blocks away from the hospital. By the time the nurses and orderlies had me settled in my new bed my back was in agony and the pain running down both legs was agonizing.
Not surprisingly there was a gentle knock at the door followed by the entrance of my evening contingent of Merry Men. Cal, Hal and Vince stepped in with a big arrangement of flowers. I thanked them for their thoughtfulness and despite trying my hardest I could not keep the pain I was experiencing off my face.
Cal bent over me and asked if I was okay.
"I'm fine. I'm just a little tender from the move. Dr. Johns warned me to expect it." I added hoping they would let it go.
Vince disappeared while Cal continued to rub my good hand.
Hal called over to me, "What would you like for breakfast in the morning? I thought I'd pick up some doughnuts on my way to my morning surveillance. I'll get us some coffee too." He offered.
"You don't have to do that Hal. I know you guys have work to do and you can't continue to babysit me." I suggested.
Vince stepped back in with a nurse on his heels. "Forget it Bomber. You are stuck with us. No amount of telling us to leave will get us to go. Hal is coming with breakfast because he will be partnered with me and I want the excuse to get some doughnuts too." He said with a wink.
The nurse came to my side with a syringe in her hand. "Here is a little something to ease your pain and give you a good night's sleep."
I was about to protest that I didn't like the heavy pain meds but she put it in the port in my hand without giving me a chance to say anything.
Cal leaned over and put a kiss to my head. "Go on to sleep then Angel. We'll be back to check on you tomorrow." They filed out before the tears began to fall. Luckily the medication kicked in before the tears turned to sobs.
For the next five days my schedule was the same. I was awakened by one of the guys bringing me coffee and doughnuts. My physical therapist, who I referred to as Ms. Hun - as in Attila the Hun, was very no non-sense and did not allow for questions about what we were doing. The more I tried to learn what the goal of the exercises were the less she talked.
The first three days featured an afternoon entertainment of a visit from my family. Grandma Mazur walked the halls trying to find eligible men recovering from hip replacement surgery. She said it would make them easier to keep up with. While Grandma was wandering the facility my Mom was talking away catching me up on the latest Burg gossip including the fact that Joe met a nurse named Gina which meant I had lost my last chance to have a husband. Apparently I could not have a husband now as no one would want me in my current condition.
The third day she asked if I was ever going to get out of the bed and do something about my hair. I was going to argue with her that I would like nothing more than to do that, but felt it just wasn't worth the energy involved. It wasn't like she would listen to me anyway. Before she left that day she said, "Since it doesn't seem like you are going to get better I may start coming every couple of days. There is no sense in rushing dinner to see you if there isn't going to be any change."
On the fifth day Ms. Hunn walked in and moved my legs in the same manner she had each day previous without speaking one word. My whimpers of discomfort did nothing to slow her movements. After taking me through my paces she came back with some light weights for my arms reminding me the best way to reclaim any independence was to increase my upper body strength. I asked if I had been cleared for upper body weights since I knew the incision on my back was still not completely healed. But she simply held out the weights until I took them.
I was rarely moved from my room and I was way beyond stir crazy. I tried to convince myself this might be my new life and I needed to adjust to being inside.
I tried to do what was asked of me without complaining. When people came by to visit I put on the happiest face I could but with each passing day I found I said less and less to my visitors as the more I spoke the more likely it was I would break down.
The Merry Men were beginning to ask me what was wrong. I no longer finished my doughnuts or coffee and when Woody brought me a Pino's sub as a surprise for my lunch yesterday I was only able to force a few bites before I claimed to be tired. Food had lost its taste and I was struggling to make myself eat much.
Tank came in that night and sat by my side. "Little Girl, are you going to tell me what's wrong? Are you still in a lot of pain, are they not treating you right? Something isn't right and I can't stand to see you like this."
I wanted to reach out and comfort my huge friend but I knew if I spoke I would break down and I didn't want to lose it, especially in front of Tank.
"Look at me," He encouraged.
As I turned my face the first tear fell. "I'm trying, Tank. Really, I'm trying."
"I know you are Little Girl. But are they trying to help you?" He asked while reaching over to wipe my face.
"They seem to be bustling around me pretty often so I assume they are. I just expected to be able to sit up and do more than lie in this bed waiting on people to come to me. I don't want to complain; maybe I just didn't realize how long this would take." I answered no longer able to control the tears. I flung my arm over my face to hide the blotchy redness I knew would be there.
He pulled my arm away and stroked my face. Holding my eyes with his gaze he spoke in his deep bass voice and the words seemed to find their way into my heart. "You are not to blame. Dr. Johns said they should be sitting you up every day and there were a variety of activities you were to be exposed to in order to make your therapy more interesting. I can't let this go on. I'm going to talk to Bobby tonight and see what we can do for you. I can't imagine how hard this and we all see the toll it is taking on you to not have your independence. We want to find ways to help you get your life back. Will you let us help you?" He asked waiting for me to answer.
I couldn't find my voice so I nodded instead.
"I know you wanted to be close to your parents, but don't forget, we are your family too and we aren't going anywhere." He promised. Then, as was his tradition he kissed my head and told me, "Sleep tight, Little Girl," Before walking out.
The next morning I woke up with a sharp pain shooting down my right leg. I tried to rub it but the cast on that hand didn't provide much comfort. My eyes shot open when I felt a hand appear on my leg.
Bobby was working his hand along the muscle rubbing it in small circles from my knee to my thigh. It took only thirty seconds before the spasm in my leg began to submit to his attention and subsided.
"Thank you," I said with a croak as I needed a drink to sooth my dry throat.
Bobby picked up the warm beverage on the table next to my bed and poured it out. He got me some fresh water and brought it to me. He smiled while I drank but it never reached his eyes.
Ms. Hunn walked in and asked if I had eaten my breakfast yet.
"Not yet," I answered her.
She seemed completely unconcerned and instead announced, "We will do your exercises now and I will tell them to bring your meal when you are finished."
She began her daily torture bending my legs at the knee and stretching them to the side and up and down. I looked over at Bobby trying to distract myself from what she was doing.
He jumped up immediately when I grimaced. "Do you need to move her legs so quickly?" He demanded. "You aren't allowing her muscles to adjust to the movement and it is giving her cramps and unnecessary pain."
Ms. Hunn huffed at him. "I believe I am the physical therapist here. This isn't the most cooperative patient I've ever worked with and I've found working with her quickly is the only way to get through the prescribed regimen daily. I assure you, if you had to listen to all her questions you would work briskly too."
Bobby immediately pulled out his phone for a brief one sided conversation. "Yo. Yes, call and have the transport ready immediately. She's not staying one minute more with this woman. If anything they're making her worse. I agree. No, not the facility. I'm bringing Steph home." Then he shut his phone and looked at me with a full faced grin.
"How do you feel about a drive?" He asked bouncing like a kid at Christmas.
"Bobby, I can't go back to my apartment. I can't even sit up on my own, much less stay there. What are you doing?" I asked in a panic.
If anything my questions only encouraged his joy. My door opened and Cal entered with a matching face of happiness.
"Bomber, you need to listen carefully. You aren't going to your apartment to be alone. You aren't going to your parent's house to be nagged at and fed daily doses of guilt. He said you were going home, and you are. We are taking you to Haywood where your family has a plan to take care of you." Cal stepped up to explain.
"Home? Haywood?" I said not able to make sense of what they were saying.
Bobby brushed my hair out of my face. "We tried to step back and give St. Matthew's a chance, but they are completely incapable of caring for you. Let us carry you home where you belong. I've found a therapist for you that will come to the office so you can be around people who believe in you and want to see you. It would mean the world to all the guys and I think you would find it would suit you much better than this hell hole."
His sincerity was apparent. I had tried to do this on my own and despite how miserable I had been to be around the guys never gave up on me. I think my mother was wrong. I wasn't a burden, I was family. It's not always about what you say; it is about what you do. And these guys had shown me they would be there for me over the long haul.
"Okay," I said through my tears. "Take me home."
