Chapter 5 - A New Position II

Ron Weasley enjoyed discipline and routine. He used to live a perfect athlete's life, starting his mornings bright and early with a jog and shower before heading off to training. He maintained a consistent workout schedule, followed his diet plans, and would be in bed at a healthy hour every night.

Since the injury, this perfect balance became chaotic and disordered. Ron's morning jogs were replaced by muscle stretches and response tests. Sponge baths acted as a substitute for showers. His once carefully crafted meal plans now consisted of liquidised porridge or chicken and vegetable soup. However, Ron was affected most by the change in his sleeping pattern, which resulted in a very sour mood each morning.

Fortunately, time had an almost magical capability of letting things fall into place and restoring balance. Over a week had passed since Ron first arrived at St. Mungo's Hospital, and slowly but surely, he had developed a new routine for himself.

Ron would awaken early, shortly after eight, to find his best friend waiting at his bedside. Harry would arrive with his usual cup of coffee and a different packet of biscuits each day. Then the pair would discuss topics such as football, the Weasley's, Harry and Ginny's wedding planning, and any other nonsense they could come up with to pass the time. At nine, the nurse on duty would arrive to perform responsiveness tests on Ron before serving him the liquid porridge he had come to dread.

Lavender would join them shortly after ten to assist the nurse in giving him his daily sponge bath. Harry had volunteered to help a few times, but Ron insisted this wasn't necessary. Finally, alternating their visits depending on the day, the Weasley's would arrive after eleven.

Throughout the day, Hagrid would take Ron to his various checkups before returning him to the cubicle. His family would wait for him every day and keep him company until it was time for dinner and bed. Each would leave with promises to return the next day and repeat it all over again.

Routine. It was simple, familiar, and just what Ronald Weasley needed in his life.

Monday morning rolled around, ten days after the incident. Harry and Ron wasted away the time before Lavender was due to arrive with intense debate.

"Think about it—this is a desert island, and you have to pick wisely," Harry said. "Mayonnaise simply doesn't fare well in that kind of climate!"

"Yeah, but define a sandwich because technically you can put anything between two slices of bread," Ron replied. "For example, could I bring a Jessica Alba sandwich to this desert island?"

Harry seemed to contemplate Ron's question briefly before nodding, "I suppose, but is that really going to be your choice?"

"Nah, she's way out of my league. I'll stick with the Chicken Mayo sandwich," Ron replied as his stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

"Didn't you eat, Won-Won?" came the voice of Lavender from the cubicle entrance.

"If you can call that sludge they serve as porridge, breakfast, then yeah, I ate," Ron groaned.

Checking the illuminated wall clock, he was shocked to see it was now well past eleven, "Bloody hell, two hours flew by."

"Yes, well, I did tell you I would be arriving at eleven today because of the consultation with Doctor Randall," Lavender reminded him. "What were you two even talking about anyway?"

"What sandwich would we pack if we were stranded on a desert island," Harry said matter-of-factly. "It uh—it went off track a little towards the end, though."

Ron let out a chuckle as the curtains were pulled back on the cubicle, and his sister, Ginny, entered.

"Morning," she greeted, leaning down to kiss Harry before waving at Ron and Lavender. "I just saw Doctor Randall and his team outside, so I think they'll be in here soon."

Ron stiffened and said nothing. He found himself wishing time would slow down just enough to delay whatever it was that Doctor Randall would have to say to him. He wasn't ready to hear about his lack of recovery progress just yet. Lying on the bed, Ron listened with dread to the footsteps walking across the tiled hospital floor.

Pulling back the curtain, Doctor Randall entered the cubicle. He was joined by a few nurses, who all stood in the corner, waiting for the doctor to speak.

"Ronald, I have good news," Doctor Randall said, skipping the introductions. "Your upper body has reacted well and has healed to a state whereby we no longer need to restrain it or restrict your movement."

"That—that's good. Does it mean I can walk?" Ron asked, completely thrown by the unexpectedly positive news.

Doctor Randall let out a sad chuckle before composing himself and saying, "Not quite. Your cervical and thoracic vertebrae were relatively unscathed following your injury and have recovered sufficiently over the last ten days. Simply put, you can use your arms and neck, but nothing below the waist, yet."

Yet. Ron couldn't help but feel that Doctor Randall had added that word to soften the blow. It was like covering up a poorly baked cake in plenty of frosting to hide the awful truth inside—his legs weren't getting better.

"So I can use my hands, but not my legs, and you don't know if they'll ever work?" Ron asked, wanting to hear it said explicitly.

"As we have discussed before, there is a possibility of that. The negative effect on your knees, bladder and sexual organs will remain. But I am confident you will at least see some improvement, especially as you are now in a position to begin physiotherapy," Doctor Randall explained. He motioned to a nearby nurse, who nodded and left the cubicle.

This pissed Ron off. He forced himself not to roll his eyes because here it was, more beating around the bush from the doctor. Bottling his rising temper, Ron gave only a nod in acknowledgement.

"So what's happening now? Why are the nurses here?" Harry asked, looking at the remaining nurses. He, Ginny, and Lavender, like the nurses, had been quietly observing the conversation thus far.

"Firstly, they'll remove the straps around Ron's neck and back before assisting you in sitting up. Then, you'll be transferred to your wheelchair, and a porter will assist in educating you on its proper usage," Doctor Randall explained. "It will take some getting used to, but you will have upper body movement and capabilities. You can experience your previous life and routine with it, albeit with some minor adjustments."

Ron scoffed at the thought of minor adjustments. What a ridiculous way to cushion bad news.

The nurse who had exited earlier returned with an empty wheelchair and placed it at Ron's bedside.

"You will be in good hands. My nursing team is one of the best," Doctor Randall said. "I shall leave you in their company, and we can catch up in a few days before we discharge you."

"I get to—to go home?" Ron asked, his stomach dropping at the prospect.

"In a few days, yes," replied the doctor, leaving the ward before Ron could ask any further questions.

The nurses started their work as soon as the doctor had left. They ushered his visitors out of the way to create space before carefully freeing Ron from the straps that held him down. Immediately, a tingling sensation travelled down his arms, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Ron was able to flex his arms.

When the nurses started to adjust him into a sitting position, Ron's breathing hardened as he struggled for air. Too absorbed in his discomfort, he didn't register the oxygen mask someone placed over his mouth. Soon after, Ron relaxed slightly as his airways opened up, and he found himself sitting up in bed as Harry, Ginny, and Lavender clapped and cheered.

Ron zoned out as the nurses spoke to him, instead focussing on those two words, minor adjustments. There really wasn't anything about this situation that could be considered minor. A wheelchair was a world of difference from what he was used to. Surely adjusting to that wasn't going to be a short-term thing? It could take him months, even years, to learn to live as a wheelchair user. Ron didn't think he was ready to accept that fate just yet.

"Mr Weasley," the voice of one of the nurses broke his thoughts. "You're all set. Full upper body motion, but we still advise you not to overexert yourself. After lunch, the porter will give you a demonstration of how to operate your wheelchair. I suggest you go for a little test drive to get a feel of it."

Ron just nodded in reply.

"You'll be able to sit up in your bed from now on, so it will be a lot more comfortable. But if you feel any pain, then just use the alarm to let us know," the nurse explained before leaving with her colleagues.

Lunch consisted of chicken soup, and it should have been a significant milestone—Ron's first time feeding himself since the injury. Instead, he merely swirled his spoon around the bowl, pushing the soup around until it became cold. Lavender had offered to help him, but Ron just sat slumped in his bed, eyeing the wheelchair beside him with apprehension.

However, there wasn't much time to sit brooding as the porter, Hagrid, entered the cubicle to begin the demonstration. Thanks to his size and strength, Hagrid lifted Ron and placed him into the wheelchair without any additional assistance.

"Considering it'll be you lot wheeling him around and all, you may as well listen in," Hagrid told Harry, Ginny, and Lavender.

Hagrid launched into an explanation of how to operate a wheelchair. He showed them how to unfurl it for usage, how to maintain and clean it, how to push someone sitting in the chair, and how to apply the brakes. Hagrid spent several minutes teaching Ron how to use his hands to grip the push ring and steer himself. Ron, however, just went through the motions, unwilling to engage himself in learning this new skill.

"Right then, reckon it's time to go for your test drive, Ron," Hagrid said eagerly despite Ron's attitude. "This bit is always the most fun."

Harry, Ginny and Lavender remained in the cubicle as Hagrid pushed Ron out into the hospital courtyard, whistling a tune that sounded like Weasley is our King.

Hagrid offered plenty of words of encouragement as he watched Ron sit in the wheelchair. Ron did not bother trying to steer the chair himself, choosing instead to stare around at the other people around him, who were all enjoying the luxury of walking.

"I know what you're thinking, you know," Hagrid said as he applied the brake to Ron's wheelchair. "But you've got to stop thinking negatively. It's a wheelchair, not a death sentence." His tone was harsh and to the point.

Ron was taken aback by his gruff tone. Hagrid was usually upbeat and friendly despite his appearance.

"I've done this a long time, Ron. You have a second chance, don't blow it," Hagrid said, kneeling down to look at Ron. "They say Weasley's are meant to be brave."

"How do you know what they say about us?" Ron asked, matching Hagrid's previously harsh tone.

"I'm an Arsenal fan, Bill and Charlie Weasley. What a pair, eh?" Hagrid chuckled. "They always talked about bravery in their post-match interviews, said it was a family trait. Are you gonna prove them wrong? Show the world that some Weasley's don't have the bottle?"

Hagrid's words had an immediate effect. Ron had always been overshadowed by his older brothers, Bill and Charlie, especially as they had become professional footballers long before he and Ginny. It wasn't that he didn't look up to them because he did, but was it wrong for him to want recognition of his own? To be recognised for his own actions.

Bravery. Ron could be brave. He was brave.

Grabbing the push ring, Ron propelled himself forward in the chair. He rode up the path before turning a little roughly and returning to Hagrid, who was beaming with pride. They spent the next half an hour discussing football as Ron wheeled himself around the courtyard. They only stopped when Hagrid had to remind him not to overexert himself, "too much of a good thing," Hagrid had said.

"I'm telling you, Charlie Weasley could have played for England! He was a ruddy brilliant winger and could have been world-class. Still, I've gotta admire the lad, looking after endangered species across Europe. Love animals, I do, so it's a worthy cause to me," Hagrid said as they exited the lift.

"Yeah, we were all a little shocked at first, but I've seen him with those animals, and he's happy to be making a difference," Ron replied.

Harry, Lavender, and Ginny were sat waiting in the cubicle when the pair returned. Catching sight of Ron steering himself, they scrambled to their feet and rushed over.

"Welcome back, nice wheels, mate," Harry greeted, eyeing Ron's new wheelchair.

"Cheers, they'll take some getting used to, but I reckon I've already mastered it," Ron said, sharing a smile with Hagrid, who waved and then left the cubicle.

"How're you feeling?" Lavender asked.

"I feel—"

"They made a big decision for you today, but you need to remember, they're doing what's best for you. Even if you don't like it, it's for the best," Harry interrupted.

"Are you optimistic? Nervous?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not—"

"Trust the process, even if it's going slower than you'd like," Harry interrupted again.

Growing frustrated at his constant interruptions, Ron raised his voice and said, "Will you shut up and let me speak?"

Harry looked shocked at the outburst but nodded, allowing Ron to finally speak, "I'm not quite sure. To be honest with you, I reckon I'm a bit of both."

After chatting with Hagrid, he realised he shouldn't fuss about his circumstances or tip-toe around each situation. Ron knew this whole affair was already fucked up, so of course, there would be setbacks or hurdles along the way. But that didn't mean he should throw away good opportunities to move on with his life. It was best to be brave and mentally prepare himself, and if disappointment came further down the line, he would deal with each obstacle as it came.

"Whatever Doctor Randall says is coming my way, I'll be ready. This wasn't a position I expected to find myself in, but I'm ready to make the most of it," Ron said, his face resolute.

"Oh, my brave Won-Won!" Lavender wailed as she flung herself at him, kissing him deeply on the mouth.

Shocked at the initial impact of the kiss, Ron eventually found himself sinking deeper into it. Soon the pair were locked in a fierce battle of tongues and did not surface for air.

Harry avoided looking at the pair and instead stared intently at the ceiling. Ginny had a disgusted look upon her face as she was forced to watch her brother's public display of affection. She let out several exaggerated gags and wretches while pretending to vomit over the pair of them.

"You do realise your younger sister is sitting at your bedside, right? You sick freak!" Ginny yelled out, causing the pair to finally break apart.

Ron looked positively dumbstruck, and Lavender straightened herself up and tried to flatten down her hair.

"I should get going. My shift starts soon. Bye, Ron," she said, waving to him as she prepared to leave. "Harry, Ginny," she acknowledged, with a lot less enthusiasm.

"Bye, Lav," the three of them replied at the same time as she walked out of the cubicle.

Her departure left an awkwardness in the air, and deciding it was best to change the subject, Ron asked Harry, "What biscuits have you picked today?"

"Custard creams," Harry replied, holding up the packet for Ron to see.

"Ugh," Ron groaned, making a face. Not particularly fond of this biscuit, Ron made a mental note to get himself to the hospital shop later to buy something more desirable.