Chapter 4

September 22, 1999

Don's progress has come to a standstill. He's been getting some strange sensations in his legs, like a tingling or throbbing pain. At first he thought it was just muscle strain when he overdid things, but now it's becoming a chronic problem. I was afraid this might happen. He tries to cover it up, but I can see that he's in pain most of the time. He just is so drained... he doesn't seem to have energy for anything more than what it takes for him to get through each day. He's losing hope, and it's killing me to see him like this.


"Major! As your appointed physical therapist, I demand that you get back to your exercise immediately."

Judy looked up from her writing to see an exasperated Dr. Smith following an equally exasperated Donald West.

"Forget it, Zach, I've had it."

"You entrusted me with your rehabilitation, and I insist that you continue despite the occasional set-backs."

"If I remember correctly you volunteered for the job. Now just un-volunteer yourself and leave me alone."

"I will not divest myself of the responsibility of supervising you. You are more in need of my guidance now than ever before. You must heed my advice and take advantage of my expertise in the area of the delicate psyche of the human form."

That was it. Don abruptly turned his chair around to point his finger in Smith's face and shouted, "You know what? You're fired!" He rolled into his bedroom and shut the door.

Dr. Smith shook his head as he commented to Judy, "Dear me, and I thought he was out of the anger stage. Now we must suffer through that and the bargaining stage yet again before we reach depression. I'm afraid we have a long road ahead of us, dear Judith."

Judy gazed at the closed door of their bedroom. "Actually, Dr. Smith, I think he's leading us right into the depression stage. This is the one I've been dreading."

She stepped over to the door that separated her from her husband and raised her hand to knock on the door, but stopped in mid motion.

Dr. Smith put a comforting hand on her shoulder and whispered, "We will get him through this."

She impulsively hugged him and wiped at the tears in her eyes. Pushing her fear aside, she straightened up, took a deep breath and knocked on the door before entering. Don was sprawled across their bed on his stomach, his head buried in the crook of his elbow. Gently, she massaged his neck and waited a few minutes for him to speak, but he didn't stir.

"What happened?" she finally asked.

"I fell off the exercise bike. The motor conked out and I landed on the floor."

"Did you get hurt?"

"I don't know."

"Let me check you out."

She pulled his shorts off and found a gash that ran down his right thigh. It was bleeding, but wasn't deep. She cleaned and bandaged it, and then asked if she could give him a sponge bath. Since he didn't reply, she continued washing his legs and his back and then helped him turn over. She started with his feet and worked her way up his thighs, kissing each part she finished. He had his eyes closed and didn't notice until she kissed his good thigh.

"Judy, don't."

She sighed, but continued his bath. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

She finished and helped him into his sleep shorts and adjusted the pillows so that he could be as comfortable as possible.

"Did you take anything for the pain today?"

"No."

"I'll do some more research."

"I've already done it. It's called central pain and there's not a whole lot that can be done about it."

"You can take stronger pain medications."

"All they do is knock me out. I just have to learn to live with it."

"Don't lose hope, Don."

He squeezed her hand and whispered, "I won't." He knew it was a lie, but he didn't want to drag her down with him.