CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Samantha Carter turned her head and opened her eyes slowly. The face that greeted her was that of her physical therapist, Lorna Green. She was a small woman, with short brown hair cut in a simple bob. Her green eyes radiated compassion and strength. Despite her small stature, Lorna was strong as an ox. She was able to do almost all the required manipulations of Carter's limbs herself, and in those that she couldn't manage alone, she was helped by two orderlies who gave Teal'c a run for his money in the size department. Jerrod and Tim were nice enough guys, and Sam had been glad they were there many times already in the weeks since her accident.

Sam had met Lorna only a few days after she was admitted to the hospital. Even before the surgeries to stabilize Sam's leg and pelvic fractures were completed, Lorna had electrodes placed on Sam's legs to help keep the muscles from wasting away from lack of movement. She assigned a massage therapist to visit daily and work over the swollen limbs to get some of the swelling out. After surgery, Sam had been placed immediately into a constant passive motion device to keep her joints mobile. Her legs were in motion 24 hours a day. The machine moved imperceptibly slowly, but it did move, and Sam's legs were in a different position every time a new visitor arrived. These activities had been increased slowly over time as much as the incisions would allow. Once the incisions from all of the plates, pins, wires and screws that now held Sam's legs together had healed, massage was increased, water therapy was started, and the brutal work of trying to get Sam up and walking again was started in earnest. The passive motion machine was removed, and Sam and Lorna became intimately acquainted.

When Lorna showed up today to take Sam down to her PT, Sam really didn't want to go. She was getting very tired of the constant attempts to get her legs to work properly. The nerve damage that had occurred along with her bone injuries had yet to heal. There had been some progress, but it was far too slow for Sam, and every day her frustration at her own body grew.

Sam could feel her legs now (and that was a mixed blessing, as the pain was now immense), and they would sometimes sort of respond to her wishes, but there was still significant impairment of her motor skills. Her doctors told her that the bones were aligned. They had fixed that part of her injuries, but that was only one part of the equation. Sam had to get up and stand on her legs for them to heal well. If she didn't bear weight on the injured limbs, her body wouldn't get the signal to grow bone, the healing process would take a lot longer, and she would probably need more surgeries. She would also lose even more strength in her legs than she already had, and complications were more likely. Sam knew all this. However, it didn't make getting out of bed and facing the sadomasochist that masqueraded as a physical therapist any easier. Sam could've sworn that Lorna enjoyed causing her pain. That she liked inflicting torture upon her victims. Sometimes it seemed as if Lorna was the most evil Goa'uld in the universe. Always waking Carter up from a good sleep. Always making her flex her knee farther than was comfortable and then holding it there for what seemed like forever. Constantly making her to do more than she could. Today was one of the days when Carter just wanted to throttle the little woman.

"Go away."

Lorna smiled at that and then patiently replied. "Dr. Carter, we need to do your daily session in the poles. Come on, Tim will get you into your chair and downstairs. I'll meet you there."

Lorna Green was used to recalcitrant patients, and so she just never gave them the option of not complying in most cases. Samantha Carter was no exception. Her patients might curse her and send a thousand dirty looks her way, but in the end it was her job to give them the best chance they had to function normally again, and that meant that she had to push them. Most patients left and never looked back once they recovered or otherwise went on their way, but a few stopped by to thank her or sent a holiday card, and those few made it all worthwhile. Those that actually walked out the door after serious injury made it all seem worth it.

So, on those days when Dr. Carter was particularly reluctant to work, Lorna ignored it and moved on anyway. Shortcuts and breaks didn't get the job done here.

Sam groaned and pulled her covers up to her chin. She was enjoying her afternoon nap. She had been moved to an extended care facility some time ago, and there was plenty she could do during the day, but she found it easier to just sleep when she could. There was only so much reading and TV she could handle.

"Not today, Lorna. Just one day off, please?"

Lorna smiled at the wheedling. "Nope. Doesn't work that way. Come on, up you go. Tim!"

The large, long haired orderly appeared from around the corner. Sam soon found herself loaded into her wheelchair and taken down two floors to the large PT room. Lorna had said it was time for her pole work. That was Sam's least favorite part. The poles were parallel bars, like in gymnastics but closer to the ground, that she had to navigate. The idea was to get her legs under her and her body vertical to try to regain the strength and skill needed to walk. It never went that way. Sam's arms would do most of the work, with Tim and Jerrod on either side to catch her if she fell, and by the time she finished her assigned number of reps, Sam's shoulders and arms would feel like they were on fire. Sam was getting pretty ripped up top from all this, but she was no closer to walking, and she knew it. The worried glances she caught from the orderlies and the little therapist told her they weren't pleased with her progress, and neither was she.

Sam wanted to get out of this place. Move back home. Get used to living like this. She had come to terms with the fact that this might be how it was going to be from here on out. Daniel had told her about the situation with the Tok'ra and their other alien allies. Sam was on her own. Supposedly, her little Nazi friend just wanted to see a little more progress before sending Sam home with explicit instructions on outpatient therapy, but Sam didn't know what to think. She felt like she would be here forever. A burden on everyone. With no light at the end of the tunnel. The only things that kept her going were the visits from her friends, but those weren't as common as they used to be, and General O'Neill, especially, was coming by less and less often. Sam's mouth watered as she thought of him and the small bits of candy he always brought with him. God, she felt as if the world was going right on by her. Her friends all had to get back to their lives, and rightfully so, but what about her? Was she to just live out her days in this infernal place, forgotten eventually by all who knew her?

"Alright, Colonel? You ready?" It was Jerrod who spoke this time. He'd done a short stint in the Army when he was younger, and always referred to his patient by her rank. Carter appreciated it in a way, as a small reference to her former life and her work to achieve that rank. In a way, though, it also hurt, because while the Air Force and the SGC had, for now, just put her on indefinite medical leave, she knew her discharge papers were lying in a drawer somewhere waiting to be signed and delivered when the powers that be decided she was in a less delicate state. The delay was probably General O'Neill's doing, and that she did most sincerely appreciate. Disability insurance and other things she had put in place in case of something like this were serving her well for now, but eventually she would need to change a few things in order to survive financially. She tried not to think about that. Most days she did ok, and just concentrated on trying to get well, but today was not a good day.

Sam finally managed to answer the orderly, who was waiting for her response before helping her up into the poles for her session. "Not really, Jerrod, but guess we have to do this, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just following orders." The orderly threw her a smirk far too reminiscent of another man she knew, and Sam gave him a weak smile back. She took a deep breath and nodded. Time for Torture 101 for today.

Sam was halfway through her assigned exercises for the day when she collapsed into the waiting arms of Jerrod and Tim. They held her up as firmly as rafters in a house, and she was in no danger, but the sound that came out of her mouth was harder to hear than any fall would've been. A sob that sounded like it came from the depths of Sam's being rang out in the cavernous room. Tears began to stream down her face, and her body was racked by spasms of pain.

Lorna ran over to her patient, and the two orderlies looked to her for guidance. At a small nod from the therapist, the men lifted Sam up and over the bars, and took her to a small room off the main room. It was private and made an attempt at being comfortable and soothing. There was a small couch there, and the men laid their patient gently on it, then covered her with a blanket. This was obviously not the first time something like this had happened, and after dimming the lights in the room, the staff left Sam to her emotions for a while. After ten minutes of uncontrolled release, Carter somehow fell into a light sleep, and no one disturbed her.

When Sam woke, it was much darker in the PT room than it had been when she drifted off. The light coming through the large windows had softened quite a bit, and there were no other patients present. Sam's only company was Lorna Green, who was sitting quietly nearby in one of those oversized circular chairs popular with college students. She sat with her legs underneath her and a cup of coffee in both hands. She was looking intently at Sam. An open book lay face down on the small table nearby.

"Hey there," Lorna called in a soft voice.

Sam took a second to get her bearings before answering. "Hey. What happened? Why am I still here?"

"Well, you got upset during your exercises today, and we brought you over here to calm down a bit. You fell asleep, and I thought it best to let you off the hook for today. That couch has been a respite for many people in your shoes."

Sam snorted at that. "Oh, so you have a lot of people who can't cut it, huh? Can't live up to your grueling standards? Or just give up under the pressure?"

"Well, there are some who give up. Some who don't push themselves hard enough and don't accomplish what they probably could otherwise. Some who do push themselves as hard as they can and still come up short because of the severity of their injuries. I'm not going to lie to you, Dr. Carter. This job doesn't always have a happy ending."

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?"

"No. This is telling it like it is. Because none of those people we just mentioned are the majority. Most people work hard and accomplish most of the things we set out for them, and often more. But there are a lot, and I mean a LOT, of people who get frustrated. Who lose it sometimes. Who lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel. Who feel completely isolated and alone. Who feel like they're taking one step forward and three steps back every day. Who get angry beyond belief at the injustice of what has happened to them. Who get discouraged at the slow pace that defines recovery from a serious injury. I have a feeling that's what happened to you today, and I want to tell you, you aren't alone. We can get through this, but I need you to help me. It's perfectly normal to feel the way you do, but you can't let it incapacitate you, or you won't be able to do this. Only you can decide how to play this, Colonel. I can't promise you that you'll be 100 normal after all this-you did experience major trauma-all I can tell you that I will do my damndest to be sure you are as good as you can be. But I can't do it alone. You have to keep your head above water, ok? Sometimes you will sink below the surface, and days like today will happen again, but you have to keep fighting. So, what do you say? Keep going or throw in the towel? I can have you discharged tomorrow with an outpatient plan and referral to a home care service that can help you deal with living as you are now, but I think we can make some serious progress if you give me some more time and we keep up intensive workouts. Up to you. What do you say?"

Carter just stared at the tiny woman for what seemed an eternity. She reminded her very much of another short doctor she'd known. What was it with small women and power complexes? How did this woman know exactly what Sam had been thinking when she'd lost it earlier? It was uncanny. Janet Fraiser would be proud of this little Napoleonic power monger. The two must have been cut from the same mold. Slowly Sam felt a small grin slide over her face at the memory of her friend, but then she remembered the therapy sessions. The pain, the frustration. It was just so much. Quietly, under her breath, she mumbled, "it just hurts so bad." She was ashamed to think that thought, as she always thought of herself as tough, but it was true. This was harder than anything, ANYTHING, she'd ever done before. The enemy was her own body, and it was like being a prisoner inside herself.

Lorna looked at Sam with sympathetic eyes. "I know."

"And it doesn't seem like it's helping. I don't feel any stronger."

"I know it seems that way, but you are making progress, Sam. Really. Two weeks ago you couldn't stand on your legs at all. Now, you touch them to the floor a little. I realize you can't move them forward much at all yet, but you can bear a little weight on them. That's what counts. Baby steps. One step at a time. It's cliché, but there it is."

Sam's face lit up, making her look like a kid on Christmas morning. "Really? I'm getting better?"

"Every day, Sam. Every day. So, what's it gonna be? Willing to give me a little more time? Or do you want to give up and play the martyr?" Lorna ignored the fact that she'd given Sam progress reports at regular intervals, complete with range of motion data in hard numbers, force plate analysis that analyzed how much weight Sam was putting on her feet at any given moment in unforgiving numerical format, and subjective analysis of how Sam was doing. Patients always forgot about that when they got like this, and it was totally understandable. In fact, Lorna couldn't remember a patient who hadn't done something like this at some point. Trauma had a way of doing that to people.

Sam was silent for a while, chewing on her lip. Finally, she looked up and right into Lorna's eyes. Lorna saw a steely glint behind the blue that she hadn't seen before, not even on a very good day. There was determination and a little anger in those eyes, and Lorna was glad to see it. Her gamble had paid off. Samantha Carter was one who needed called out on the carpet when she fell. She needed a little push. Some patients needed a pat on the back, some needed a slap in the face. Lorna had gambled Sam was the latter, and was glad she'd been right. She knew what was coming before the words left Sam's mouth.

"I can do this a while longer. Bring it on." A small grin pulled one corner of Sam's mouth up as she said this, and for the first time in a while, she felt a little encouraged.

'Oh, yeah,' thought Lorna. 'We're getting somewhere now. If you thought I was tough before, Sam Carter, you just wait. We'll fight this together. Bring it on, indeed.'