No Pain, No Gain

May 1951

For almost three months, Isla had faced daily challenges as her body healed and she worked to strengthen and stretch muscles she had long taken for granted. It had been far more difficult than she had imagined. Up to now, she had only dealt with minor sprained or pulled muscles, blisters on her toes, and back spasms. All of which were quickly overcome with very little downtime. This was totally different.

She had always thought of herself as a patient person. She didn't let little things bother her. She started believing she was wrong on both counts. Her patience was greatly tested as she waited for the bruising and swelling to dissipate. For the first few weeks, she received daily massages, and a therapist manipulated her muscles until the time she could regain control. She was encouraged to walk as much as she was able, so she and Mark spent hours exploring the hospital grounds and surrounding areas.

It had been painful. Much more so than she had expected. There were days when it was hard to go on, but her determination pulled her through. Then she progressed to more demanding stretching exercises and continued to attain higher levels of rigorous therapy. At times she ended in tears, but Mark encouraged her, and she sucked it up, continuing to move forward. "No pain, no gain," she said to herself.

Mid-April brought a few days where she withdrew into herself, not willing to cooperate with the therapist and asking for a break. The therapist said no, but did back off a bit. He could tell something was going on. Mark had noticed it too. He was feeling the same way, although it took him longer to realize why. He found her crying in the deserted solarium. He took her into his arms and held her close.

"It's okay, Zu's," he said kissing the top of her head. "We should be celebrating his birth about now." She nodded, so thankful he understood the loss she was experiencing all over again. They held each other for comfort and shared thoughts of what might have been.

"I'm so proud of how far you've come," Mark said, when he felt they needed to stop wallowing in self-pity. "You can't let this setback the progress you've made."

"I know," she agreed, "it's just so hard to go on when I think of what I hoped to be doing at this time."

"You planned to begin working out at the barre as soon as the doctor cleared you, once you had given birth. You were always certain about going back to dance," he reminded her.

"I still am," she answered. "I just needed some time to remember and move on." She sniffed and smiled at him. "I'll be okay, now. Thank you for the pep talk."

"Are you kidding? I know how much those Dior dresses cost. I'm not about to lose a wager with you," he mockingly protested. This caused her to laugh and for the first time, she didn't clutch her ribcage in pain.

"How's the therapy with your hand?" she asked. The cast had been removed and he had his own strengthening regimen to follow.

"Not bad," he said rotating his wrist for her to see. "I'll be back to tennis and handball before you know it. Just like you'll be back on pointe."

"I still have a long way to go," she sighed, "and at times, I'm nervous I won't be able to achieve my goal. But with you at my side, it will go much quicker, and I will succeed."

She faced a similar reaction on Mother's Day, but Mark helped by arranging calls to both their moms and Granny Mac to help her through. Her birthday was coming up and he was having difficulty deciding on how to celebrate. He wanted it to be special since she had been working so hard. She was just beginning to do basic barre work, and pointe shoes were still far off, but she continued to make progress.

She had reached a point where they could go out once or twice a week for dinner or sightseeing. They would dance together in their hospital suite, and she was looking forward to soon be able to dance in a nightclub with a live orchestra. Suddenly he knew what he wanted to do for her birthday and while she was working out, he went to make a number of phone calls and check the train schedules.

Isla's birthday arrived and she was surprised her therapy had been suspended for two days. She was even more surprised when her mom, her mother-in-law and Granny Mac arrived for a visit.

"Time to get dressed and pack an overnight bag," her mother said.

"What's going on?" Isla asked, still stunned they were actually there.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Mark announced. "We're taking the train to Paris and calling on Mousier Dior for a private showing"

"What?" Isla couldn't believe it.

"And I will buy you whatever dress you want," he pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

"You are actually coming with me to Dior's?" she was astounded. "And you're going to buy me a dress?" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "You are the best husband EVER!" she proclaimed and went to get ready.

Mark realized he enjoyed the excursion more than the women. It had been so long since he had seen his wife so happy and carefree. She seemed herself again. It was worth the price tag that caused him to raise his eyebrows in shock. He watched in amazement as his mother and hers selected several outfits for themselves and additional gifts for Isla. She was having a ball, and he loved every minute of it. He couldn't tell her, but she probably realized it by the joy on his face as he watched her. To admit he had enjoyed himself would open him up to future trips to Paris and large checks written to Dior. That would never do.

The second part of his gift would arrive next week. He couldn't wait to see her reaction for what else he had planned.