Farm Tag

Chapter 7. « Physiotherapist. »

"That's it, stick to the bars and walk slowly. We're in no hurry, so take your time."

I watch as the physiotherapist places her hand on Reid's waist, his veins popping out on his bare forearms. Under his white T-shirt, his arms tremble as he supports his own weight with them rather than with his legs.

"Release some weight on your feet."

He collapses on the mat and catches himself on the bar. She also grabs his arms and helps him sit up. His face is full of sweat, he looks like he's going to faint.

"It's okay, it's completely normal. You'll have to start training again, your arms have lost their strength from being in splints for a long time without moving."

She massages his forearms and he seems to relax. My blood runs cold, I clench my fists and look away.

"Your arms have recovered well... You can do pull-ups but no exercises that require the use of your legs, okay?"

"Okay."

"Miss?"

I turn my head towards her, forcing myself to look at her without bitterness.

"He needs his crutches."

I grab the crutches resting against the wall and hand them to him.

"Is the treatment working? Is the pain bearable?"

He nods his head.

"Perfect, we'll keep the momentum going. You've still got your military health insurance, so it won't cost you anything for today. But don't hesitate to put some cream on your wounds if you have any and to put bandages on your hands for your blisters."

I look at the time on my phone. We're early and yet I want to scream that we're going to be late and that we have to leave right now. She kneels in front of him and tries to massage his thighs, but he winces in pain.

"Okay, I see. The pain is really targeted here. Have you ever had an X-ray at the hospital?"

"Yes, I did. There's no bone damage, but..."

"The shock prevents you from standing up -she cuts off her words."

"That's right."

"There's a psychological aspect to your recovery. I think you should talk to someone or consider seeing a psychologist if you want to get back on your feet quickly."

He looks at her, neither angry nor delighted, but he looks at her. As if he was drinking in her words.

"The reason I'm telling you this is because, as a result of being anaesthetized and not stimulating your legs, your brain will think you have none left and the next step will be amputation. This is why the first sessions are painful, because they remind the brain of the weight of the legs and the pain of impact."

I get up and grab my backpack, bringing the physiotherapist down to earth. I tighten the strap, she could have spent all day giving her speech about leg ligaments.

"Think about it, it could be someone close to you or it could be me. I'm in a good position to know how traumatic it can be and I have the keys to getting you back on your feet."

Reid presents his former soldier's card to pay for the session, then climbs into the car after putting the crutches on the back seat. I start up and the car shakes under the engine.

I drive home, my hands clutching the steering wheel.

"Are you going to see a psychologist?"

"I don't know." he says.