Obsessed

Chapter 1

Growing up, I had a father who had to go through physical rehab twice a week because of a terrible car accident. Part of one of his legs had to be amputated and he spent years in and out of the hospital getting fit for a prosthetic. I guess that's where my interest for wanting to be a physical therapist came from. It came from my dad. I remember the frustrating screams from him when he couldn't get his leg to do what he wanted it to, or the joyful moments when he figured out a new trick to make walking easier. He had medal rods put into his upper right leg for the bone to heal with since it had been shattered in the collision and his left lower leg from halfway up his shin and down was where he needed his prosthetic to be. 

I remember wanting to learn how to help him put himself back together again. I remember researching on the internet for hours and hours at a time looking up tips for amputees. 

"Your father has trouble with admitting that he needs help," I remember Mom telling me. "Most men do, but that doesn't mean that they don't need help. They just don't know how to ask, and they definitely don't want to show it,"

Growing up with a dad like this was so hard, but it made me appreciate the little things and pointed me towards the career I ended up majoring in, in college.

Fourteen years later from the time I was 12 and struggling with my dad's disability, I became a physical therapist. Most of the time, I had car accident or motorcycle accident victims. Their disabilities ranged from their hands to their arms to their lower abdomens or their legs. I had a real talent for helping them; a lot of them were out in just fourteen months; half of the average recovery time for those with the extent of their injuries. I usually just had the same patients but occasionally would get a new one. A man in a wheelchair wheeled his way down the ramp into the small, carpeted opening room. 

"Excuse me," he asked, his stubble on his face was dark brown as were his eyes and thick head of slightly wavy hair. "I'm Aaron Clemmons and I have the 4 o'clock with Jer," he was talking to the nurse we'd had stationed behind the counter working on the computer, but I was writing down slips and forms to send to the doctors of my patients.

My full name was Jerra—basically the first half of the name Jeremy—Marx, and people almost always mispronounced Jerra. But Aaron never did.

"That's me," I smiled kindly. I walked over with my clipboard of medical information and shook his hand with my remaining hand that wasn't holding the clear clipboard. I looked him in the eyes when I said that but I flickered them back to the clipboard. I flipped through the papers.

"It says, here, that you were in a car accident May 7th, 2 weeks ago and you were released from the hospital today but had made your appointment for your physical therapy appointment the day of the accident which is scheduled for today, obviously."

"That's right," Aaron grinned. His teeth were straight as hell and glowing white. There was something odd about him, but half of the men that came in were twice my age and harmlessly flirty, but Aaron—there was just something off--something that made that flirting he threw my way almost scary.

"You also stayed in St. Mary's Hospital, off of Clark?"He nodded in confirmation. "That sounds right to me," he smiled again. That smile basically was glued to his face the entire time.

"Well let's get started," He followed me down the wooden ramp into the gym with yoga mats and different areas sectioned off for people with different injuries. There were other physical therapists there, working with others so it was slightly noisy but I could hear Aaron with his questions and concerns in his regular voice.

After day one of physical therapy, based off his injuries which made it hard for him to straighten out his legs and bend them on command, I estimated that he would be in recovery for two years—just a little longer than most of the people I worked with. The extent of his injuries were really bad—normally it would take three to four years for recovery but I thought that I could really work with him. He just managed to surprise me with his recovery even more than I'd expected.