Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 24

    "Okay, Brandon, can you move into this chair for me?"

    Ryan, the physical therapist assigned to Brandon's case, waited patiently while Brandon looked at the wheelchair less than a foot away as he sat on the edge of his hospital bed, lowered so that his feet could rest on the floor. Carefully, he braced his weight against the mattress with his right arm, Ryan's hand securely wrapped around his bicep, guiding him as he stood. Swaying gently, he stood still for a few seconds, then shuffled around painstakingly and gripped the arm of the wheelchair as he lowered his body into the seat.

    "Good, good, that's excellent, Brandon!" Ryan enthused, careful to moderate his volume in the dimly lit room. "I need to test your strength. Will you hold your right arm out like this, with your upper arm in line with your shoulder and your hand and forearm pointing down to the floor? Just like this," he added, demonstrating, as he saw confusion cloud Brandon's face, unsure what the therapist wanted.

    "Oh. Okay."

    "I'm going to apply pressure to your shoulder, and I want you to try to hold your arm steady - try not to let me push it down, okay?" Brandon held his arm firm briefly against the pressure before caving, allowing his arm to drop to his side.

    "That was excellent, Brandon, thank you. Can you hold out your right arm in front of your body for me, as straight as you can? I'm going to try to bend your arm, and I want you to try to resist me, try to hold it straight, okay?"

    Brandon nodded and held out his arm straight, but wavering slightly up and down and from side to side. Ryan gently grasped his forearm and applied upward force, as if to compel his arm to bend. Brandon held his resistance for a second and then lost the fight, watching sullenly as his arm bent against his will.

    "Very good, Brandon, that was great! We're going to try the same thing with both of your legs, alright? Can you try to hold your right leg out straight in front of you, like this? Hold it as straight as you can while I try to bend it."

    The tests continued for several minutes, assessing his wrist and ankle strength and many other muscle groups as well, all with similar results. "Excellent work, let's take a five minute break, shall we? We'll try walking next."

    Brandon nodded and sighed, then closed his eyes and rested his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on the arm of the wheelchair. All too soon, Ryan's quiet voice broke the silence once more. "Brandon, are you ready to try walking? Are you too tired? We can do this another day."

    Forcing his eyes open, Brandon shook his head and sat up straighter. "No...I'm ready."

    "Perfect."

    Ryan stood and retrieved a grey metal cane with four little feet from the corner of the room and placed it in front of the wheelchair. "First, I just want you to stand still and hold onto the cane, okay? I need to make sure it's the right height for you before we try to use it."

    Brandon heaved himself to his feet and clutched the cane, his hand shaking visibly against the surface, not quite gripping it securely. "Awesome, you can sit down again, please." He sat heavily in the chair, watching with dull interest as Ryan adjusted the height of the cane. "Okay, I'm going to ask you to stand again and then I'm going to move the wheelchair away and support you from behind, make sure you're stable. I want you to take five steps and then stop, alright?"

    "Okay." Brandon stood again, leaning his weight into the cane as he rose. Ryan unlocked the wheelchair's brakes and moved it out of the way, taking his place behind Brandon and holding his hips firmly. "Okay, you can try walking. Five steps, Brandon."

    Taking small steps, Brandon shuffled forward, fumbling with the cane. "I think...I think I can do it without the...the...this," he said to the therapist over his shoulder, waving vaguely at the cane at his side.

    "Okay. You might find it difficult to concentrate on moving it and your legs and keeping your balance, but I want you to try some more with the cane so I can get an idea of how you move with and without it. Can we do two laps? Let's go to the door and then back to the window, okay?"

    At a slow pace, they traversed the floor, Brandon occasionally tripping over his feet and stopping briefly for a break halfway through. Back at the window, Ryan guided him back into the wheelchair. "Take a breather, walking without a device will be more difficult than you expect, I think."

    He allowed Brandon another ten minutes of rest, then they stood again and the therapist gripped Brandon's hips securely once more, ready to stabilize him if he lost his balance. "Okay, are you ready? We'll just do five steps again." Two steps in, Brandon wavered and leaned backward, saved from falling by Ryan's strong grip at his hips. "Careful, it's okay, we can rest for a bit."

    A minute later, Brandon was ready to continue, and finished his five steps without further incident. "Do you want to be done for the day, or do you want to do two laps without the cane, like we did earlier?" Ryan asked quietly. Brandon only nodded and waved toward the door. "Okay, tell me when you're ready."

    Shortly, Brandon tapped Ryan's hand at his waist with his own: "I'm ready." Carefully, they advanced as one, Brandon tottering and stumbling a bit, weaving slightly back and forth as he walked. His face was shining with sweat from the exertion, and his hands and legs grew more unsteady as they continued, palms slick with persperation. The pair reached the door, then turned back and retraced the path to the window, where Ryan eased him back into the wheelchair.

    "That was great, Brandon, really excellent work. I think we're done for the day, that was really impressive!" Brandon smiled tremulously, not really listening, eyes moving restlessly around the room as he breathed deeply, trying to relax again. "Alright, let me help you get back in bed and I'll call your nurse to get you settled. You need to rest, you've been working hard."

    Brandon snorted at that, a quiet, harsh laugh. "Oh, yeah...r-real fucking hard," he muttered, the bitterness of sarcasm dripping from each word.

    Ryan frowned and pulled over a chair, sitting across from Brandon and running a hand through his sandy hair. "Hey, you've just had a really serious brain injury, just a few day ago! It takes time to recover, lots of time and patience and hard work. I know...I know it can be hard not to compare what you could do before the injury and what you can do now, but this is only the beginning. It's going to get better, if you're willing to work at it! You just have to find the right balance between pushing yourself to improve and giving your body the respect and rest that it needs to get better. Okay? I promise."

    Brandon only shrugged, not meeting Ryan's eyes. "I think...I think I want t-to sleep."

    "You got it."

    Ryan wheeled the chair over to the bed and supported Brandon as he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking in earnest now, clearly exhausted. He helped him into bed, settling him back against the pillows. "Really, Brandon, I know you're frustrated, but you really did a great job. You should be proud of yourself - I'm proud of you."

    Brandon only sighed, ignoring him, tears shining in his hazel eyes as he stared down at his hands, one limp in his lap and the other confined inside his sling. Ryan gripped his right shoulder and squeezed briefly.

    "Get some rest, Brandon. I'll be back tomorrow morning."