Page 20 of Revive Me

For the next ten minutes, I go through two dozen exercises with him, trying to identify where he has feeling and where he has nothing. By minute six, I’m feeling slightly frustrated.

The problem is, I can’t tell if his muscles are actually weak or if he’s just not trying. Or if his muscles are weakbecausehe hasn’t been trying.

For the most part, physical therapy comes down to simple exercises and repetition. There’s no big secret to rehabbing an injury beyond identifying how best to do that, and most of my sessions with patients are spent in the gym doing countless reps of basic exercises that they’ve already heard of, just with lower weight or intensity.

For a man like Roman, I can only imagine what it feels like going from putting a hundred pounds on the leg extension machine to struggling to even lift your foot up. Part of me doesn’t even blame him for losing motivation. I see every day how much of an ego-crush physical therapy can be. There’s a reason we heavily suggest counseling for our patients.

Grabbing a thin resistance band, I wrap it around his socked foot and hand the other end to him. “We’re going to use the bands for some strength training. Do you currently do any exercises at home?”

“Does exercising my thumbs on a video game controller count?”

This time, I release the sigh I’ve been holding back. “No, that does not count. Alright, we’ll keep it simple today, then. I’ll write the exercises down so you can do them at home between appointments, too.”

It doesn’t take me long to confirm he’s not going to do them at home. He’s not even doing themhere.

Roman doesn’t technically defy my instructions, but he’s clearly not trying. Even when he does an exercise correctly, and I expect it to boost his morale, all he does is double down on his non-reaction. I get more blank stares in one hour with him than I did with all six of my other patients today.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the motions he can’tdo. I half-expect him to throw the resistance band across the room every time we discover one of those. When it happens, I see Roman grit his teeth and put even less effort in. It’s like he feels more comfortable blaming the failure he is feeling on a lack of effort instead of on his body.

By the time our hour is up, I have no idea who’s more exhausted: me or him. Honestly, it might be a tie.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” I tell him, taking the band from his hands. “Do you have one of these at home?”

He nods, albeit reluctantly, so who knows if he’s being honest.

“If I tell you to do the exercises we just did daily, will you do them?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Sure, Doc.”

I frown at that. I haven’t had someone call me “Doc” since…

My eyes narrow as I study Roman, trying to see if hedoesremember me. But his face remains impassive, and after a moment, I decide it was just a coincidence.

“Do you need help getting back into your chair?” I ask instead.

Anger transforms his expression—at me? Or something else?

“No,” he spits out. Then, with the practiced movements of someone desperate to be independent, he pulls himself up into his wheelchair.

“See you on Saturday at four?” I ask.

But he’s already leaving.

This might be harder than I thought it was going to be.

8

LILIANA

I don’t bother hitting the books that night, knowing I’m too tired to retain anything I might read about Roman’s injury. But on Saturday morning, I wake up extra early for a spin class, then once my body and brain are wide awake, I curl up on my couch with Garfield and my laptop. And I get to work.

I already did a quick refresher on spinal cord injuries before taking Roman’s case, so now I dive into case studies of SCIs that pertain specifically to T11 incomplete injuries. But even though there are thousands of documented cases with Roman’s exact injury, it doesn’t take long before I realize that reading about the science isn’t going to help me very much. The physical aspect isn’t the real blockade here.

Brushing my hand over Garfield, I nibble on my lower lip as I mull over my options. And then I click over to YouTube.

The accident is the first video that pops up when I type in Roman’s name. And even though I know every detail about the injury I’m about to watch, my stomach still drops and my hands go clammy as I click play.

“I think he’s going for the slam! He’s going to slam his way out of it! Is it going to lock the submission up tighter, or will it make Roman let go?”

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