Page 43 of Revive Me

I’m one missed session away from showing up at his house and banging on his door when he finally appears in the clinic.

I do a triple take when I spot him. He looks tired, with dark bags under his eyes and a general weariness to his demeanor.

“Roman. You’re here.”

He doesn’t nod or respond with anything. I have a feeling today is going to be an appointment of few words.

For the first time, I’m flustered. I’m not sure the best way to handle this. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t been sleeping well with how much I’ve thought about what I’d say to Roman when he came back in, or that I’ve practiced a dozen different motivational speeches in the past week—right now, I’m terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing.

My hands are shaking as I hurry to put away my last patient’s notes that I was finishing up. “Um… just give me a second. I can be ready in a minute.”

He doesn’t answer. He just turns and heads toward the stretching area.

After I finish cleaning up and move over to where Roman has started his exercises, it takes me a few minutes to work up the nerve to speak again.

In the end, what comes out in a too-high voice is, “Did you have a good week?”

I wince as soon as the words are out. “I mean…what did you do this week?”

Once again, he ignores me.

Another minute of silence. More of me frowning and biting my bottom lip.

“Did you think any more about starting gait training?” I ask, my voice gentler this time.

At that, Roman lets go of the retraction band he was working with, making it go flying across the room. Then he’s pulling his wheelchair over so he can move to the weights area.

This is a quicker progression than we usually follow, but since I’m already paddling upstream with Roman, telling him what not to do probably won’t win me any favors right now. So I let him go, while keeping a close eye on him.

Now he’s on the leg extension machine working leg raises. I can see the way his jaw clenches after the first rep, and I know he’s feeling the weight of it. I can also see how that fact makes him angrier than he already is.

Somehow, with shaky legs and gritted teeth, he gets to eight reps. Then he drops the weight with a loud clang and exhales a heavy breath.

My concern only mounts. “Maybe you should go a little easier?—"

He locks his feet in for another set.

Six reps later, he drops the weight again, his chest heaving as he sucks in air. His legs are now shaking from the exertion, not just during the reps but after.

And yet, I still don’t say anything. It isn’t until he moves over to the free weights that I get seriously worried.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Roman.”

“Well, you don’t actually get a say,” he spits back. Leaning down to grab one of the dumbbells, he settles back in his seat and places the weight on his thigh. One of the ‘functional’ exercises we had just started doing was first pressing up onto his toes to work his calves, and then lifting his knee completely to work his quads. But we hadn’t gotten around to it yet, because working with free weights is a lot more dangerous than using the machines.

Roman sucks in a breath to prepare himself, then presses up on the ball of his right foot.

And then he does it again. And again, until his leg is shaking. On the fourth lift, I know he realizes that he’s grabbed a weight that’s too heavy.

Goddamnit.I want to snatch the weight out of his lap. Ishould. He’s going to seriously hurt himself if he keeps up with this. But I’m still a little shocked that he’s even here, and I’m so out of my element with his current emotional state. Plus, I know if Idograb it, he’s going to absolutely lose his shit with me.

As all these thoughts flip through my head, Roman is moving the dumbbell over to his left leg. Which is even worse news, because his left leg is still weaker than his right. He’s just setting himself up for failure.

He sucks in another determined breath, manages to press up on his foot one time, and then as I shoot forward to grab the weight—his pride be damned—I watch as his leg loses all strength in the muscles and goes crashing down, the dumbbell sliding out of his grip and onto his foot.

“Roman!” I shout, stomach sinking as I rush around to his front. “What thehell!Are you hurt?”

He’s panting, looking stunned by the last few seconds. Too overwhelmed to react.

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