Page 47 of Revive Me

But whatever it is, the sight of it makes my chest fill with a now-familiar warmth.

* * *

I can sense Roman’s nerves the next time he comes into the clinic.

After our conversation the other day, I decided that the easiest assisted walking exercise for Roman to start with was going to be the parallel bars. His upper body strength is insane lately, so I’m not worried about any falls, and I figure since these bars are an actual Olympic sport, they’re less likely to make him feel like a child learning to walk and more like a professional athlete practicing his skills.

That’s what I’m crossing every one of my fingers and toes for, at least.

“Ready?” I ask Roman, plastering on as big of a smile as I can muster. Still not big enough to hidemynerves, though.

His posture is so tense, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned tail and left. But then a huge breath whooshes out of him, and he says in a voice like gravel, “As ever. Let’s just get this shitshow over with.”

I nod at Fran. With this being the first time, I couldn’t in good conscience do it without some assistance. The fight with Roman to let someone else into our space just this once was worth the peace of mind that I got from knowing he’d be safe no matter how this session went.

And itwasa fight. So much so that I thought we were going to have to test his first coping strategy just because another human being was going to see him in a vulnerable position. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. And he’s been amicable with Fran since she walked in here.

“Alright, come over to the bars here so Fran can get the harness around your chest,” I instruct. “Let us know if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable and we’ll adjust it.”

“All this shit feels uncomfortable,” he grumbles, rolling his wheelchair over to the parallel bars.

Fran’s mouth twitches, but she doesn’t comment. I made sure to remind her before she came in here that Roman was going to be extra crotchety today and in general doesn’t do well with conversation, especially if it’s motivational.

She holds the harness out for Roman to slide his arms through, fitting it around his chest and tightening everything so it can hold his weight. I mentally pat myself on the back for thinking to sleuth around for Roman’s height and most recent weight before this. Moving around to stand between the parallel bars, I take up my place in front of him.

“You might feel dizzy at first when the machine pulls you up, so I need you to communicate with me about how things feel,” I tell him. When he nods, I almost gesture for Fran to hit the switch that will lift Roman into the air.

But something makes me pause. Maybe it’s the sheer terror in Roman’s eyes, or maybe it’s the fear beating in my chest. Whatever it is, it makes me sink into a moment where we’re the only two people in this room.

I lower myself to my knees in front of Roman. His eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, enough trust flickering in his gaze that it makes some of the fear fade.

“Whether this takes one day, one week, a hundred weeks…we’re going to get it. We’ll figure out how to get you there. And not because you’re no one if you can’t walk, but because you’re strong enough to make it happen.”

Surprise alights in his expression. I hadn’t intended to tell him that, and maybe I’m overstepping by saying it, but I’m glad I did anyway.

Straightening to a standing position, I add quietly, “I just needed you to know that.”

I don’t expect him to respond—the appreciation in his eyes is more than enough for me. Looking up at Fran, I nod for her to start the machine.

With a soft whirring sound, the line on the lift goes taut, then slowly starts to raise Roman into the air. I step forward and brace my hands on his hips.

“Harness okay? Anything cutting into you?” I ask hurriedly.

Roman shakes his head, though he’s clenching his jaw so hard I can see every vein in his neck. He quickly reaches for the parallel bars.

“Okay? Are you dizzy? Do you need anything?”

“Doc…you’re mother hen-ing,” he says dryly, eyes sliding closed as he steadies himself.

A laugh bursts out of me. “Well, that’s something I’ve never been called before.”

“It’s what I’m thinking every time you hover.” He lets out a big exhale, then slowly opens his eyes. “Okay, I’m good.”

Thank God. “Okay, then I’m going to sit in front of you and guide one leg at a time through a stepping motion. Slowly, so we hit every motion and muscle.”

Roman nods, his jaw clenched once again. There’s still dread in his expression, but I see determination, too.

Pulling over my rolling stool, I lower myself onto it so I’m at the perfect height to grab behind his knee with one hand and around his ankle with the other.

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