Page 58 of Playing the Game
The last week and a half have been vicious. Healing from my gunshot wound has taken more out of me than I thought was possible.
After a brief hiccup with an infection that finally cleared, I’m feeling better than I have been. That’s not saying much, though.
“Let’s see how you do in the shower.” The occupational therapist places a shower seat in the middle of the stall. “Sit on this, and we’ll get you washed up.”
“Now I have to bathe in front of you?” I growl under my breath. “I thought sponge baths were bad enough.”
“Come on, grumpy.” Dori peeks around the occupational therapist and flashes me a supportive thumbs up. “You’ve been complaining about not having a shower. Get in there and take your opportunity with a smile on your face.”
I roll my eyes just as my lungs seize up. I grab the edge of the bathroom doorway to keep myself from falling.
“Fuck me! When will this get easier?”
The therapist grips on tight to a belt she’s placed aroundme to steady me. “Give yourself a minute to catch your breath.”
I take a moment to stabilize myself. “Thanks for keeping me on my feet. I thought I was going to pass out that time.”
“That’s why we practice.” She holds me up until I step closer to the shower bench. “Take your time.”
“I’d rather get this over and get back in bed.” I palm the walls of the small shower area until I’m facing the spout. I lower myself onto the bench. “Now what?”
Dori glances at my hospital gown. “You need to get undressed and get clean.”
My stomach hardens. I shake my head and force down my frustration. I’m not angry with her or the therapist trying to help me, but I’ve always been independent, and this situation has me feeling like a child.
The therapist places my toiletries next to me on the bench. “See how you do reaching for the valves.”
I glare at the knobs in front of me like they are purposefully offending me. Anytime I move to reach for something, my entire right side threatens to kill me. I inhale and shift forward.
A burning sensation shoots through me, and I freeze. “Fuck this. I don’t need a shower.”
“I know this is painful, but if you want to be discharged this week, you have to pass these assessments.” The therapist tips her head toward the room. “If you can’t do it, I can help you back to bed.”
Taking another step, Dori progresses further into the confines of the bathroom. “I can help him shower here and at his apartment.”
This is the first I’ve heard of this idea, and my thoughts instantly go to how much fun we could have together.
Great.
Now I’m getting hard.
“Okay.” The therapist gets out of Dori’s way. “I’ll let you help him undress, but I’m right here if you need me.”
She faces me. “Okay, grumpy. Let’s get you washed up.”
“I need a minute.” My cheeks heat, but I don’t move for fear of the searing pain.
Her eyebrows cinch together. “Why? Are you hurting?”
“No. Not exactly.” I lower my head to hide my embarrassment. “It’s more delicate than that.”
There are a few seconds of silence before Dori laughs quietly. “Oh my god. What made that happen?”
My skin erupts in flames. “It’s your fault. You said you would shower with me.”
I raise my head and meet her sparkling emerald gaze. I want to roll my eyes because she seems to be enjoying this a little too much.
“Do you want me to leave?” She bites down on her lip, holding back her smile.
