Storymania - The Healing by Jill Snider

The Healing
Jill Snider

I wouldn’t call myself a miracle worker. I’m just a lucky guy who happens to have an immensely rewarding job. Sure, Daniel Shaw has had his ups and downs in the business of physical therapy. But the ups can quickly erase all of the downs.

You don’t give up in this business. Too many of the patients are more than willing to quit. My job isn’t just to help their bodies recover but to also keep them motivated. Sometimes, that’s the toughest part. I’ll never forget one of my patients…Gabe Carter. He was in a bad car accident…pulled out in front of a bus. His body couldn’t remember how to walk, so my job was clear: teach him how to walk. But the situation went a little deeper than that. Gabe was a fourth grade school teacher. That day, he saw haunting images of the kids he loved. And it crushed him. He felt responsible and unable to forgive himself. Little did I know that I would soon be a mental therapist as well.

Walking into Gabe’s room that first day, I knew this was going to be difficult. He sat there, gazing out the window, the sun illuminating his young face.
“Hey there Gabe, how are you today?” I asked, looking directly at him but getting no response. He finally looked over after about thirty seconds.
“Oh, uh…I’m good.” He half-smiled. It looked forced.
“Good good good,” I chattered, pulling up a chair. “I’m Dr. Shaw, but I don’t care if you call me something else. David, buddy, chum, pal…asshole, if it comes to that.” He smiled for real this time. I chuckled myself.
“Well, I’m sure you know what our objective is here. Over the next few weeks, we’re gonna get you up and walking again. Now that may take some time depending on how hard you work. But as long as you pay attention and put forth some effort, it’ll all work out. Of course, you’ll also be required to rub my feet, foolish my nails and…nah I’m just kidding.” He laughed.
“Well today I’m gonna take you down to the gym and we’ll get started on some exercises to help you stand up.”

And so we began. These were just little things we were doing…tiny movements and repetitions to help muscles in his legs gain the strength to support him. Tedious work, but it had to be done for a week before he would even be able to attempt to stand on his own power. He’d been a sitting duck for 5 weeks while his other injuries were healing. This stuff was mildly easy, but I knew the next stage was going to be much harder.

“Alright, these are some yoga inspired moves that’ll work the muscles in your abs and legs.” I lay him down on a mat on the floor and turned on the exercise tape. First it started off with pretty regular crunches which I guided him through. Then came the part where you crunched up with your legs suspended halfway in the air extended. He watched the guy in the video and his eyes widened. “Oh man I don’t know about that…”
“Come on…try it,” I said, ready for rebuttal.
He made it about halfway up, every tendon in his neck bulging out, his face red, his legs quivering. I could hear the guy in the tape saying in the most soothing voice, “relax your face, soften your neck, calm your whole being.” Needless to say, I wanted to slug him. Gabe dropped to the floor.
“Come on buddy, one more time.” He reluctantly placed his hands behind his head, sitting up into the pose, his muscles shaking with exhaustion. He lied down again.
“I can’t.” He was breathing hard.
“Yes you can.”
He shook his head uncertainly.
“Come on Gabe. One more.”
He tried again. I held his back for a little extra support. But just as he was about to reach the full pose, a look of utter defeat and disappointment washed over his face. He collapsed again.
“Gabe, please…” I knew he had more than that in him. He certainly wasn’t unfit.
“I told you, I can’t!” He sighed and looked away.
I wanted to be annoyed with him, but something was telling me that Gabe was fighting against an unknown else. I turned off the tape. “Alright. Start cooling down.”

In the evenings I would go into his room and massage his legs to reduce muscle pain during the night. That evening, I walked in like usual. His dinner sat untouched. He was staring out the window again.
“Hey,” I greeted. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“Hi.” His eyes were glued to the floor.
I moved the food table out of the way and began pulling the covers away from his legs. “Not hungry? Or was the food just shitty tonight?” I made a face. “Ugh…I never did like spaghetti.”
“Nope, just…didn’t feel like eating.” I started the massaging. He twiddled his thumbs.
“Something bothering you today?” He didn’t answer me for a long time.
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
For a moment I was confused, but then I realized he was talking about the accident.
“The accident?” He nodded.
“I keep having dreams. The whole thing plays back in my head…just, each time it looks worse.”
His legs were not relaxing at all. No matter how vigorously I massaged, the muscles were taut.

“Seems like whenever I have bad dreams, I just have to watch a good comedy and I dream about that instead.”
He smiled a little. “Gonna take a damn good comedy for me.”
The massaging done, I pulled the covers back over his legs. “Got a good book to read?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“Well, goodnight.”
“Hey doc?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any kids?”” I looked at him, his eyes sad.
“No, I don’t.” He nodded.
“Goodnight.” I waved and left, closing the door softly.

I tossed and turned that night, thinking of ways to get his mind off of the accident. Nothing really came to my mind though. I finally fell asleep, deciding that I would just have to totally immerse him in his goals.

During the next few days, I started him on leg lifts in the weight room. Without weights at first, of course. I was hoping to put halves on each side after the first two days, but each day he looked tired, puffy eyed, and strained. I was worried he wasn’t sleeping well, and his body wasn’t recovering. I confronted him about it while he was stretching on the floor after some lifting.

“Gabe, you look tired. Trouble sleeping?”
He glanced up. “No, not really.”
Suddenly I was angry. I knew he was lying, but I kept my cool. I took a seat next to him on the floor.
“Listen Gabe. I know we don’t really know each other that well. But if I’m going to help you walk again, I need you to help me out. You’ve got to be honest with me. Otherwise, this might take months. Now tell me. Are you having trouble sleeping?” He looked at the floor again, not answering.
“It’s a simple question Gabe. I’m not asking you to reveal your deepest, darkest secret or anything.”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“Ok. What time did you fall asleep last night?”
“Two in the morning.”
I nodded, helping him back into his wheelchair. “I’ll get you something to help you sleep, then.”

That very next day, I sat Gabe down on the bench in the hallway outside his room. He looked more rested than the day before, so that boosted my confidence and I hoped it helped his too.
“Well Gabe, today is the day! Our first attempt at getting you on your feet!” I tried to sound really excited. Too bad Gabe wasn’t exactly reflecting the same attitude. He just sort of nodded.
“Now, grab hold of my arms, and when I tell you, push down real hard and lift yourself up. Ready?”
“Yeah, I think so…”
“Good! Ok…go!” He did as I asked, and there he stood, a little wobbly, on two feet.
“Great job! You ok? Your legs don’t hurt do they?”
“No, but Jesus, they feel like Sandbags!”
Yeah, they aren’t used to supporting 160 pounds of man anymore. So we’ll keep this short today. Do you think you’re strong enough to try taking a few steps?”
He got that depressed look in his eyes again. “I’m not so sure. They’re tired already…”
I nearly went off. Just when he gets to the high point he totally shuts down, I fumed. Well this was one of THE highest points and I wasn’t about to let him unplug now.
“Come on, just a few steps.”
“No doc, my legs are already giving out,” he put more weight on me for support.
“TWO STEPS! Just give me TWO!” I waved two fingers in front of his face. His eyes were wide with fear. I gently sat him back down on the bench.
“Why do you give up so easily?” I paced angrily back and forth.
“I want to do it….but I just, I don’t know.” There he goes, looking away again.
I tried to soften myself. “Don’t you feel well?”
“I just can’t …” he hesitated, looking rather speechless…faltering for the right words.
“Can’t what?” I searched those young, depressed eyes. He finally looked straight back at me…eye to eye.
“I just can’t say.”
This left me more confused and distraught than ever. My first thought was he’s lying again. But why?!

The next day, I decided to just let Gabe relax…a trip to the therapeutic pool would be a nice change, and still healthy for him. I guided him through different strokes and exercises that worked his legs without straining them at all. I was beginning to think that he felt most normal in the water. He could stand (well, touch the bottom) without any problem.

I realized that I’d forgotten his towel.
“Can you stay here while I go get a towel for you?”
He nodded.
“Stay right here and hold on to the edge. I’ll be right back.”
I ran to the supply room and grabbed two towels, hurrying back into the pool area. As soon as I opened the door I felt something was wrong. Gabe was nowhere in sight.
“Gabe?” I called out. Looking down, I saw him…limply submerged under the water. I quickly dived in, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to the surface. He coughed and sputtered as I sat him down on the edge and wrapped a towel around him.
“Jesus Gabe, what the hell were you doing?!”
He shook his head, wiping the water from his eyes. “ you know how, when you’re laying down in the bathtub and it’s filling up, the sound of it underwater makes you feel like….like you’re in a dream?”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat there, staring at him blankly.
“I saw it all again. In my head. And I just…don’t want to keep going.”
“Keep going?” I thought for a moment. “Gabe you can’t mean you want to die.”
He covered his face with his hands. “ A nurse came in and told me today that…one of the kids on the bus…Emily Steuben, a girl in my class…she died today. Major internal injuries.”
I was the one who was speechless now. Thoughts were racing through my mind.
“No, I don’t want to live!” he shouted, his voice echoing eerily through the room.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Gabe listen to me. You need to talk to someone about this.”
“I don’t have enough money…I can’t pay a psychiatrist and you.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I’ve got two patients finishing up their time with me today. I’ll be a little more open. You can talk to me.”
“You?”
“Yeah. I originally went to school to be a psychiatrist.”
“Why aren’t you one?”
“I couldn’t deal with everyone’s awful lives everyday.”
He thought for a few minutes. “Ok.”
“Good. We’ll start tomorrow at 10:30.”

And so began my trip into his inner psyche. I was afraid of what I might hear, but I was more concerned about Gabe’s health. I walked into his room at 10:30 sharp the next morning.

“Brought you a cup of coffee,” I said, handing it to him.
“Oh, thanks.” He looked at it silently. “You know what’s funny?”
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t remember what coffee tastes like. I know what it smells like and that I used to drink it, but I don’t know what it tastes like.”
“Well,” I gestured toward the cup.
“Oh right,” he said, taking a sip. His face contorted and it looked as if he might gag.
“Ugh! That’s terrible!”
I laughed. “Here, try mine. It’s got sugar and creamer in it.” We switched coffees.
“Thanks.” He tasted it. “Ah, now that’s at least drinkable.”
I smiled. “Do you have a favorite food?”
“Yeah. Fried chicken.”
“Do you remember what it tastes like?”
“Not really.”
“What about your favorite liquor?”
“Tequila…and no.”
“Ooh. That sucks.” I hesitated before asking the next question. “Do you remember what it tastes like…when you kiss your wife?”
He looked at the floor…”Like strawberries.”
I nodded understandingly. “Do you have kids?”
He smiled warmly. “Yep. Fifty of ‘em. Two of my own.”
I smiled back. “What are their names?”
“Katrina and Kasey.”
“How old?”
“Katrina is ten and Kasey is 6.”
“Bet they’re nice.”
“Oh God, kids are the greatest thing in the world. Just awesome.”
I didn’t really know how else to jump into this. IT was possible I might drown trying.
“Gabe…take me back.”
“Back where?” he asked suspiciously, fear touching his voice.
“Tell me about the accident. Take me back to that day.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I need to know if I’m going to help you…”
His eyes began to well up. “ No! I can’t…Danny, please…please don’t make me go back there!”
I scooted my chair over beside him, looping an arm around his neck. “Listen, I know it was bad, and ugly, and it’s hard to talk about but you’re gonna have to tell me sometime.”
He sat there, trying to gain control of himself. His hands were shaking.
“Was it in the morning?”
He nodded.
“Tell me what happened.”
He waited a moment. “It was a bad place to pull out I guess. I was late…” He paused. “…God if only I’d just taken my time…” His lip trembled.
“Don’t worry about ifs right now.”
“I pulled out …the bus tried to slow down, but couldn’t and it slammed into me. The car spun and rolled over and I think I might have blacked out for a few seconds. But….” he breathed in hard to stop from sobbing. “..when I opened my eyes…”
I took his quivering hand.
“The bus was on it’s side…and the kids were on the ground…” A tear trickled down his cheek. “Bleeding and crying…screaming.” He squeezed my hand harder.
“I’m a bad person.”
“No you’re not.”
“I killed someone! What’s worse than that?” He sniffed.
I grabbed his shoulders and made him look at me. “You wanna know what’s worse? Killing someone because you wanted to. Because you meant to. And you never meant to. Emily knows that.”
He sobbed. I held him as he cried into my shoulder.
“I never want to see it again…please don’t let me see it again…” He repeated over and over as he wept.
I patted his back. “You won’t Gabe. You won’t.”

He told me a lot more over the next few days. He told me about when he was young, school, when his dad died, college, becoming a teacher. I saw something different in his eyes now. Relief. Still some pain, but mostly relief. Soon, we were taking steps, we were walking with a walker. We were on our way.

The day a sack of get well cards from his students were dropped off in his room was the best of all. It was like he’d developed a new face. It was bright and rejuvenated. To know his students loved - and forgave - him was more motivation than I ever could have given.

Four days later, Gabe walked down the hallway. The next day, he walked up stairs. The next day, he walked around the hospital. Two days later, he was discharged.
“Well, you did it buddy!” I said, shaking his hand.
“Yeah, but not without you. You really did a lot for me. Thank you.”
“Aw, it was nothing.”
“No…it was something. You saved my life.” He embraced me.
“You’re a good man. Don’t you forget that,” I ordered.
“I won’t.”
“Hey, I never did get a foot rub.”
He laughed. “Sorry. I can’t give you one. You’re an asshole.”

I haven’t spoken to Gabe in awhile. We’re supposed to meet for a drink in an hour. He’s a motivational speaker now, going around to different places in the summer and giving talks. I hear he says good stuff about me. Don’t worry. The fame can’t go to my head. I got better things to worry about…there’re people here who can’t move their fingers for chrissake.