Beyond the Pain

Kenny let the belt out just a tiny millimeter. To me it felt like a yard. I lurched forward. Out of control. Or, so it seemed. A fierce jerk brought me back. Into balance.

“You’re okay. Now let’s take that step.” Kenny said. “And this time hold onto the railing.”

I lifted my left foot. Stepped down. Felt my foot rest securely on the riser. Took a deep breath. Lifted my very week right leg. Set it down on the riser. Next to the left. Breathed again. Kenny stepped down behind me.

“Ready to go again,” Kenny said.

We did three more. They seemed to take forever. Finally we arrived at the bottom landing. Relieved. Shook. Exhausted. Happy.

“Great job Lyle.”

“I will see you tomorrow. Remember, tomorrow’s my last day with you. Someone else will be working with you. Till you are discharged. ”

I was instantly depressed. Kenny had prodded, provoked, and pushed me to get better. He helped me back into my wheelchair.

I looked again, down the apartment stairs. I can do this.

I gripped the railing with my left hand. Took a deep breath. Lifted my left foot. Guided it down to the riser below. Took a breath. Paused. Lifted my right foot onto the riser below. Took a breath. Paused.

And, did the same routine twenty three more times.

I had finally arrived at the first floor. I opened the corridor door. Turned to the right. Limped to the aparment foyer. Opened the glass security door. Limped into the foyer. Checked my mail box. Nothing.

Opened the door to the outside. It was glass. Like the inner door. I pushed it open. A blast of air hit me. I limped along the apartment sidewalk. Underneath the cottonwoods that grew on the property. I reached the public sidewalk.

And, faced the next challenge.

Copyright 2016 — Lyle T. Lachmuth, Pre-publication Draft

t 3

I would solve the laundry problem later.

I needed to eat. I scrapped together a bunch of change. Limped to my apartment’s front door. Got my cane from where it was leaning against the fridge. Unlocked the door. Went out to the corridor. Turned. Locked the door with my key. Limped down the corridor. Opened the stairwell door. Stepped onto the landing at the top of the stairs. The stairwell door swung closed behind me.

I girded up my loins. Literally.

I had lost 30 pounds since the accident. My jeans no longer fit. Neither did my belt. I stared down the stairs. Terrified. I remembered the stairwell at the SBB building at Foothills Medical Center. My second to last day of physio. Kenny began the physio with the usual suite of stretching exercises. He grabbed my wheechair. Handed me a rope like thing. Like the belt of a bathroom robe. Only longer. Only stronger.

“We’re finishing up with the stairs”, Kenny said.

“Oh. Goody.”

I wheeled my chair past Recreation Therapy. To the door to the stairwell. Kenny opened it. I wheeled in. To the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Get up from your wheelchair”, Kenny said.

I pushed myself erect. Stood shaking slightly.

“Okay. We’re going to climb four steps. As usual, I will hold onto your left arm. To make sure you are safe. Ready to go?” Kenny took my left arm.

“Most people have no trouble going up stairs. The problem comes on the descent.” said Kenny.

Kenny gently urged me forward. And, upward.

I lifted my left leg. Placed it on the first riser. Lifted. Dragged my right leg onto the first riser.

“Three to go.” Kenny said.

We ascended the next 3 risers using the same strategy.

“Okay. Now turn around.” Kenny said. “This is the hardest part for most people.”

I turned around. Carefully. Slowly. Like a baby taking his first steps.

Which I was. I had not gone down a set of stairs in forever. Well, more like 2 months. On the unit I had graduated to using a walker. But when I left the unit it was by wheelchair. Not, as my step-mpm called it Shank’s Mare.

It was like those scenes in Vertigo. 4 steps, risers, telescoping into ten. Twenty.

Now I saw what the belt thing was for. Kenny wrapped the belt thing around my waist. He stood right behind me. On the riser just in back of me.

“Now. Take your time. Take a breath. And, step down. I will hang on to you.”

All I could imagine was me slipping. Falling. Tumbling down. Kenny right behind me. Us lying at the bottom of the stairs. In a pool of blood. Kenny injured. Me dead. At last.

I took a breath. Lifted my foot an inch off the fourth riser. Started to move it forward. Down to the third riser.

Then it happened.