I’d been scared shitless for this day.
“See you Monday, Mr. McBride!” one of my students—I hadn’t yet memorized his name, but he was in my third-period class—yelled down the hallway crowded with scurrying bodies that raced to the parking lot to get a head start on their weekends. Navigating the halls of Whitney High was not made any easier when crutches were involved. Three times this week I’d crashed to the ground when a crutch got wedged against a locker or landed wrong on the slick linoleum or tripped over the foot of a passing student. My messenger bag also swung at my side like a pendulum and further pushed me off balance. Each time, a throng of kids rushed to help me up.
Today had been a manageable one pain-wise, and all I had left to do was successfully get down the fifteen daunting brick steps at the front of the building. School had been back in session for three weeks already. Each day I could feel my strength and coordination picking up. I’d developed a routine. Mallory had also learned to wrap my leg which helped with the edema that I’d experienced the first few days back home.
Well, back at Mallory’s home. Moving in with her should’ve been the highlight of my year—in reality, my life—but these weren’t the circumstances under which I’d hoped to take that leap. It felt like it was more out of necessity than excitement. Sure, she was genuinely happy to have me there, and I would be lost without her help and care, but this was a step that I doubted we’d be taking had the accident never occurred.
But it had, and these were our cards.
I purposefully hung out in the lobby a few extra moments to converse with students that lingered after the bell in an effort to wait out the crowds. It was all flurried and frantic for about five minutes before the chaos settled. That was the best time to try to scale down the Mount Everest in front of me.
“Need a hand, Heath?” Paul stopped short when he saw my struggle with the large door, how I switched both crunches under my left armpit and pushed against the handle with my hip. “Here, buddy, I got that.”
“Thanks, man.” I smiled. Humility—even when forced—was a good and necessary thing for me to experience. “I appreciate it.”
“No worries.” He held the door wide and waited as I repositioned my crutches to hobble forward. “How’re things going at the new place? Mallory taking good care of you?”
“She is.” Even though I wanted to be the one taking care of her. “It’s not very romantic, wrapping your boyfriend’s stump and all, but she’s a trooper.”
“I doubt she’s being a trooper, Heath. I’m sure she enjoys every moment she gets to lay hands on that sexy body of yours,” Paul jeered. I knew he was waiting for me to scale down the steps. He didn’t have to, and I certainly didn’t ask, but I appreciated how he slowed his pace and followed just a few steps behind me.
“Oh, you know it.” Finally, with a huge release of breath, I made it to the sidewalk. Hattie grinned at me from her minivan that was pulled close to the curb, waiting to pick me up. She waved excitedly. “Have a good weekend, Paul.”
“You too, Heath. Is today the big day?”
My stomach flopped at his words. “Sure is.”
He dropped a hand to my shoulder. “It’ll be great. Excited for you, buddy.”
“How does that feel?”
I pinched my lips together and fought the grimace that wanted to form. “A little tight. Uh, I don’t know. Maybe not. Is that normal?”
The young blond woman kneeling on the ground in front of me, who had just told me her name was Heather, nodded. “That’s likely from the swelling. We’ll provide you with another shrinker sock that you can wear at night and that should cut down on it a little. But you’ve been wrapping it, yeah?” I nodded. She shifted the liner, turning it just slightly on my skin. “That any better?”
“Lots, actually.” I ran my fingers over the joint where the prosthetic met my skin. “That feels pretty good.”
She reached for a set of thin boards just off to the left on the gray tufted carpet. “I’m going to have you stand now, Heath. Use the arms of the chair, if necessary, to hold you up at first.”
I hadn’t, in over a month and a half, stood on two feet. My stomach churned and my mouth went dry. Then, more easily than I had anticipated, I pushed up from the seat. Wobbled a little. Regained my balance, and held my breath, as though breathing would be that extra push to force me back down into the chair.
“Relax, Heath. You’re doing great.” Heather scooted back and eyed my stance with scrutiny. “How do your hips feel? Out of alignment at all? Or pretty even?” Before I could answer, she brought a tool to my waist that had a level in the middle, and she strained her eyes as she studied the bubble of air that floated a little off center. Reaching for a white pen, she drew two dots on the prosthetic. “I’m going to have you sit so I can adjust that and we’ll try again. You’re doing just great, Heath.”
I had to admit, I did feel great. I was on schedule with Dr. Callahan’s projections and my personal goals. There’d been a hiccup a while back when I’d developed an infection in the site of the amputation, but that was tackled quickly and mended without much setback. I couldn’t even count the hours I’d put in with physical therapy already, and all the strengthening exercises they had me doing. The uphill battle didn’t feel so uphill anymore.
“Okay, let’s try this again.”
For the second time, I rose to my feet, and this transition was much more natural than the first.
“Good. Good.” She lifted the tool to my waist again. “This looks really great, Heath. Can you try to take a few steps forward?”
I didn’t know why the panic flooded in. I didn’t figure the fitting for my new leg would only involve standing and sitting, but I hadn’t let myself mentally prepare for walking. For even setting one foot in front of the other. My fingers tensed. I clamped them into my palms.
Heather stood and walked backward, away from me. “Just a couple steps forward. You can do it, Heath. This is a great fit on you. Trust that it’s going to support you.”
With my head angled to the ceiling and with the utter of a silent prayer, I put my new left foot in front of my right and pressed down. I felt the pressure in my knee as the prosthetic held my weight. Held my weight. I didn’t collapse to the floor. I didn’t fall flat on my face. I only took four small and hesitant steps before reaching out for Heather’s arms for safety, but I did it. I could do this.
Heather guided me back into the chair where I released a few clarifying breaths. I rubbed at my jaw with my hands and then dropped my face into my palms. I tried so hard not to lose it in front of Mallory that I often found myself losing it in front of complete strangers instead.
Poor strangers like Heather.
“I’m sorry.” I took the Kleenex she fluttered at me and blew my nose loudly. “This is really embarrassing.”
“This is not embarrassing, Heath. This is why I do my job. For overwhelming reactions of joy like this. Has anyone—other than your mom—ever witnessed you taking your very first steps? It’s a privilege to be here for it. Cry away. I’m choking up over here, too.”
Heather’s words brought more tears to my eyes. “I’m just glad I didn’t fall on you.”
“Wouldn’t’ve been the first time. But you will fall, Heath. That’s inevitable. Just be sure to always get up. That’s all it comes down to. Getting back up.”
