Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I understand your concern, but he’s making good progress. The steroids are doing their job and reducing the swelling, and the brace is keeping his spine immobilized. The therapy is helping with his muscle strength and...”
“He still has no feeling in his legs.”
That wasn’t exactly true.
I’d started to feel some tingling and numbness that I hadn’t been feeling days prior, and it was more than likely a good sign. I should’ve mentioned it to the doctors or one of the nurses, but out of pure frustration, I’d kept it to myself.
In my mind, a little tingling wasn’t enough.
I wanted more.
I wanted my fucking legs back.
“We’re aware, but muscle response is beginning to return. That gives a lot of hope that the rest will follow.”
“Yeah, that’s what Blade keeps telling us.”
Blade was club’s doc, and while he was great at gunshots and broken limbs, paralysis was out of his paygrade. He tried to reassure Dad by saying, “We’ve just got to be patient and give Wes the time he needs to recover.”
“He’s right.” The doctor raised his voice, ensuring that I could hear him as he added, “It’s going to take some time. Your son is going to need to continue the rehabilitation and give it all he’s got to regain the ability to walk again, and physically, I believe that he can do that. Mentally, I’m not so sure.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m concerned about his state of mind. He hasn’t been going to any of the counseling or group therapy sessions I suggested. These are vital to his recovery.”
“Yeah, he’s not really into the whole counseling thing.”
“It’s important, especially now. Your son is battling depression, and he’s losing. It’s common in situations like these, and I think it’s time to discuss the possibility of adding an antidepressant to his daily medications, along with attending the counseling sessions.”
“You really think that’s necessary?”
“We’re at a critical time here. Your son needs to be at his very best right now, and he’s not. If anything, he’s regressing. We need to find something that will get him back in the game, or we’ll lose the progress he’s made.” The doctor glanced over at me, then back to Dad as he said, “Talk it over and let me know.”
There were some mumbled words, and then the doctor and Blade walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Dad. I kept my eyes trained on the TV as he walked over to me, and I did my best to tune him out as he said, “We need to talk.”
I didn’t answer.
I just lay there and pretended I hadn’t heard him.
“Wes, listen.”
“Already back to Wes,” I scoffed. “Even you know it’s over for me at the club... I’ll never be able to ride again.”
“Never said that.”
“But that’s what you’re thinking.” I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I did, it would gut me, so I kept staring up at the television as I grumbled, “It’s what you’re all thinking.”
“No, son. You will walk again. Ride again. You’ll do it all. No matter what it takes.”
“Like putting me in this fucking nursing home?”
“It’s the best rehabilitation center in the state.”
“Well, it looks like a nursing home, and it smells like one, too.”
“The smell is you, son,” Dad teased. “All you.”
“What the fuck ever.” I rolled my eyes with a grumble. “Keep me here all you want, but I’m not taking a fucking antidepressant. I don’t care what that quack doctor says.”
“It might help,” he argued. “You got a lot of hard work ahead of you, and you’re gonna need to be in the right head space for it.”
“Stop telling me what I need!” I thrashed my hand towards my feet. “What I need is my goddamn legs!”
“And you will have them.” I saw the doubt flicker through his eyes as he added, “It’s just going to take some time.”
“Stop saying that! Just stop! I don’t want to hear it anymore!”
The words had barely left my mouth when the door creaked open, and Rusty and Ghost stepped into the room. Their timing couldn’t have been worse. They must’ve picked up on the mood of the room because they both looked apprehensive as they waited for Dad to come over and greet them. They spoke for a minute before Dad stepped out of the room.
"Hey, brother," Rusty said, his voice filled with concern. "How you holding up?"
"I’m not.”
“Aw, man.” Rusty sighed, but his expression remained steady. “We were hoping that things had gotten better since they moved you over here.”
“No such luck.”
“I know this has gotta be tough, for you and for Prez, but you gotta know if there was something we could do to help, we would.”
“Help?” I scoffed. “Like what? You gonna be the one who shuttles me around like a fucking invalid?”
“If that's what it takes, I'd do it in a heartbeat. We both would.” Ghost's jaw tightened, but his voice didn’t waver as he replied, "But it ain’t gonna come to that. You're gonna get through this, brother. You’ll see."