Chapter 12: A Most Amazing Rehabilitation Program

One week after my release, I was called back to the hospital for an examination to see how I was progressing. The stitches in my head were fine with no sign of infection. I was assured that my hair would grow back and cover the scar to the point where it wouldn't be noticeable. The leg was another matter.

"We want you to start physiotherapy tomorrow, Ian," the doctor said, finally showing a slightly human side. "Our facilities are quite modern and trained therapists are there to guide you through the restoration of your knee. I won't kid you and tell you that it will be easy. While the ligaments weren't badly torn, they were severely crushed by the blow from a heavy, blunt object ... the sign I assume. I expect you are in for at least four to six weeks of therapy. You'll need to arrange a schedule for yourself with your therapist. I assume you can return to work as I understand it is an office job. I leave that up to you to arrange. Surgically, we've done all we can for you. The rest is in the hands of you and your therapist."

I nodded. "Okay. If I can go back to work, I'll be happy. I'm getting used to the crutches and the walker. I can get around okay if I take my time."

"Good. Good luck," he said, almost with a smile.

I was about to leave when a young girl approached me. "Hi, I'm Cindy. I can lead you to the physio room and you can register. They'll assign you to a therapist. Okay?"

"Sure ... lead the way," I smiled. At least I was beginning to make some progress.

In the physiotherapy room, I signed the forms and gave them my details. I was to work with Pete Ogden for my therapy. Good, one more thing in place.

I called Bud Fosdick at the office and let him know that I would be in the office on Friday morning and we could figure out a schedule that would allow me to go to physio three times a week and still be on the job. Dad volunteered to drive me to work and home when it was an office-only day. Mom would pick me up at the hospital when my physio session was done. Bud was happy to have me back and my parents were happy to see me out of the house again. My emotional state had been very down for a few days, and the start of physio as well as returning to work had really reinvigorated me. I had something to look forward to.

I got a nice welcome when I hobbled into the office early Friday morning. Bud was there to greet me and several of the girls wished me well. A few of them had visited me when I was in the hospital and I thanked all of them with some flowers after I got sent home. I didn't have to get up to get a coffee. One of the ladies would ask if I wanted one and delivered it to my desk.

I found I wasn't far behind, so catching up was pretty straightforward. I couldn't leave the office to check on a particular job or site, so that had to be looked after by others. However, it didn't present any problems and gave some of the other staff some experience. Dan Chung was the most likely person to be sent out since he was the most senior.

My physiotherapy sessions were scheduled as late as possible in the afternoon, 3pm. Bud arranged for volunteers to drive me to the hospital instead of my calling a cab. I protested, thinking that this wasn't very productive and besides, the insurance would pay for the cab, but he waved me off and one or another of the staff would get an early afternoon off driving the twenty minutes to the hospital. I was amazed at how tight our group was.

Our group secretary, Wendy Simmons, dropped me off at the entrance to the hospital and I thanked her for the service. I hobbled into the reception area, taking a quick detour to the physiotherapy section. I signed in just before 3 o'clock and went looking for Pete Ogden.

"Oh, Mr. Ogden isn't available, Mr. Dunlop," the young girl who had registered me last week informed me. "We've assigned you to another therapist. She'll be along shortly. Please have a seat."

"Well, not off to a great start," I thought. "However, at least someone is here to help me."

I was looking out the window at the nice weather I was missing when I was approached by someone from behind. I couldn't easily turn around in my seat, so I waited for the person to come around in front of me. Instead, I felt two soft, warm hands on my shoulders.

"Hello, stranger," came a familiar voice.

"Shelly?" I immediately exclaimed, my heart rate now accelerating.

She came around in front of me with a big smile and then the unexpected; a kiss.

"Hi Ian. Sorry for the unprofessional greeting," she smiled shyly. "It's been a long time," she said with a sad smile before sitting beside me.

"Yeah ... it has. What are you doing here?" I asked, too surprised to figure out the obvious.

"I swapped patients with Pete. When I saw your name, I was pretty sure it was you. I looked at the program and knew I could handle it. Aside from your injuries, how are you, Ian?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "You've caught completely by surprise." I looked around the waiting room and saw several people nearby. "This probably isn't the best place to have a conversation. But ... I would like to talk to you. Maybe after the session?"

She smiled again. "Sure. Come on. Let's get you started on the road to recovery."

I wasn't prepared for the stress and discomfort of my first session. To begin with, I was lying on a long table with a little electric machine that raised and lowered my knee very slowly. The idea was to see how much flex I could stand before it became too painful. I was warned not to push too far, but to keep Shelly informed of just how much pain I was experiencing. The answer was: quite a lot. I was still taking some pain killers, so that was taken into account as well.

Shelly was very professional as she went about her business. We took a break after fifteen minutes and she showed me an illustration of the muscles and ligaments of the knee, then showed me an x-ray of my knee after the accident.

"You can see the damage here and here," she said, pointing to some dark areas along side the knee joint. "You also have a cracked patella ... that's your kneecap. It will heal normally, but you don't want to be on your hands and knees for some time. You will find it unbearably painful.

"We'll take more x-rays in three weeks to see what progress we're making. In the meantime, I'm going to give you some exercises you can do at home. The big thing we're trying to accomplish in the beginning is to restore some flexibility to the knee so that it doesn't atrophy or stiffen up with disuse."

"Okay. I already have to sleep on my back with a little prop under my knee. The doctor warned me about letting my knee lock up for now."

"Yes. When you do your suggested exercises, always have something under the knee to give the joint a little elevation. Even three of four inches will help."

"Sure. So ... Shelly ... how long have you been here?"

"Two years next month," she smiled. "I'm really enjoying it, too. I feel for some of the older people who aren't in very good condition and can't do a lot of the exercises. Their chances of full recovery are always going to be less than someone fit and healthy like you. But I can help, so I do what I can for them."

"Good for you. I'm proud of you, Shelly. You've kept your dream and you're living it now. Your parents must be very proud of you."

She nodded. "Yes, they are," she said, turning back to her work.

We spent the hour going over the equipment and exercises I was expected to do. If my flexibility was up to it, I would begin to spend some time on the stationary bike by Friday. That was going to be the main instrument of torture, she told me.

"How are you getting home?" Shelly asked as our first session neared its end.

"Mom is picking me up. She's the designated driver for these sessions. Some of the staff have volunteered to bring me here from work each day."

"You're back to work then? That's good. Just don't overdo it," she warned.

"Don't worry. They won't let me. I'm even getting coffee and lunch service," I chuckled.

We were silent for a few moments before I spoke. "I'm really glad to see you again, Shelly. I wish we had parted under better circumstances, but it's good to be here with you."

"It's good to see you again too, Ian. I hope you make a full recovery. I'll do my best to help you."

"Yeah, I know you will," I smiled.

My mother arrived and stopped dead when she saw Shelly with me.

"Michelle? How are you?" she said beaming. "It's so good to see you again. Are you working here?" Mom asked, all the while approaching Shelly before hugging her enthusiastically.

"Yes ... I'm Ian's physiotherapist. We'll be working together to help him recover from his injuries."

"That's wonderful," Mom gushed. "It's so good to see you two back together again. Won't you come to dinner on Sunday? Rick will be so happy to see you again."

I could see the red face of embarrassment on Shelly and I was about to say something when she spoke.

"That would be very nice. I really enjoyed our Sundays. Thank you for inviting me."

I shook my head. Was I hearing her right? Did she just agree to come to my parents' house? Apparently she did. This afternoon was adding question after question in my mind.

"Wonderful," Mom said, hugging her once more. "I'll prepare something special for the occasion."

As my hour was finished, I said goodbye to Shelly, promising I'd be on time on Wednesday for our next session. The look on her face was something to behold. It was like this was all planned and I was the only one who wasn't in on it.

"Did you know Shelly was working here, Mom?" I asked as I levered myself into the back seat of her car.

"No, I didn't. But isn't that amazing, Ian. She's going to be your therapist and you'll be seeing her every week. You wait, you two will be back together before you know it."

"I wonder," I mumbled, more to myself than to mother.

Shelly was nothing but professional during our sessions that week. No stolen kisses or over-familiarity -- strictly business. But I couldn't help but pick up on the undertones of our time together. There was something going on with her and I felt as though she was putting more into our one hour than just my rehabilitation. What that "something" was I hadn't yet learned.

Sunday dinner was special. The roast of beef wasn't a big surprise, but the Yorkshire pudding and roasted vegetables were a great addition, not to mention the dessert: one of mom's great apple pies.

Dad and I had a chance to talk about the change in Shelly while we were left to our own devices in the living room.

"She's changed, Ian. I can't put my finger on just how, but she's definitely changed. I've always thought she was attractive, but there's more now. She's definitely more mature. What do you see?"

"Pretty much what you do, Dad. I can't get over how easily she greeted me and slipped back into her old self. When we parted, she was very uptight, and frustrated with me. But now ... I don't see that. I wonder what's different."

"There's only one way to find out. You'll be spending some time with her during your therapy sessions. She may loosen up and tell you. Otherwise, try and find some private time to talk to her. Ask her how she feels today compared to when you parted. I have a feeling the answer may surprise you."

I nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

The physiotherapy sessions continued three times weekly with my making slow but steady progress toward recovery. Shelly and I talked during the sessions. We weren't the only people in the room, of course, so that meant a personal conversation was not possible. But her behaviour had me feeling optimistic. It was a lot like when we first met and worked out together at the fitness center. She would talk about her family and some of our mutual acquaintances. She had never met Chug or Pigpen, and was fascinated when I talked about them. I thought I would be fun to have her meet Chug if the opportunity arose.

I had progressed on the stationary bike to being able to sustain a good rate of RPM for twenty minutes. It was the last thing I did during each hour of therapy. It didn't just help with my knee, but helped with my cardio fitness as well. By the end of most sessions I was dripping in sweat and ready for a shower. Mom was none too pleased with my condition and aroma when I limped out to her car. I still rode in the back seat, but more for her comfort than necessity.