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The next morning, Jesse and Dr. Reynolds walked into Steve's room. They found Mark already in there. Steve was awake and he and Mark were talking. Jesse greeted Steve, "Good morning, Steve. Are you ready to get started?"

"Yeah. I guess. The sooner we get started, the sooner I'll get better."

Mark smiled at his son's comment. When Mark had come in that morning, Steve was depressed. Mark knew he had to talk to Steve, but Mark wasn't sure he could believe everything he was saying to Steve. But he had to be strong for Steve. If Steve got discouraged, he might not work hard enough to get better. Mark started talking to him, telling him that he had been through worse, and telling him that he would get better. Mark did tell his son that he would have to work at it. He would only get better if he gave the therapy all he had. Mark also told Steve that his problems were all repairable. Steve seemed better and more relaxed after their conversation.

Dr. Reynolds walked over to Steve. "Alright, first we're going to work on getting back full use of your hands. We can't work on you being able to walk until your leg heals from the break. But it might take a couple of weeks to have use of your hands, so it will work out good."

"Okay," Steve agreed.

"Now, let's get you sitting up so we can get started." Dr. Reynolds moved the bed until Steve was almost sitting up. Steve closed his eyes as Dr. Reynolds moved the bed. "Are you okay, Steve?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy," his voice was still weak.

Mark walked over to Steve's bed, "Steve, do you want us to stay?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"Alright. But if you want us to leave, just say."

"I will. But I want you to stay."

"Alright, Steve," Dr. Reynolds started, "Now, let's see how bad your motor skills are impaired," she pulled the breakfast tray over to Steve. "Try to pick up the spoon for me."

Steve tried to pick up the spoon but dropped it. He reached for it again and grabbed it. He slowly picked it up, but it fell out of his hand again. Mark could tell Steve was getting frustrated. He knew Steve was going to have a hard time trying to regain all functions.

Dr. Reynolds encouraged Steve, "You're doing good. I told you it wasn't going to be easy. Try again."

Steve looked at the table. With determination on his face, Steve tried to pick up the spoon again. He reached up and put his hand over the spoon. He closed his fingers around the metal, and grasped it as hard as he could. He picked it up and this time he was able to keep his grip. He held it for a few seconds before he dropped it again.

Dr. Reynolds patted Steve on the shoulder, "Good job. Now we have to work on being able to keep that grip. Now I'm going to help. Just work with me," she reached over and picked up the spoon. She reached for Steve's hand. She put the spoon handle inside Steve's hand and folded his fingers around it. She moved a bowl of oatmeal over in front of Steve. She moved her and Steve's hand over to the bowl. She put the spoon into the oatmeal and moved the spoonful of food up to Steve's mouth. When he finished with the spoonful of oatmeal, Dr. Reynolds put the spoon back on the table and told him, "Now, why don't you try?"

Steve looked at her with doubt, but he again went for the spoon. He tried a couple of times, but he dropped the spoon. He finally was able to pick it up. He moved it slowly to the bowl. He lifted the spoon into the bowl. He started to bring out a bite. He dropped the spoon into the bowl. But with a frustrated look on his face, he picked it up and tried again. He managed to get a spoonful. When he tried to bring it up to his mouth, he dropped the spoon. The oatmeal splattered on the table and the spoon fell to the floor, "Dammit."

"Steve, it's okay. You're doing good," Dr. Reynolds said as she bent down to pick up the spoon.

"No, it's not. How hard is it to eat a bite of oatmeal? Something so simple, and I can't do it."

"Steve," Dr. Reynolds started, "it is a simple task, but it is something you're going to have to relearn how to do. I will not make this easy on you. If I did, you would never learn and you wouldn't get better. But remember this is only your first day. You're doing good." Steve looked at her. She could tell he was tired and frustrated. "Steve, I think that this is enough for today. I'll be back tomorrow. Get some rest and we'll work some more tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay," Steve said looking at the table.

"Okay," Dr. Reynolds said as she walked out of the room.

Jesse walked over to the bed and started cleaning up the spilled oatmeal.

Steve started talking, "How the hell am I supposed to learn to walk again if I can't even eat a stupid bowl of oatmeal?"

Mark walked over to his son, "Steve, it will be okay. Don't upset yourself."

"How can I not be upset? I can't even feed myself. I feel so helpless right now."

"Steve, it is going to be hard, and you will probably feel like quitting at times. That's very normal, but you can't give up," Mark tried to encourage his son.

"Yeah, Dad, I know. I've got a terrible headache. I guess I'm just tired."

"Okay, why don't you get some rest. We'll come back later."

"Alright," Steve looked over to Jesse, "Sorry about the mess."

"No problem. Do you want me to get you something for your headache?"

"No, I don't guess. I'll be fine."

"Alright, you just get some sleep. We'll be back later."

Steve lowered the bed as Mark and Jesse walked out of the room. Mark and Jesse walked to the doctors' lounge. They found Amanda in there reading over a chart. She looked up, "Hi. I was just about to go to Steve's room."

"He's resting right now," Mark said half-heartedly.

"What's wrong, Mark?"

Jesse answered for him, "Today was Steve's first day with the therapist."

"What happened?"

"Well, Steve found out exactly how difficult it's going to be, and he was kind of depressed."

Amanda turned to Mark, "He will be fine. He just has to adjust to the idea that he won't be able to do everything at once."

"I know, Amanda. But thanks for encouraging me."

****************

Two weeks passed and Steve seemed to be doing better, both mentally and physically. He no longer had the IVs, even though he did have a heparin lock in case he needed fluids. Dr. Reynolds had been coming in two times a day. They had been making progress. Steve could pick up and keep the hold on things he picked up. However, he was still having some problems with coordination. He still couldn't feed himself without dropping something, and he couldn't yet write good. He could write a little, but some of the letters weren't formed correctly. But everybody kept reassuring him that he would get it soon because he had already accomplished quite a bit by regaining most of the strength in his hands. Steve worked hard. He was determined to get well.

One day Jesse walked in Steve's room while Dr. Reynolds was in there, "Hi. How are things going?"

Steve was sitting near the bed in a wheel chair. He looked up when Jesse walked in, "Pretty good, Jess."

Dr. Reynolds stood up from the chair she was sitting in, "He's doing better than pretty good. He has taken seven bites without spilling a thing."

"Steve, that's real progress."

"Yeah. I never thought anybody would be so happy that I could eat without spilling something on me," Steve grinned.

"And, "Dr. Reynolds added, "he has improved in his writing. Take a look," she handed Jesse a piece of paper.

Jesse took it and looked at it, "That's good, Steve."

"Yeah," Steve smiled, "Good as any kindergartner in the city.

Jesse smiled. He was glad that Steve seemed to be in a better mood. He seemed more like his old self, "Well, maybe when you start walking again, we'll throw you a party. Deal?"

"Deal," Steve said smiling.

Dr. Reynolds made a notation in the chart, "Well, I think we're finished for the day. You rest Steve, and we'll do some more tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll be here."

"Bye," she walked out of the door.

Jesse walked over to where Steve was sitting, "So, how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. My head still hurts sometimes."

"It will. But if you want something for the pain, tell me."

"Nah, I can handle a headache. Dr. Reynolds said I might get out of this cast by the end of the week."

"Yep, I've got you scheduled for an X-ray tomorrow."

"Good," Steve said as he wheeled himself over to the bed, "I hate to ask you this, but would you help me back into bed? This is just the second time I've been out of bed, and I'm getting tired of sitting up."

"Sure, Steve," Jesse parked the wheelchair and walked in front of Steve. He moved Steve's feet to the floor and held out his arm to support Steve. Jesse watched as Steve struggled to get up. Once Steve was up, his feet barely moved. This obstacle was made worse since Steve still had on the walking cast. Jesse had to turn Steve so he could sit on the bed. Once he could, Steve sat down on the edge of the bed. Jesse lifted Steve's legs onto the bed and then pulled the covers up.

Steve lay back against the pillows and took a deep breath. That little had exhausted him. He looked to Jesse, "Thanks."

"No problem," Jesse told him, "Now, you just lay back and get some rest." Jesse appeared calm on the outside, but this was the first time since the shooting that he had seen Steve out of bed. Dr. Reynolds was the one who had gotten Steve in and out of bed the time before. He knew Steve could have been a lot worse, but it was still hard seeing him this helpless. And by now the only signs of him being sick was the bandage still on his head where the bullet had entered and surgery had been performed. But there was no way he could let Steve know what he was thinking. "I'll be by later to check on you."

"Alright," Steve yawned. Steve closed his eyes. Jesse quietly walked to the door and left.

After a few minutes, Mark walked into the room. He saw that Steve was asleep, so he went quietly to a chair to wait for Steve to wake up. After a little while, Steve woke up. He looked and saw his father sitting in the chair. He was looking out the window, so Steve called, "Dad,"

Mark turned around, "Hey."

"What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"It's about 8. I came in, but you were already asleep, so I just sat down and lost track of time," Mark sounded down.

Steve noticed something seemed to be wrong with Mark, "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Mark changed his tone, "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Ready to be able to do something for myself."

"That time is coming. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. But sometimes it just seems like it will never come. I mean it took me two weeks to be able to eat without dropping it all over the place. And I still can't write. Just look at that paper over there," Steve pointed to the table. Mark went over and picked it up. "That's the best I can do, and it looks like the work of a preschooler."

"Steve, it's okay."

"No, it's not. I can't do anything for myself. Hell, I had to ask Jesse to help me back into bed earlier."

"Steve, listen. It is hard. Nobody is going to tell you it is going to be easy."

"That's just it. I've worked so damn hard, and I have nothing to show for it."

"Oh, but Steve, you do. Two weeks ago, you couldn't write at all and you couldn't even grip a spoon. Now look at yourself. You are eating by yourself and you are writing again. Now, you've just got to improve on what you've already accomplished."

"I hate this, Dad. I really do."

Mark sat on the side of his bed, "I know son," Mark put his hand over Steve's, "I hate this too. I hate seeing you struggle this much."

Steve looked up at his father, "What if I can never learn to walk again? I don't think I could handle that."

"Steve, you will walk again. You just have to be patient and work at it. Conquer the small stuff first, and the big stuff will fall into place."

You're right. I guess I'm just tired."

"Maybe. Get some sleep."

Steve laid his head back and was soon asleep. Mark stayed by the bed for several hours. He couldn't leave. He watched Steve sleep. His thoughts drifted. He remembered all the times Steve had been there for him, protecting him from different disasters he always managed to get himself into. Now here Steve was hurting and Mark couldn't do anything to help him.

*********************

Two days later Jesse walked into Steve's room, "Ready to get that cast off?"

"Yeah," Steve was sitting up in bed.

"Well, okay then," Jesse walked over to the foot of the bed and took off the cast. "So how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. Dr. Reynolds says I've gotten back almost full function of my hands. And she says my coordination has improved greatly."

"That's great news. I told her I was taking the cast off today, and she said that you two could start on the walking maybe in a couple of days."

"Yeah. I can't wait to start on that. I'm tired of sitting all day. I know that I won't be walking right away, but still standing up will feel good."

"I guess sitting all day isn't as good as it seems like it would be."

"Not at all."

"Is Dr. Reynolds coming today?"

"Yeah she's coming in about an hour."

"Well, I need to be getting back downstairs."

"Alright. Then I guess I'll be getting back to the wonderful reruns and soap operas."

"See ya later," Jesse laughed.

Steve wasn't alone for long when Amanda came into the room, "Hey, Steve."

"Hi, Amanda," Steve turned down the volume.

"Anything interesting on TV?"

"Well, I found a show on this morning about how to peel potatoes."

"That is interesting."

"Yeah, it was an hour long show. I learned a lot." Steve smiled.

"Where's your dad? I haven't seen him lately."

"He was in here this morning, but he had some work to do."

"I guess I can catch up with him later. So how are you feeling?"

"Good. Just getting bored."

Amanda smiled. She knew Steve was getting back to his old self. "I bet. But you have the wonderful shows like 'How to Peel a Potato' to keep you entertained.

Dr. Reynolds opened the door and walked in, "Good afternoon, Steve. Ready to get to work?"

"I think so. At least it's something to do."

Amanda stood up, "I'll get going. I'll be by later."

"Bye, Amanda," Steve said as Amanda left.

"So," Dr. Reynolds started, "how are things going?"

"Good. I only dropped the remote once today."

"Sounds like you're doing good," Dr. Reynolds said as she got the wheelchair, "Now since you got the cast off today, we're going to work on getting in and out of the wheelchair. You won't always have somebody to help you with it."

"But I thought we were going to wait a couple of days after the cast was taken off."

"No, may as well start as soon as possible. You've already been out of bed a few times, so I think you're ready."

"Alright, whatever you say."

Dr. Reynolds walked over to the bed and lowered the rail. She pushed the wheelchair to the side of the bed, "Okay, now. I'm going to help you the first couple of times, but I want you to try it yourself before I leave today."

"Okay."

"Great. We've already done this a couple times, so you should have some idea of how to do this. Now first you've got to work on getting your legs to the side of the bed. You have some use of your legs, so work from that strength. If you have to, move your legs with your hands. See how far you can move your legs without any help." Steve struggled to move his legs. He was only able to move them a little ways. Dr. Reynolds watched, "That's good. There's more there than I thought."

Steve looked surprised, "They barely moved."

"I know, but you have to start somewhere. And one day when I tested your reflexes, there was no movement in the left leg and very little in the right leg. So you did real well in moving them that much. But don't worry about that right now. Let's concentrate on getting into the wheelchair. You know you can't move your legs too far, so you have to move them with your hands," she put her hands under his knees and scooted them to the edge of the bed, "Just like that." She put his legs back on the bed, "You try now."

Steve put his arms under his legs and tried to move them. It took him a few tries to move them. But he finally moved them one by one to the side of the bed. His breathing had become deeper because it was so hard.

"Good, Steve. Once you get that far, you need to reach and lock the wheelchair, so it won't move once you start to get in it. Make sure the wheelchair is at an angle, at least in the beginning. That way, it will be easier for you to sit down. Now, let's work on getting you standing up. You have to use your upper body strength for this. You need to push yourself up with your hands. If you have to, grab onto the side rail. You can pull yourself up that way."

Steve grabbed the rail. He pulled himself a little ways, but fell back onto the bed. "Damn."

"Steve, it's okay. You almost had it. Now try again."

He reached for the rail again and pulled. He managed to get himself upright.

"Excellent, Steve. And you made it on your second try. That's wonderful. Now, you have to turn yourself around so you can sit down. This is probably going to be the hardest part. Let me help you once and then we'll see if you can do it yourself. First, make sure you know where the chair is. And since the chair is at an angle, it should be easier to sit down. Now, what you want to do is try to turn around so you can just sit down. But that is difficult when you can barely move your legs. The best way to get your legs to move is to move them with your hands. You'll need to balance yourself with one hand and move your leg with the other hand. And once you've turned a little, you should be able to sit down without much trouble. Let's try that."

Steve bent over. He kept one hand on the bed rail and reached down with the other hand. He tried to move his leg, but it didn't move very far, "This is a lot harder that it looks."

"Yeah, it is. But you're doing good. Do you want me to help?"

"No, No. I'll get it," Steve reached back down and this time was able to lift his leg a little and move it around. He moved to the other leg. It proved to be just as difficult, but he kept at it and soon had it moved as well. He raised up and he was now almost even with the chair.

"Okay, Steve. Now all you have to do is sit down."

Steve moved one of his hands from the bed rail to the wheel chair armrest. He moved the other hand to the other armrest and he fell back into the wheel chair.

"Good, but there's one more thing."

"What?" Steve was out of breath.

"You have to get adjusted in the chair."

Steve responded by putting his hands on the armrests and pushing himself upward. He bent over and lowered a footrest. He picked his leg up and placed his foot on the footrest. He lowered the other footrest and put the other foot in it, "Is that good?"

"Yes, it is. You did great. Do you want to rest a bit before we work on getting you back into bed?"

"Yeah, if we can."

"Sure that's no problem. I'll be back in a few minutes. Then we'll get you back into bed and you can rest."

"Thanks."

Dr. Reynolds smiled and left the room.

Steve sat for a few minutes, and then the door opened. Mark came in, and saw his son sitting in the wheel chair, "Good to see you out of bed."

"Yeah, feels pretty good too. Dr. Reynolds is supposed to be coming back in a few minutes so I can learn how to get back into bed."

"That's good, Steve. You're doing real well at all this."

"I wish I felt like that all the time. Sometimes it's just so frustrating, I want to quit," Steve couldn't hide his real feelings from his father.

"I know, son. But the thing that makes you different is that you don't quit. You keep on going."

"I just want to get back to the way I was. And I know the only way to do that is to work at it."

Mark walked over to his son and put his hand on Steve's shoulder, "You are going to be okay. You're going to be just fine."

Dr. Reynolds walked into the room, "Ready to get back into bed?"

"Yes."

"Alright, let's get to work. Now, first you have to push the chair over to the side of the bed. Keep it at the angle it was when you were getting into it." Mark walked over to the other side of the room and just watched. Steve rolled the chair to the bed and locked it into place as Dr. Reynolds continued, "Now, you have to push yourself upright. But you have to move the footrests first. Let's see you try it."

Steve nodded as he bent over to move the footrests. Once his feet were on the floor, he put each hand on the armrests and pushed himself up. He fell back into the chair on his first try, but he persevered and managed a second try. He used all his upper body strength to push himself upright. He was once again standing.

Dr. Reynolds came over behind Steve, "Good. Now you have to turn a little so you can sit on the bed. Then once you're on the bed, you have to move your legs up to the bed."

Steve was able to move his legs a few inches. He turned the upper part of his body and sat down on the edge of the bed. He bent over and moved up one of his legs to the bed, and then the other. He scooted over in the bed. Dr. Reynolds walked over and pulled the covers up to Steve's waist, "I think that's enough for today. I'll bring the braces tomorrow. They will help you control the movements of your legs better. You rest, and we'll do some more tomorrow."

"Alright," Steve was exhausted.

"Good. See you tomorrow," she patted his shoulder and then left the room.

Mark had watched his son work so hard on getting back into bed. Steve had seemed to have forgotten he was there. Steve's eyes were closed, and Mark wasn't sure his son was awake. When Mark started for the door, Steve opened his eyes, "Dad."

Mark looked at his son. He looked tired, "You get some sleep. You've had a hard day. I'll be back later on."

"Okay," Steve closed his eyes. He was asleep in no time. He didn't even remember hearing his father leave.

*******************

A couple of days passed and Jesse walked into Steve's room, "Well, we're about to kick you off this floor."

"What?"

"We're moving you up to the physical therapy floor."

"Is that good?"

"Of course. You're about to start some intense physical therapy, and you wouldn't be doing that if you were well enough."

"When?"

"Later this afternoon."

"What about all the stuff in here?" there were several flower arrangements on the window sill, there were a bunch of cards displayed around the room, and Steve's personal belongings were around all over the room."

"That's why I came to tell you now. You'd better work on packing the stuff up."

"Thanks, Jess."

"See I even brought you a box to put the stuff in."

"Well, then I guess I' better get busy."

"I'm just kidding. I'll get an orderly to help."

"No, I'll get it. Just one thing."

"What?"

"Could you push the chair over here. Dad pushed it over there last night and forgot to move it back when he left."

"No problem," Jesse moved the chair to the side of the bed, "need any help?"

"Nah, I can get it," Steve proceeded to get out of bed and into the chair. He still struggled a bit and it took him a couple of minutes, but he was getting the hang of it.

Jesse watched as Steve got into the chair, "You're doing really well at getting into that chair."

"Yeah, and I can move my feet a little bit more."

"You seem to be improving every day. I'm glad. Well you start getting the stuff together, and if you need help call the nurse. I'll be back in a few hours to take you to the therapy floor," Jesse left the room.

"Alright," Steve took the box and wheeled himself over to the window. He started putting the flowers in the box, and then he started packing all the cards. Some of them were hung on the wall, and others were sitting on the table. He read each one before he put them in the box. All the support that people had shown had helped him keep a positive outlook on his recovery. People he didn't even know had sent cards. He finished with the cards and flowers. He wheeled himself over to the closet and retrieved his bag. He took the few articles of clothing from the closet and folded them into the bag. He placed the bag on his lap and wheeled himself to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and picked up the almost month's supply of magazines. He put them in the bag on top of his clothes. He set the bag on the bed, and wheeled himself to the bathroom.

While Steve was in the bathroom, Mark came into the room. When Mark didn't see Steve, he called, "Steve?"

"Yeah, Dad," Steve responded as he wheeled out of the bathroom.

"I didn't know where you were."

"Jesse told me they were moving me to another floor, so I should pack up my stuff," Steve said as he put a few items into his bag.

"Do you want me to do that for you?" Mark asked reaching for the bag.

"No, I've got it," he put the bag in his lap and went into the bathroom again.

Mark followed him, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure. As long as I don't have to get up, I can pack my own bag."

"Okay," Mark sat in a chair and waited for Steve to come back out.

Steve wheeled out and placed the bag on the floor next to the box of flowers and cards.

Mark asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Real good. I'm just kind of ready to get out of here."

"Yeah, I know. The therapy floor is part of the hospital, but you have more freedom up there. You can get dressed every morning, and you don't have to spend the whole day in hospital-issued pajamas."

"That does sound better than this."

"Yeah, so have you and Dr. Reynolds been working on walking any?"

"A little bit. She put these braces on and she said I would have to keep them on when we work. But she was wanting to wait until I get to the therapy floor to do the big stuff."

"Yeah, that's probably best. It's much easier when you're on the floor. That's where all of the equipment is. Well, I just wanted to come by for a few minutes to see how you were doing. I need to get back to my rounds."

"Alright, see ya."

"I'll get Jesse to call me when you they move you."

"Okay."

Mark left the room and left Steve to finish packing.

Go To Part Three