When it was decided that he had healed enough to start physical therapy, a nurse came into his room with a wheelchair.
“Morning Mr. Boyer. You ready to go to physical therapy?”
No, he wasn’t. He’d decided it wasn’t worth it when they’d tried yesterday to get him up and walking a bit. The pain was too much. Was much easier to just give up.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll help you into the chair.”
She came over and pulled back his blankets. He no longer had an IV, which was nice because he wasn’t tethered to anything, but also sucked because now he had to take pills for the pain and they took longer to work than the injections.
She brought the chair right next to his bed and reached down to turn his body so that his legs hung off the side. She was strong for her size. Stronger than he’d imag
