t 3
I would solve the laundry problem later.
I needed to eat. I scrapped together a bunch of change. Limped to my apartment’s front door. Got my cane from where it was leaning against the fridge. Unlocked the door. Went out to the corridor. Turned. Locked the door with my key. Limped down the corridor. Opened the stairwell door. Stepped onto the landing at the top of the stairs. The stairwell door swung closed behind me.
I girded up my loins. Literally.
I had lost 30 pounds since the accident. My jeans no longer fit. Neither did my belt. I stared down the stairs. Terrified. I remembered the stairwell at the SBB building at Foothills Medical Center. My second to last day of physio. Kenny began the physio with the usual suite of stretching exercises. He grabbed my wheechair. Handed me a rope like thing. Like the belt of a bathroom robe. Only longer. Only stronger.
“We’re finishing up with the stairs”, Kenny said.
“Oh. Goody.”
I wheeled my chair past Recreation Therapy. To the door to the stairwell. Kenny opened it. I wheeled in. To the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Get up from your wheelchair”, Kenny said.
I pushed myself erect. Stood shaking slightly.
“Okay. We’re going to climb four steps. As usual, I will hold onto your left arm. To make sure you are safe. Ready to go?” Kenny took my left arm.
“Most people have no trouble going up stairs. The problem comes on the descent.” said Kenny.
Kenny gently urged me forward. And, upward.
I lifted my left leg. Placed it on the first riser. Lifted. Dragged my right leg onto the first riser.
“Three to go.” Kenny said.
We ascended the next 3 risers using the same strategy.
“Okay. Now turn around.” Kenny said. “This is the hardest part for most people.”
I turned around. Carefully. Slowly. Like a baby taking his first steps.
Which I was. I had not gone down a set of stairs in forever. Well, more like 2 months. On the unit I had graduated to using a walker. But when I left the unit it was by wheelchair. Not, as my step-mpm called it Shank’s Mare.
It was like those scenes in Vertigo. 4 steps, risers, telescoping into ten. Twenty.
Now I saw what the belt thing was for. Kenny wrapped the belt thing around my waist. He stood right behind me. On the riser just in back of me.
“Now. Take your time. Take a breath. And, step down. I will hang on to you.”
All I could imagine was me slipping. Falling. Tumbling down. Kenny right behind me. Us lying at the bottom of the stairs. In a pool of blood. Kenny injured. Me dead. At last.
I took a breath. Lifted my foot an inch off the fourth riser. Started to move it forward. Down to the third riser.
Then it happened.
