The Worst Had Happened

The Worst Had Happened

“When you stand, I don’t want you to put more than 50% of your weight on your left leg.” George, my way-too-cute, way-too-young, physical therapist said as he bent down, strapped a belt around my waist and pulled it tight. Then, he stood, gave me a reassuring smile, grabbed the belt and braced himself. “Now stand up.”

“What?” It had only been ten days since I’d been thrown from a horse, broken my pelvic bone in two places, cracked my tailbone and smacked my head on the ground – which, embarrassingly enough, only caused a minor concussion. And now, he wanted me to walk?

What if he dropped me?

I scanned the hospital therapy room, looking for a way to escape.

George gave the belt around my waist a gentle tug. “Ready?”

“You’re crazy. You can’t hold me.” My eyes narrowed. “Do you know how much I weigh?”

“Actually, I do.” He smirked. “And we’ll be fine.”

I recoiled. Nobody, except my doctor, knew how much I weighed, and he swore he never recorded it.

Which meant… George was lying.

Confident, I returned his smirk and ratcheted it up a notch. “Well then, tell me. Whisper – how much.”

George leaned in and murmured… the correct number.

Betrayed. I seethed. “Slanderous lies.”

George cocked his left eyebrow. “Really?”

Then, he burst into a grin. “Let’s go.”

I shot him a withering look, then stood. I took hold of my walker.

George braced himself, as if preparing to catch an elephant.

I took one step, then another, and another. Until I found myself in front of the ‘Shuttle,’ a leg press machine they must have salvaged from the dungeon torture chamber of some medieval castle.

“Okay. Lay here. Put your feet on this platform. You’re going to push 50% of your weight.”

I looked at him like he was crazy… But, since he’d been right about everything so far, I waddled, scooted and wedged myself on the machine, then laid back.

“Now, with your good leg, push the platform back.”

I gripped the sides of the plank and pushed. It didn’t move. I gritted my teeth and pushed harder. Still nothing.

“Come on. You should be able to move 50% of your body weight with ease.”

So, I summed up every bit of strength and pushed again.

Nothing.

George scowled, letting me see his disapproval. Then, he lowered the weight. “Okay, try it now.”

I did. It still didn’t move.

We did this dance three more times.

Finally, I got it to move.

Victory!

“How much was that?” I asked, gleeful that I had finally conquered the machine.

“Fifty pounds.” George frowned. “That’s all.”

I fell back on the plank. Defeated.

Then it hit me.

“Well,” I rejoiced. “At least now you can correct my weight in those libelous medical records. I just proved I weigh exactly one hundred pounds.”

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There are 4 comments for this article
  1. Stu at 3:19 pm

    I remember that machine, you need it to strengthen your core and thigh muscles. Wait till he shows you the other machines 😉 My fav was the wobble board, used for balance training.

    • Karen Ekstrom at 7:37 am

      Yep, I’m becoming skilled at all sorts of equipment but the most embarrassing is the “old lady belt” around my waist so people can catch me and jerk me back up, when I’m walking/falling… It’s very stylish!!!

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