It was 8 in the morning when Nurse Alyson gently woke me up. She gave me a moment to fully wake up, allowing me to adjust before starting the day. A few minutes later, Mikael entered my room, his usual calm and professional demeanor present as he approached my bed.
"Ma'am, I'm going to help you up now," he said gently. "Are you ready for me to lift you into your wheelchair?"
Still feeling drowsy, I simply nodded in response. Without hesitation, Mikael carefully lifted me, making sure I was comfortable before settling me into my wheelchair. Once I was securely seated, Alyson took over, wheeling me toward the bathroom while Mikael stepped out to give us privacy.
"I'll be right outside. Just call me when you're done," Mikael said before leaving the room.
Once inside the bathroom, Alyson knelt at my level, her voice soft yet professional.
"Ma'am, I'll be assisting you with your bath today. I understand that this might feel uncomfortable since we're still strangers, but please know that this is part of my job. I want to ensure you're properly cared for. May I help you undress?" she asked politely, waiting for my permission.
A wave of embarrassment washed over me, but I knew I had no choice. At least Alyson was a woman—a married one and a mother of two daughters—so I reassured myself that this was purely professional. Taking a deep breath, I gave her a small nod.
Alyson handled everything with care, ensuring I was as comfortable as possible. Once I was clean and refreshed, she helped me into a cozy pullover and a pair of gym shorts, explaining that it would be best for my first day of physical therapy.
When we were finished, she called for Mikael. Moments later, he returned, effortlessly lifting me from my seat and placing me back in my wheelchair.
"All set?" he asked with a small smile.
I nodded, feeling a little more awake now. Today was my first day of therapy—a step closer to walking again. Despite the uncertainty, a small spark of hope ignited in my chest.
Mikael wheeled me out of my room and into the hallway, where Nurse Alyson walked beside us, ensuring I was comfortable. The house was quiet in the early morning, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, casting warm golden hues along the corridors. The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as we descended to the ground floor, where my therapy would take place in a specially designed rehabilitation room.
As we entered, I took in my surroundings. The room was spacious, filled with state-of-the-art rehabilitation equipment—parallel bars, resistance bands, balance balls, and a set of light weights. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the lush garden, providing a serene view as if to make the upcoming struggle feel a little less daunting.
A middle-aged man with a strong build and kind eyes stood waiting for us. He wore a navy blue polo with a logo that read "Elite Recovery Therapy Center."
"Good morning, Noa," he greeted warmly, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Evan Carter, your physical therapist. I'll be working with you to get you back on your feet—literally."
I shook his hand, offering a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Carter."
"Likewise. I know this is a big step for you, but I promise, we'll take things slow and at your own pace," he reassured me before glancing at Mikael and Alyson. "Shall we begin?"
Mikael positioned my wheelchair in front of the parallel bars, locking the wheels in place. Dr. Carter crouched beside me, his gaze assessing my legs.
"Before we start, I'd like to test your current strength. Can you try wiggling your toes for me?"
I took a deep breath, focusing all my energy on my feet. Slowly but surely, my toes twitched—a small movement, but a victory nonetheless.
"Good," he nodded. "Now, let's try lifting your legs just a little."
I attempted to raise my right leg, but it barely moved an inch before exhaustion set in. Frustration prickled at the back of my mind, but Dr. Carter remained unfazed.
"That's okay. The fact that you can move even a little means your muscles are still responsive," he said encouragingly. "We'll strengthen them little by little."
He then guided me through some passive range-of-motion exercises, gently stretching my legs and massaging my muscles to improve circulation. The movements felt strange, my limbs heavy and uncooperative, but I knew this was just the beginning.
"Alright, Noa, now comes the tricky part," Dr. Carter said as Mikael positioned himself behind me for support. "We're going to attempt a sit-to-stand exercise using the parallel bars. Your job is to push up using your arms while engaging your legs as much as possible. We'll assist you, but I want you to try."
A nervous knot formed in my stomach. This was it—the moment of truth.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the bars tightly and braced myself. Mikael and Dr. Carter stood ready, providing light assistance. I pushed against the bars, trying to lift myself up, but my legs trembled under the pressure. Sweat formed on my forehead as I struggled to hold the position for even a few seconds before collapsing back into the wheelchair.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. "I can't do it," I whispered, frustration lacing my voice.
Dr. Carter crouched beside me, his expression filled with understanding. "You can do it. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Your body needs time to rebuild what it lost. Trust the process, Noa. We're here to help you."
Alyson handed me a towel, and I wiped the sweat from my face, taking slow, steady breaths. The disappointment still lingered, but so did a flicker of determination.
"We'll keep working at this every day," Dr. Carter continued. "For now, let's finish with some stretching and light muscle stimulation to help with circulation. You did great on your first day."
Mikael patted my shoulder as Alyson helped me hydrate. Despite the struggle, I could already tell that this was going to be a long but rewarding journey.
As Mikael wheeled me back to my room, I looked out the window at the morning sun, shining brightly over the garden.
I wasn't there yet; it may look like baby steps, but I was on my way.
Later that afternoon, I heard a gentle knock on my door.
"Come in," I called out.
The door opened, revealing Mom and Dad. Mom rushed toward me with a warm smile, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
"Hello, sweetie! How was your first day of therapy?" she asked, her voice filled with concern and excitement.
Dad followed closely behind, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before taking a seat beside me. "You look tired," he noted. "Did you eat already?"
"Yeah, I ate and took my meds too," I assured them. "Dr. Carter made me try the sit-to-stand exercise today."
Mom's eyes lit up with interest as she settled onto the couch, placing her bag beside her. "Oh? And how did it go?"
I let out a small sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and exhaustion. "Honestly? It was really difficult. All I managed to do was twitch my toes."
Dad reached over and gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "That's still progress, Noa. Well done," he said warmly.
I offered him a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Dad."
After a moment, something clicked in my mind, and I frowned slightly. "Wait a second… why didn't you guys tell me we had a built-in rehabilitation room in the house?" I asked, looking between them in confusion.
Mom and Dad exchanged knowing glances before Mom finally answered. "Oh, about that," she said with a small chuckle. "That room used to be an art studio, but we decided to convert it into a rehabilitation space just for you. This way, you wouldn't have to go through the hassle of traveling to a rehab center every day."
I blinked, surprised. "So you transformed that entire room just for me? And in such a short time?"
Mom nodded, smiling softly. "After you woke up and Dr. Williams told us about your potential for a fast recovery, we wanted to make things as comfortable and convenient for you as possible. It took a little over a week to set everything up, but we didn't want you to worry about anything except getting better."
I felt a lump form in my throat, overwhelmed by the love and effort my parents had put into making my recovery easier. I glanced at Dad, who was watching me with a proud yet gentle expression.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion.
Mom reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. "Anything for you, sweetheart."
At that moment, I realized just how lucky I was to have them by my side, supporting me every step of the way. No matter how long or difficult this journey would be, I knew I wouldn't have to face it alone.