Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Addy
I look over the chart of the new patient I’ll be seeing today, my heart breaking.
It’s a little boy, seven years old, who goes by JB.
Apparently, he ‘pissed off’ his stepfather, who threw him through a sliding glass door.
The little guy ended up with a broken arm, a broken leg, and nearly two hundred stitches from all the lacerations he received.
He spent almost a month in the hospital, then was placed in foster care since his mother was high as a kite and thought it was funny to see her son ‘fly through the air’.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I murmur as I look at the pictures included in the file. Aside from the school picture, there are the ones showing his initial injuries, then subsequent progression ones each time a cast was changed and shortened.
JB is small for his age, with a gap-toothed smile, courtesy of the school picture.
Because in the other pictures I’m scrolling through, his infectious grin is gone, and the light has dulled in his eyes.
His injuries were significant, but after twelve weeks, he’s now out of his casts, and it’s time to start rebuilding strength and helping him regain range of motion.
His foster mother, Darby Rossi, is someone I’ve worked with in the past and I know her soft heart probably shattered for this little boy who didn’t deserve to be abused in this manner.
I read through the orthopedist’s notes, jotting down my plan of action once I’ve done my assessment of where he’s at right now.
The doctor seems to feel that he may end up with a slight limp even with physical therapy, and while I respect his professional knowledge, he needs to know that I wouldn’t try to perform surgery so he should stay in his lane.
Not that I’d ever voice that to him because he’s well-known throughout the physical therapist community as a bit of an egotistical jackass.
In his opinion, while he recommends physical therapy to his surgical patients, he doesn’t really believe in it.
Personally, I think he should have retired several years ago, because methods are always changing.
I am glad to see that while JB appears to have some scars from all the lacerations, the plastic surgeon who did the work did a phenomenal job.
“Well, let’s get this day started,” I say out loud. “Good thing I always look at who I’m scheduled to have because I’m wearing the perfect shirt for a little boy who likes superheroes.
“Hey, Darby, who have you brought to see me today?” I ask after coming back from lunch. “Because I thought I was meeting a little boy named JB, not Iron Man,” I tease, peering from my peripheral at the little guy’s face lighting up behind his costume.
“Hey, Addy. Well, JB was a little bit nervous about what physical therapy would entail,” she says, “and so, since I found out how much he likes the Avengers, I told him that maybe you’d be okay with Iron Man coming with him today.”
I crouch in front of the wheelchair that he’s currently sitting in and see Darby’s apologetic look.
“Guess one of his fancy cars wasn’t available to bring you today, huh?
” I ask, making sure the brakes are locked, while I scan the costume to make sure I’ll still be able to do what I need to during his assessment.
“No,” he says, his voice kind of quiet and subdued.
“This works just fine, especially since I know you just got your cast off your leg. That walk from the parking lot is brutal on me and I didn’t just have a cast on my leg for twelve weeks!” I exclaim, looking directly at JB.
“Do you know what happened to me?” he asks.
“A little bit,” I confess, “but you can tell me if you want. The choice is yours, though, okay?” I hear a slight sniff and glance over at Darby and give her a reassuring smile. “In the meantime, how about if I ask you some questions?”
“Okay.” I watch him straighten his little shoulders and it looks like he’s holding his breath.
“Alrighty, how do you feel about frogs?” I ask. “And why do you think the Hulk turns green? Did he drink frog juice or something?”
Little giggles ring out and I smile while I wait. “Um, no, it’s because of the lab explosion when he was David Banner. All the chem… chemicals and stuff make him turn green whenever he hulks out. But he only does that when… when he gets mad. I like frogs though, especially the really big ones.”
“Bullfrogs? I like the noises they make, but frogs kind of scare me,” I confess, “because they jump around and act all willy-nilly.”
“It’s because you’re a girl,” JB replies.
“This is true. I don’t really like snakes either,” I say, then laugh when he shudders. “What do you know about physical therapy?”
“Mama Rossi says it’s to help my arm and leg get strong again, but I don’t know how that happens,” he tells me.
“Well, today’s a very easy visit,” I whisper as I lean closer, like I’m sharing a big secret.
“But yes, Mama Rossi is correct. What I’ll do today is see how you walk, then also take measurements to see what your range of motion is right now so I know what we have to focus on.
When you come here, we’ll do specific exercises, and after so many visits, I’ll do measurements again to see what kind of progress we’ve made so far, okay?
” At his nod, I continue. “I’ll also go over some easy exercises that you’ll do at home between visits, and I’ll show them to Mama Rossi while you do them with my help so she can help you if you need it.
I’m also going to print off those instructions for you to take home. You can read now, right?”
“Not really big words,” he replies, “but Mama Rossi can help me, can’t she?”
“Absolutely! Teamwork makes the dream work and our goal, working together, is to get everything strong again so you can play sports or do whatever it is you enjoy the most.”
“I like to run,” he whispers. “And I really like motorcycles, too.”
“Now, where have you seen motorcycles?” I ask, knowing that there’s a club not too far out of town. I’ve seen them around, but only in passing.
“When I’m riding in the car. I count them,” he replies.
“Okay, here’s the first thing we’re going to do.
I need you to back the chair up to the wall, make sure you lock the brake, then I want you to stand up and walk toward me, turn around and walk back to the chair,” I state.
I have him repeat the action several times while I focus on his gait; he seems to be a little unsure on the newly healed leg which is what I anticipated, which makes him wobble.
“How was that?” he asks when I tell him he can sit back down.
“Not too bad, JB. I can tell you’re a little bit hesitant but that’s why you’re seeing me. It’s been a long time since you were able to walk. Your body has healed, but your mind has to catch up and realize that those bones have knitted themselves together and will hold you and walk.”
“Bones knit?” he asks, a confused look on his face.
I laugh, glad to see a glimpse of what appears to be a precocious, intelligent little boy that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Darby will encourage.
I don’t know what will happen down the road as far as him going back home, of course, but I mentally promise that I’ll do everything possible to ensure he’s strong and ready to take on the world again.
“Well, it’s more of an expression, JB,” I reply. “Do you know anyone who knits?”
“Mama Rossi does sometimes when we sit and watch a movie,” he says.
“Okay, so you know how she has all those stitches on one of the sticks, right?” At his nod, I continue, “and on the other side is what she makes from those stitches. She ‘knits’ the pieces together, and that’s what your bones did while they were healing.
The two parts are now whole again without any breaks.
But your brain says it’ll hurt if you walk on that leg because the last time you tried, it was broken. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” he slowly says.
“Alrighty, can you get up on the table and lay flat?” I ask. “I need to take measurements of your leg, then we can get back into your wheelchair so I can do the same thing with your arm.”
He’s fascinated with the tools I use, asking questions that I freely answer. I know he’s young but I’m a firm believer that kids are far more intelligent than we give them credit for being, and if he understands what our goals are, he’ll be more likely to do the exercises at home.
“What else?” he asks when I’m finally done with all my measurements.
“Now, I’m going to show you and Mama Rossi the exercises I want you to do at home between our sessions. You ready?” I question.
“Me and Iron Man can do it,” he promises.
As I show him then let him do it by himself, I say, “Now, to help with all of this, you’re going to need to eat all of your vegetables, JB. The right food is important to make sure we get the most out of therapy.”
Darby says, “I went online when he was in the casts and found out what would help the most. We increased his protein intake, and of course, vegetables, because I saw that protein helps in the healing process. He still occasionally has a protein drink in between, plus plenty of water.”
“I like regular water, but sometimes, I add water flavors, what about you?” I ask JB.
“Sometimes, Mama Rossi adds cherry ,” he whispers as if it’s a huge state secret. “But I like regular water okay, I guess. And I also get Gatorade, the blue one!”
“I like cherry, but fruit punch Gatorade is my favorite,” I confess.
“Now, you’ve done very well today, JB, but you might be a little bit sore later since we did a lot.
You might not think we did, but trust me, your muscles will ache.
So, what I want you to do is when you’re getting ready for bed, make sure you take a bath with Epsom salts.
It’ll help ease the aches from your muscles working so hard today. Can you do that for me?”
He nods then says, “Mama Rossi made sure that when they took my casts off, I got a bath like that.”
“Then I’m gonna tell you to keep it up,” I reply.
“I’ll see you guys in two days and if Mama Rossi tells me you’ve been doing your at-home exercises, there might just be a surprise for you after your session.
We’re going to be working hard, so I want you to make sure you wear loose, comfortable clothing, okay? ”
“A surprise?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.
“Yeah, it’s something I do for all my favorite superheroes,” I tell him. “Do you need help getting back into your chair since we worked so hard?”
“No, I can do it,” he says as he carefully and cautiously gets down from the table and using that and the wheelchair handle for balance, he gets into the chair with a huge grin.
Looking at Darby, I say, “Jennifer will get you guys on my schedule. I’ll see you in two days but if you have any questions, you have my number. Just call or text.”
“Will do, Addy. Thank you so much,” she says as she stands and prepares to leave.