Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Addy
“Miss Addy!” JB exclaims as he rolls himself into therapy. I’m waiting at the front for him so I can let Darby know she’s free to run a few errands if she needs to since I’ll have him for the next hour.
“Well, look at you, JB,” I reply. “Let me talk to Mama Rossi for just a second then we’ll get started, okay?”
“I’m ready,” he says.
Walking over to Darby, I tell her, “We’ll be about an hour if you have any quick errands you’d like to run.”
“Normally, I’d stay and wait, but I do need to drop a few things off at the post office, plus I was about to put in a pickup order at Walmart. Seems all the kids I’ve got are going through a growth spurt or something because we’re just about out of stuff. Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks.
“Not at all, he’s my last one for the day and I got him a little surprise, so if it takes a few extra minutes, don’t worry. I’ve got paperwork, of course, and he’s a delightful little guy so I don’t mind one bit,” I reply.
“I’ll send you a text later, but it’s a horrible situation.
Apparently, during his therapy session, he told his therapist that sometimes, his mom hurt him too.
So now, CPS has her under investigation because it’s not the first time for her.
She’s also defending what her husband did, saying it wasn’t his fault, that JB was running and tripped over his own two feet. ”
Warring emotions rush through me right now; rage and anger that this little boy couldn’t trust the one person who was supposed to love and care for him, nausea that the place he should have been safest, his own home, was in fact perilous for his well-being.
“Whatever you need, Darby, let me know,” I murmur. “Now, let me go see if Iron Man is ready to work or not.”
She squeezes my arm then crouches next to JB. “I have it on good authority that if you work hard, you might earn a surprise,” she says.
“Did you tell her that I did my exercises at home?” he asks.
“You just did,” Darby replies. “Now, let me go grab these groceries since you guys are eating up a storm.”
Little giggles lighten my mood as I say, “Let’s go, JB, and you can show me what you’ve been doing before we start working hard.”
“Let’s go!” he exclaims, throwing his arm up and causing several of the older adults who are currently working with other therapists to smile.
We get our fair share of young teens due to sports injuries, but JB’s situation is definitely unique, and I mentally vow to do everything I can to ensure he is successful.
“So, how do you feel about what we did today?” I ask JB as I gently massage his arm. “We’re going to be slowly adding more weight.”
“It didn’t seem like it was too hard at first,” he admits as I move to work on his leg. “But it got harder. How come?”
“Well, the first few times, or repetitions, are easy. But we make you do it ten times on each side, then do it again for another ten times. We’ll keep to a total of twenty for at least two weeks, then we’ll go to three.
I saw that when you got to six, it started getting harder, which is why I made you switch to the other side when you hit ten. ”
“But why do I have to do the other side, too?” he questions.
“Now, what kind of physical therapist would I be if I let you get all big and strong on one side but not the other?” I tease.
“It’s called balance, JB. Your leg and arm still have muscles, they’re just a little bit weak from having to heal.
The other side had to work extra hard, which means that we do both so that you regain your strength on the side that was hurt while keeping the muscles active on the other. ”
“Do I still keep doing the stuff at home, too?”
“Absolutely, plus don’t forget about taking Epsom salt baths,” I remind him. “Now, I don’t do this for everyone, but I’m fond of kiddos. Because you worked so hard today, I have a surprise for you.”
His eyes light up as I put a gift bag on his lap.
He really did his best while we worked today, even though I pushed him slightly to see how he’d respond.
Even though this is our second meeting, I know he’ll keep that same can-do attitude, which is half the battle as far as I’m concerned with regard to physical therapy.
There are those who come in and expect us to do the work because we’re the ‘professionals’ but what they don’t understand is that while we have the education and skills, they have to put forth an effort in order for the plan to work and give them any kind of improvement with respect to their health.
Kids, though? They don’t have that bias; there are no preconceived notions. They just want what every child does—approval and acceptance. Tell them they’re doing a good job, praise them when they achieve a listed goal, and explain when they need to work a little bit harder.
I hear him gasp as he pulls out a customized Iron Man tumbler that I found at a nifty comic bookstore I stopped at while I was out with Betty the other day.
They also had age-appropriate comic books about the Avengers, so picked up several of those as well.
“Miss Addy,” he whispers as he clasps the tumbler to his chest with one arm while he thumbs through one of the books with the other.
“I’ve never gotten anything like this before. ”
“You’re welcome, JB. Keep working hard and you’ll earn more surprises along the way, okay?” I reply, smiling at him.
Right now, I wish I was a foster parent.
I’d take him in and if what Darby thinks will happen ended up coming to fruition, I’d adopt him in a heartbeat.
Sadly, I know that the preference is still for two-parent households or, barring that, homes where the foster parent has already been a parent to biological children, even if that foster parent is now single.
Having no kids of my own with no prospects of a daddy for said kids on the horizon, I can only pray that someone does come along who will add JB to their lives.
Because he’s got a lot of love to give and receive, and he needs to know that not all parents are bad ones.
Most love and cherish their babies, long after those kids have reached adulthood.
Darby walks into my office and her face lights up. I had clued her in to my plans so she wouldn’t be in the dark. “Well, I don’t even need to ask Addy how you did today seeing all that,” she says, waving at the gifts still clutched to his tiny chest.
“Look, Mama Rossi, look!” he exclaims, turning the comic books so she can see them. “Will you help me read them?”
“Absolutely. First, we’ll get home, and while I’m cooking dinner you can soak in a bath with Epsom salts. After dinner, while the other kids are doing their homework, we’ll do some reading. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” he says, his voice so excited I can feel myself tearing up. I suspect there haven’t been a lot of gifts in his little life and now I’m on a mission to add as much joy as I can while he works hard to get strong.
“You should have seen his face, Betty,” I say as I flit around my kitchen while my stir fry cooks.
I sip on my ice water as I listen, nodding the whole time.
“The situation is horrible for him, but another friend of mine is his foster mom and she’s wonderful at what she does for the kids she takes in.
He’s homeschooled, right now because of his injuries, and I think they’re going to continue it since he’s still not strong enough to maneuver around the school.
It would be too easy for him to accidentally get hurt. ”
“He sounds like a special little boy. We’ll just pray that the right family finds him.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “Oh! Did I tell you I’ve got a meeting with Mrs. Rockmartin tomorrow? I think it’s as a result of the meeting that Janice had the other day. I only gave her a month’s worth of my schedules, but I’ve been working like that for six months.”
“You’ll have to call and let me know what happens,” Betty replies.
“Definitely! Okay, I gotta run, my stir fry is just about finished, then I’ve got a date with Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid.”
She starts laughing before she asks, “How many times have you watched it at this point?”
“Too many to count,” I admit. “But who cares?”
“You’re right,” she concurs. “Have a good night, Addy.”
“You too, Betty. Talk to you tomorrow!”
I split the meal I just made, half going into a bowl and the other into a container that I’ll take into work for lunch the next day.
I make enough money to eat out, but with such a limited time, I’d rather make something at home and have the majority of my lunch break available to read or even do a little bit of online shopping.
Once the dishes are in the dishwasher and my lunch is packed, I take my bowl, spoon, and water and head into my room. I’ve already locked the house down and my security alarm is set, so now it’s time to eat and chill.
Too bad there’s nobody to chill with… that would put the cherry on top of the sundae.