Doctor's Orders

61. Rehabilitation

Harry was able to go home after a few days in the hospital, once they made sure his surgical site looked like it was starting to heal and they made sure the swelling had gone down from his skull fracture and the resulting concussion. He came home in a wheelchair so he could get around if he was tired or sore. But the surgeon and his physical therapist told him to get up and walk a few times a day as well. Instead of scheduling PT appointments at a clinic, he hired a private physical therapist to come to the apartment a few times a week. A nice benefit of having lots of money, I guess. 

I had bought a bed rest pillow so that he could sit up in bed. I also bought a wedge pillow, figuring it would be easier to keep his leg elevated that way than to try to balance it on something in the living room. I made him strip down to his boxers, mainly because I wanted to see the bruising on his torso and inspect his leg again (even though the nurse at the hospital had just done it an hour ago). He got into bed and I covered him up to his waist and told him to tell me if he got too cold.

"So, what would you like to eat? Do you have the remote for the TV? What about pain? Are you in pain? I can get your pills if-"

He laughed at me babbling away. "You don't have to baby me."

"Sure I do," I said, climbing on the bed next to him. I smoothed my hand over his chest, telling him, "Something changed in me when I first heard you'd had an accident. I felt like everything else that was important to me, everything, just faded away and all I could think about was you. And that, if you didn't make it, I would surely have died, too." I sniffled a little, not wanting to go into full-on crying mode again+. "Of course it wasn't the first time I realized how much you meant to me, but the challenges we've been through - even the drinking - I would gladly accept it all if it meant you would stay with me."

His right hand lifted to my face, skimming his fingertips over my cheek. "I don't want you to accept the drinking," he said. "I'm done. I really am, Ell. I would never willingly cause you pain, but I know that, if I had died, it would have broken your heart, and I'd never want that. And I don't want..." He stopped to regain his composure as he pushed back tears. "You said you didn't want our kids to have an alcoholic father and that...that just...broke me. It was like you showed me myself in a mirror and I didn't like what I saw or where I was heading. At the time, I felt like I had already failed. You wanted to step back and I....damn it!" He stopped to wipe under his eyes. "I felt like like it was over, like I was helpless to stop a habit I'd been doing for so many years. I just thought...I really thought I lost you." 

I started to cry, too, leaning over to hug tightly around his waist, where there was no injury. "I'm sorry." 

"No, no, Ellie, please don't be sorry. That was my wake up call, you know? That was when I realized that something really had to change, but I was low and I felt helpless. Instead of going to the meetings or reaching out to a buddy from AA, I just drank more and made that asinine decision to go for a drive. I always knew in my mind that was one thing I'd never do. I can't explain why I decided to get in the car that night. Maybe I didn't care in the moment whether I lived or died."