Strong

Chapter 24: Frustration

I quietly observe Harry during his physical therapy session. He's been very slow and awkward at walking these first few days. I assume that it's just fatigue, but I occasionally fear that it's something more serious. Was there some other complication from the surgery that we don't know about? Dr. Carbondale doesn't seem to think so, but I can't help but feel a lingering concern when I see him struggle so much.

He's been working really hard all week and it's disappointing for me to see him not making as much progress as we'd both like to see. Obviously, it's much harder for Harry but it hurts me that I can see the frustration written across his face.

Harry awkwardly stands up out of his wheelchair, but he can barely make it across the room with the walker, forget even trying with his crutches. He stumbles a few times, with Brian close enough to catch him. After trying to walk across the room two or three more times, Brian re-directs Harry's energy to walking with the parallel bars, facing himself in the mirror. He takes hesitant steps and falls onto one knee about half-way down the mat. Brian catches him so he doesn't fall completely, but I can see that Harry has had enough.

He regains his balance, makes it to the end of the bars, throws his crutches off the wheelchair so that they clatter loudly across the tile floor. He sits down with a huff. "I'm done!" He tells Brian sharply.

I've never seen Harry act like this. I close my eyes and say a quiet prayer, God please help him. Then I take the wheelchair from Brian and silently wheel Harry back to his room. He returns to his bed. Again, he slumps back and closes his eyes but he doesn't fall asleep. I'm not sure he's ready for encouragement, so I say nothing and sink into the chair next to him.

Finally, he whispers, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I ask.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. I kind of lost it." He's still closing his eyes as he answers.

I move to sit on the bed next to him, placing my hand on his cheek and he opens his eyes. "Harry, don't be ridiculous. I can't imagine how hard this is for you. If you didn't get frustrated, you wouldn't be human."

He sighs, "I know. I just thought I was past all of this, you know?"

"I know, Baby. Don't worry about what I think, okay? You can't scare me." I pull him into a tight embrace to assure him that he hasn't freaked me out.

"I think I feel a little scared myself," he tells me. "It took a lot for me to get over the crash. I'm not sure how to explain it. I guess I feel kind of vulnerable. Or maybe it's like, I'm afraid to be vulnerable. I've set my mind on being strong for such a long time...." I just stroke his hand and nod my head, silently allowing him to continue. "It was awful, you know. The accident. Finding out I would never walk normally again. I thought I was done with all of that, but this just makes me feel like I'm starting over." He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

I slowly grasp what he's trying to communicate. When I first met Harry, he seemed so complete, so confident, so perfect. But he is wounded and the hurt runs deep. So deep that it has been covered over and looks as if it has healed, but the wound underneath is still very real. The process of going through surgery and the coma - and now physical therapy - has opened the wound again and the hurt is new and fresh. Once again, he has to face his fear of losing his dreams, the fears of not walking, not becoming a doctor, not having a family. The only thing I can do is to be there for him. I can't heal this hurt.

Only God can.

I'm not entirely sure that he won't cry. And then the tears materialize, streaking silently down his face.

"It's okay if you're scared sometimes." I put my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in his neck. I feel his body move with quiet sobs. I hold him tighter.

His breathing calms and he whispers in my ear. "I'm so afraid of failing, Kate."

I pull away and look at him, "What do you mean by failing?"

"I just want to be able to provide for you," he sniffles. "When I first had the accident, all I really had to think about was trying to walk again and getting through high school and into a good college. Now, we're on the verge of making a family. I want to be able to do everything I've dreamed of doing, and I want to take care of you. I decided sometime in the past few years that I would live my life like nothing ever happened to me. Now, I'm being reminded that I can't do everything, and I can't just pretend I can." His voice cracks as he finishes.

"Oh, Harry," I tell him. "You're wrong. You can do anything." I hesitate before admitting to him, "I overheard your conversation with your dad, the other night. Remember? When I came back for my purse. You told your dad he wasn't a failure. And that you forgave him. Don't let the past come back to haunt you. Your dad doesn't think you're a failure. And you never will be."

"What if I can't make love to you?" He barely whispers. "Will you still want me?"

"I'm in love with you, and I'm staying with you forever, no matter what. But what have the doctors said about that in particular?"

"I have bowel and bladder control so that means I should also experience normal sexual functioning." He blushes slightly, admitting, "I mean, I know I can get an erection."

My face flushes hot, too, but I reassure him, "See? I doubt that part of it will be a problem. As far as your ability to actually become a father, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Besides, this isn't about what you can give me, Harry. This is about us giving ourselves to each other and uniting our lives together because we love each other, right?"

With that, he kisses me urgently, lapping his tongue softly against mine. I'm glad his parents aren't there at the moment because I'm happy to let the kiss linger, enjoying the unique flavor and texture of his lips. My hand travels back to his face, caressing his skin, squeezing lightly as he takes my breath away. In turn, both of his hands pull me closer, one entwining into my hair and the other pressing my chest firmly against him.

I've never experienced the level of desire that engulfs me as the kiss becomes more heated and more fervent. I'm shocked at my own response when a moan climbs up my throat. Harry responds in kind and it causes excitement to shoot through the very center of my body.

He finally pulls back, breathless. I steal a glance south of his waist and giggle, "You didn't have to prove it to me." His jaw drops open and a guffaw bursts out of his gut. He doesn't even voice his incredulity and I continue with a proud laugh, "I said that. I did."

He kisses me again, softly, still chuckling and then I change the subject. "I prayed for you again today. And I read another verse in the Bible. I found one in your room and I've been reading it. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength," I recite the verse for him.

A new light enters his eyes. "Thank you, that means a lot to me."

Harry continues physical therapy for another week. He does seem to improve in terms of stamina, strength, and balance, at least to my untrained eye, although he still seems more frustrated than not upon completion of most sessions.

I do my best to encourage him and love him unconditionally. It seems to me that even before we're married, our commitment is already being tested and I want nothing more than to prove to him that I'm with him for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

* * * * *

I used the gif above from Dunkirk because I imagine the same look on Harry's face when he gets frustrated during therapy.

The Scripture passage is Philippians 4:13