Chapter 13 - Grant Asked to Hear Every Medical Update Himself
The new rehabilitation rules were painfully simple.
If a therapist observed movement, Grant heard it.
If a session changed, Grant approved it.
If a doctor called, the doctor spoke directly to Grant.
Nobody summarized first.
Nobody softened.
Nobody filtered.
Grant discovered how much he disliked this arrangement.
Some updates were discouraging.
His left leg improved more slowly.
Balance remained poor.
Pain increased after certain exercises.
Derek used to remove those details from conversation or reinterpret them.
Without him, recovery felt less reassuring.
Also more real.
One afternoon Dr. Moore said:
“You may always use a wheelchair for longer distances.”
Grant stared at her.
Months earlier that sentence would have enraged him.
Now he asked:
“And short distances?”
“Too early to know.”
Not optimism.
Not doom.
Truth.
Grant nodded.
Later Evan visited.
Grant managed three supported steps between parallel bars.
The boy watched.
“That looked terrible.”
Grant breathed heavily.
“Leave.”
“You dragged your left foot.”
“I know.”
“Your therapist’s face was scared.”
“She was concentrating.”
“She looked scared.”
The therapist laughed.
Grant glared at both of them.
Then sat.
No miracle.
No cinematic recovery.
Three ugly steps.
He valued them more than the dramatic half-stand at the reception because these belonged to him.
No kick.
No panic.
May you like
No hidden device.
No one else deciding what they meant.
