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[ROTM] Rehabilitation
Sep. 24th, 2007 11:22 amPeople told him to take it one day at a time.
Every time they did, he wanted to bite their heads off and tell them when they’d had a huge chunk blown out of their side, they could tell him to take it one day at a time.
It wasn’t the rehabilitation that bothered him so much. Physical therapy wasn’t that bad—the doctor was cute enough, and if she was having a good day, she might actually flirt back when he flirted with her—but the rest of the time when he had to sit in a hospital room, or on his couch at home, bored out of his skull, was pure torture. He wasn’t used to something like this, and while everyone knew it, they also should know him well enough to know that telling him to take it easy wasn’t exactly going to help.
But he didn’t tell them that. On the days when his temper was shorter, he tried to fight the urge to snap back at them, and just took a deep breath before forcing the smile, with the usual nod and ‘yeah, I know.’ On the better days, he just shrugged it off. And on the really good days, they wouldn’t say anything, and just grab a beer from his fridge and plop down in his living room to watch the game. Those were the days he favored over everything else, because those were the days that felt most normal, and least out of place. Those were the days where he didn’t have to think about what he had been through, and what he could or couldn’t remember.
Those were the days when people actually let him forget.
284 words
Every time they did, he wanted to bite their heads off and tell them when they’d had a huge chunk blown out of their side, they could tell him to take it one day at a time.
It wasn’t the rehabilitation that bothered him so much. Physical therapy wasn’t that bad—the doctor was cute enough, and if she was having a good day, she might actually flirt back when he flirted with her—but the rest of the time when he had to sit in a hospital room, or on his couch at home, bored out of his skull, was pure torture. He wasn’t used to something like this, and while everyone knew it, they also should know him well enough to know that telling him to take it easy wasn’t exactly going to help.
But he didn’t tell them that. On the days when his temper was shorter, he tried to fight the urge to snap back at them, and just took a deep breath before forcing the smile, with the usual nod and ‘yeah, I know.’ On the better days, he just shrugged it off. And on the really good days, they wouldn’t say anything, and just grab a beer from his fridge and plop down in his living room to watch the game. Those were the days he favored over everything else, because those were the days that felt most normal, and least out of place. Those were the days where he didn’t have to think about what he had been through, and what he could or couldn’t remember.
Those were the days when people actually let him forget.
284 words
