The Long Road to Recovery

Oksana would be angry; he did not dare doubt that. But since his injury, he found her to be a constant irritation, a fly that refused to go away no matter how many times he swatted. She was not a benevolent caretaker, but more of a distraction from the healing process. She was to drive him to his physical therapy sessions every other day. However, she was never ready at the appropriate time, so he relied more and more on Max to pick him up, drive him across town to PMC, and then—with hope and a little luck—Oksana would be the one taking him back home. She had yet to fall from that duty; yet, he could not help but think it was too little, too late.

Geno walked through the many corridors of the center, traveling toward the Sport Medicine and Rehabilitation department. He wore only training sweatpants, a Penguins shirt and hat, his hair slightly messy underneath. The center was surprisingly quiet, he passing only a nurse or patient every other hallway. When he started his rehabilitation, they would wheel him from the front in a wheelchair. However, his leg had healed to the point where he could walk on his own with only a slight tinge of pain if he exerted too much force.

Pushing open the door to the department, Geno looked around for her. In the distance, in the waiting area, there were five or six people reading old magazines, quietly sitting in solitude amongst themselves. At the long, sectioned desk, nurses in bubblegum pink scrubs charted and talked medical jargon. He did not see her on his first glance, letting out a little sigh and confining himself to feelings of disappointment.

“Geno?” A voice asked from behind his tall figure. He quickly turned to see her standing a few feet away.

“Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow, is everything okay?” She was dressed in a white coat, it hiding a classy pants suit. Her hair was in a loose bun; her glasses rested gently on her nose.

Geno struggled to find the right words, thinking in Russian at first. He slowly translated his thoughts the best he could:

“I…” he said, nervously. “I…have…pain, in leg.” It was the best he could muster at the sight of her.

“Have you taken your pain medicine, today,” she asked, looking at the clipboard in her hand.

“Yes,” he responded. “It…not take pain away.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go back to my office, and I’ll write you a prescription for something a bit stronger.”

He did not really have a pain in his leg. He did not really want the medicine. However, Geno could not find the words he wanted to say to her. She was his doctor; he was nothing more to her than a patient. They made their way into her office at the end of the hall, he entering right behind her. It was painted grey; the carpet was bluish black. A giant window looked out over downtown Pittsburgh. Along the right wall stood a high bookshelf covered in medical texts with breaks in the rows at certain points, which she accented with a picture or some knick-knack of obvious importance. She flicked the lamp on her desk on.

“I gave you Loratab. If it isn’t working, we can try Tylenol 3,” she took out her prescription pad and began scribbling on it.

“Doctor…” Geno said. “I…don’t…really have pain. I want know if you…want get lunch…with me.” It was a simple request, said not so simply. His heart began to pound, waiting for her response.

She took off her glasses, laying them in front of her. Pushing the notepad aside, she looked at him standing stiffly by the door.

“Geno,” she said, reluctantly. “Geno, you have a girlfriend. Why are you asking me out?”

She did not have the tone of scorn, as if she was smiting him for his question. Her mind was more confused by his invitation. Yet, that confusion was not to be seen by him, and she made sure of this by masking it with curiosity.

“I…” he struggled once more. “I…can’t stand.” He stopped, thinking he got most of his point across. Alas, she still looked confused. “Is okay…I go,” he whispered, looking down at his feet.

He turned and walked out of her office. Sighing, she put her glasses back on, flipping the pad back into the open drawer. Leaning back in the chair, she peered at the open door, watching nurses walk back and forth. Usually she noticed such activity; however, for a moment she forgot of it. After all, a six-foot-three man had been blocking the movement of the world outside her door. It calmed her to think he, with just standing there, could do that.

~~~

Geno stormed into the elevator, not with anger but with sadness and embarrassment. He was usually more reserved than that, at least when he was sober. He could not accept what he had done, and what she must have thought of him.

He banged his head against the steel wall, back-kicking it with his bad leg. He winced in pain, grabbing a-hold of his knee. The last thing he needed to do was rip it again, and have another awkward encounter with her in the ER.

Watching the numbers of the elevator as it descended, he took in a deep breath. Not only would he have to live with this situation, he would have the deal with Oksana this evening.

The elevator doors opened to the busy lobby. Geno walked slowly out, moving around people waiting to enter the elevator. Some people noticed him, stared, and then went back to their business. He heard a little boy mention his name to his mother, but Geno paid it no real attention. Too transfixed by what had occurred, the Russian quietly walked in the direction of the front.

Waiting on a bench, he flipped through the contacts on his phone. He did not want to call Oksana; she did not even know he had come to the center today. Max had dropped him off on the way to the arena. Knowing Max would not be out of practice, Geno tried to find another person to call.

Someone sat down next to him on the bench. He slightly noticed his new bench-neighbor as he moved through his call-list.

“I didn’t say no,” a voice said next to him. Geno looked over to see her sitting in her white coat, looking off across the street at the foot-traffic. Her hair was no longer in a bun, tossed softly onto her right shoulder. He did not have the words to say anything. Instead, this hulking man stared at the delicate lady beside him.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.