Forever: A Lobster Kind Of Love (14 page)

“Okay now reach for the big bar.” Craig came around behind me and supported me at the waist, grabbing my hips. “Don’t worry. I've got you.”

One hand over now, how was I supposed to get my other hand over?

“Don’t stop, Ryan, use your body weight momentum to swing over. I am going to let go of your hips, and you are going to swing. That’s when you grab the bar. Ready?”

I nodded and he let me go, but his hands stayed close as my body swung by one arm. I quickly let go and reached for the bar.

“Got it! Now what?” Here I was, hanging like a sheet blowing in the wind on a line.

“Now, let’s see what you got. Pull up!” I tried to hoist my dead weight up, but I could only get about halfway putting my arms at about a 90-degree angle. I felt a nudge and slight lift as Craig grabbed my hips, pushing me further.

“Come on all the way. Get up there. Just one, you can do it.”

I tried a little harder and the top of my head was at bar level.

“Come on pull! Just one rep. Pull!” Craig urged me and I felt him supporting some of my weight. I tilted my head back and pulled as hard as I could until my chin taps the bar.

“Good job!”

I relaxed and hung from the bar once again. I still felt his hands on my hips, but he was not supporting my weight.

“Can you hold it there for three more seconds?”

“Yes, but hurry.” Craig let go and quickly folded my chair, taking it to the bedroom side of the threshold and set it back up, locking the wheels.

“Okay Ryan, with one hand, reach and grab the safety bar on this side.”

I was frozen but my hands were starting to slip. Craig grabbed my hips once again.

“Come on; you can do this. Reach for the bar. I got you.”

I had no doubt he had me; he looked like he could bench press a Volkswagen. I let go with my right arm and my body weight swung me forward, wrapping around the doorframe to my left, and I grabbed the bar.

“Okay, now the other hand, the hard part is over.” I let go and since the safety bar was lower than the bar, I was dropping.
Oh shit. I’m slipping
. Now hanging from the safety bar, my feet were on the floor and I kept slipping down the bar until my hands reached the bottom curve and I was in a stretched semi-seated position.

“Craig? A little help here? I’m don’t have anywhere else to go from here.”

Craig put my chair right behind me and said, “Let go.”

I let go and landed on the edge of the memory foam cushion of my chair. I was so relieved I hadn’t ended up on the floor. Craig came around from behind me with his fist outstretched at me. “Now that wasn’t hard, was it? Welcome to your bedroom, Ryan.”

I’m in my bedroom.
Holy shit, I think I love this man.

“You going to leave me hanging, bro?” Craig’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts and amazement. I gave him a fist bump and started laughing.

“Dude, no homo, but I think I love you.”

He just laughed and shook his head at me. “No problem, man. Now let’s see about the rest of your renovations. ”

Sam emerged from the bathroom, tool bag in hand and dropped it next to the bed. “The bathroom is all done, Craig. Let me know if you need any height adjustments. I’m going to head out to the truck and grab the rest of the long pipes and the cables.”

“Thanks, Sam. We will stay out of your way, but before you get started, can you make sure you bring that alternate wheelchair with you so Ryan here can get around the bathroom easier?”

“Okay, be right back.” And Sam went off to complete whatever Craig had planned for him. Craig turned his attention back to me and cocked his head.

“Lydia said you were eager to take a shower?”

“Do I smell that bad?” I asked as I smelled the armpits of my shirt.

“Not yet, but it’s June, so it won’t take long for you to ripen,” he said with a smirk.

Sam returned with a higher seated chair that had a lower back and wider set wheels with fold down footholds, padded armrests, and tailback rocker bars.

“This will be your bed and bath chair. It’s taller and will be easier to transfer from the doorway and in the bath and into your bed with the added height. But since you are already in that chair, let’s go.”

My en suite had French doors at both the entry to the closet and to the bathroom so width restrictions were not an issue in here. The first thing I noticed was all the clothing bars had been lowered, and a shelf placed above it where some of my shoes had been neatly lined up.

As I proceeded into the master bath, there were bars everywhere. Parallel bars were on each side of the toilet, another set on each side of my pedestal sink with a horizontal bar that ran across above the sink, safety bars on each side of the shower entry, a bathing seat with a back rested in the shower and safety bars in and around the tub.

“Wow it’s like disability heaven in my bathroom." Craig just laughed, shaking his head.

“You got a good nurse out there, Ryan. She’s looking out for you. Hell, she tracked me down. I will be here to help for a little while to get you started. Waste my time and I’m outta here. But give me your 200% best effort and you get a little piece of independence back. Deal?” He put his fist out once more and I gave him a pound.

“Deal.”

“Well, all right. How about that shower while I turn the rest of your bedroom into a jungle gym?”

“Hell yes!”

Craig grabbed me some easy sweats and boxers to change into from my dresser and two towels off the shelf. I bent over and pulled off my sneakers and socks, then pulled my t-shirt off over my head.

With Craig guiding me, I pulled up on the safety bar next to the shower and swiveled into the bathing seat. Sam or Craig, I’m not sure which, had thought of everything, even lowering the bracket for the shower massager so I could reach it easily.

“Okay Craig, I got it from here. If you could just unfold one towel across the seat of my chair and hang the other through the safety bar, I will be all set.” He did as I asked and left.

“Holler if you need something,” he yelled over his shoulder from the closet.

After Craig left, I leaned to one side, supporting myself with the bars and slid my track pants down one hip then rocked the other way, scooting my pants and boxers down and off my legs. As they fell to the shower floor, I didn’t even care. I should burn them for sitting in the same clothes for 4 days, so a little water and soap wasn’t going to hurt them.

As I turned the lever to the HOT position, the pulsating warm water hit my lap, and it was the best feeling ever. As the water caressed my skin, running down my legs in streams, I thought to myself, I had been in my house for four days, but now, I was home.

I washed and scrubbed my skin with the rough loofah until it was pink and flushed. I scrubbed my hair with shampoo until my scalp tingled. Then, I sat under the stream of hot water until it started to run cold.

I crawled back to my chair and the new construction in my bedroom was complete. It looked like someone had built a cage over my bed. As I rolled into my bedroom, I spotted Craig attaching what appeared to be big rubber bands to the bars at the foot of the bed.

“Are you planning on catapulting me into bed?” I joked.

Craig gave the orange band a good yank and chuckled. “Nah, but it could make for an interesting Friday night.” Yup, I liked this guy.

My stomach growled loudly, “As much as I would love to see what kinky cripple shit you can come up with, I have to feed the alien in me.”

He chuckled. “Well, you need to get out the bedroom first.”

“Get ready to grab my chair.”

With new conviction, I grabbed the safety bar, pulled upright, reached for the pull-up bar and prayed on all that was holy that my second hand made purchase as I let go of the safety bar and swung my limp legs into the doorway.

“Good job Ryan, you’re a quick learner.” He folded my chair halfway so it would fit through the entryway and locked the wheels for me.

“Okay, all set but first, while you are there, pull up.”

“What?” I blurted out still hanging in the doorway.

“Come on, pull up! Earn your lunch. Lydia has been in the kitchen all morning. Pull up!” I spotted Lydia in the kitchen as she bent over to grab an onion from the fridge, but she went back to cooking and didn’t look my way. With new determination, I pulled on the bar with all my strength. Craig grabbed my legs to stop me from swinging, and I felt him nudging me upward. Not pushing, not lifting, just nudging me.

“Come on, a little more. Get your chin up there.” And he nudged me again, and I gave one last tug as my chin tapped the bar.

“Hold it! Hold it! Little more, now slowly ease down and grab the safety bar on the other side.”

Now it made sense why there were bars on both sides the doorway. I’m right handed and so I felt more confident grabbing to the left and letting my body swing rather than reaching with my non-dominant arm. Craig wasn’t a designer; he was a fucking genius. The momentum of my swinging useless legs enough force to grab with my second hand as Craig moved my chair closer to the doorway and locked the wheels.

“Okay, you’re all set. Now plant the landing.”

I slid down the safety bar to the bottom and let my weight drop creating a natural bend at the knees.

“Now you have to trust your chair. You have anti-tip bars in the back, just in case you have a hard landing but you are going to have to figure out with practice where to put your chair.”

I looked behind me and saw my chair at the back of my knees. I let go with one arm and reach back for the armrest. I landed right on the edge, quickly grabbing both armrests and scooting myself up before I ended up on the floor.

“You’ll get there. But not bad for day one.” Craig said with a pat on my shoulder. He extended his arm for a fist pump to the air. Just as my adrenaline started to wane, my heart returned to a manageable rhythm. Then the smell of garlic and onions invaded my nose, assaulting my senses, spurring a roar from deep within my gut.

“Lydia?” I was so busy with Craig this morning and Lydia had made herself scarce.

“Yeah, Ryan?” She popped her head out of the kitchen with a knife in one hand and a red pepper in the other wearing my “Kiss the Chef” shamrock apron.

“What are you making and please tell me it’s almost ready?”

“Was wondering when you boys were going to come out and eat. It’s been ready. This,” holding out the red pepper, “is for tomorrow.”

“Okay, if that’s for tomorrow, what’s for today?”

She smiled. “Sausage and peppers. The butcher had made fresh cheese and parsley sausage and I picked up some club rolls from the bakery.”

Craig and I moaned in unison. Apparently, he liked the sound of that, too. I looked up at Craig as he rubbed his chin, “You staying bro?”

Craig grinned widely. “You’re going to have to throw me out.”

Lydia disappeared into the kitchen and came out a few minutes later with two sandwiches overflowing with cut up sausage topped with glistening sautéed onions with red and green peppers.

Craig grabbed both plates from Lydia and asked, “What’s Ryan eating?”

What? Fucking prick. He turned to me with a plate in each hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Just kidding, man. But you better hurry up because this looks like an appetizer.”

I rolled over to him and ran straight across his foot. Craig grimaced and held a curse just inside of his teeth.

“Oh sorry, was that your foot? Aw, my bad. You can stick it in your mouth to wash down your sandwich.” I said as I grabbed my plate from his hand and rolled in front of the TV.

“Well played, man, well played,” Craig said as he took a seat on the couch, shaking his head before sinking his teeth into his sandwich. As we ate, the silence was broken only by the occasional slurp to catch an escaping onion shred as we both absently watched the Knicks battle it out with the Bulls on TV. Before halftime, I felt myself slipping into a happy food coma.

I woke up to snapping fingers and a woman’s voice. “Ryan, hey! Wake up! It’s six. I have to get going.”

As I tried to pry my eyes open to find the voice, the slumber in my lids threatened to pull me back under.

“Come on, Ryan. Wake up? You with me?”

Still disoriented, I tried to focus, but my eyes betrayed me even though my nose was very much awake and dialed in to the smell of tomato sauce of some kind and more garlic.

“Is that spaghetti?” My throat was scratchy and my neck ached from falling asleep in my chair.

“Yes, it is. I packed up the rest of the sausage and peppers and par-boiled some pasta. All you boys have to do is warm it up in the microwave.”

“Good night guys. See you tomorrow.” Lydia called back as she headed out the door.