The next day I woke up and quickly got ready for my outpatient rehabilitation. I was referred to occupational therapy, twice a week for four weeks, after being discharged. My therapist is supposed to give me the ‘clear’ to drive and return to work. So for now I’m stuck with the alternatives for commuting. Typically, physical therapy would be done as well, but by some ‘miracle’, I had full mobility and was able to do all my self-care by the end of my hospital stay. The doctors were astonished and had me repeat scans multiple times. I had to beg to leave the hospital during my last week there.

I stepped out of my room and raced straight to the refrigerator. Gosh, I’m starving. I grab a half used avocado and make myself a toast. Billy is at work this morning so I have to call an Uber to go to the rehab center. I plug in the address on phone maps. “Great! Only 15 minutes away.”

The driver pulls up to our destination. It is located on the first floor of a red brick residential building. I immediately notice the Deli next door, the name reading ‘Lettuce Feed You’.

“Hah.”

I walk into the rehab center and am met with a young woman at the front desk. If she heard me come in, she sure didn’t acknowledge my presence. I clear my throat, “Hi! I’m here for my OT appointment at 9:15.” The brunette with exceptionally large lips looks at the clock on the wall and continues her gaze back to me. I look at the time. 9:21. I look back at the woman and smile uncomfortably. Just as I was about to bolt the fuck out of there, a tall, lean male walks up to us. He introduces himself, “Hey there! My name is Don Fiore, but everyone calls me Donny. You must be Nisa,” he stretches out his hand for a shake. I feel an instant decompression in my shoulders. I extend my hand to his, “Hi. Yeah. So sorry that I’m late!.” I don’t fail to notice his firm, large hands as our palms part ways. He gestures for me to follow him. “That’s no issue at all. Glad you made it,” Don continues, “Let’s head over to my office.” I smile and follow his lead. We pass through a large room, a common area for a combination of patients each doing their own treatments. We sit down and have a discussion where Don assesses and evaluates me to determine goals for my treatment moving forward.

I explain to Don my post-surgery experience with my spasms in my right hand. I let him know how I occasionally drop random things on accident. Donny starts the treatment by first assessing my full body to test range of motion and strength. We finish off by focusing on my weaker areas by doing some low-weight-bearing exercises.

“That was an exellent first session” says Donny. He continues as we walk, “I can tell these next 4 weeks are going to be a breeze.” He places his hand on my lower back as he guides me towards the exit. I feel a jolt pulsate through me when he does that. Although we just met, I feel a sense of comfort near this guy.

“Thank you for today Don- Donny,” I smile, “I’ll be back on…” I fumble to check my phone for the next appointment date.

“Thursday,” Don says, completing my thought.

“Yes! Thursday!” We shake hands and I proceed to exit the rehabiliation center straight into the Deli next door.