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I step outside eventually, only to find Helen and Ian sharing a coffee while Hen is smirking at his phone.
I sit between Henrik and his parents, trying to decipher the million questions I have in mind.
“How’re you feeling, darling?” Helen asks me, patting my leg.
Does she mean physically or emotionally? Because deep down, I’m a wreck.
“I’m—better,” I tell her instead. Her son is newly paralyzed. The last thing she should care about are my needs.
She places her warm hand over mine, and the gesture brings many emotions out of me—as if I need this, a hand over mine, and I didn’t know it until now. I really need this small dose of compassion to get me through the rest of the day, the week, the month—and whatever time may bring.
“His surgeon, Dr. Kabera, told us that the rehab center we’re sending him to is one of the best in Chicago. She recommends Stefan McKleen as his physical therapist, and I trust her judgment.” She removes her hand from mine to sip on her coffee.
I nod again. I heard from Henrik that Harv will be going to Rethink Rehab and Physical Therapy Center as soon as he’s recovered from his surgeries since he’s passed the spinal shock period to gauge the level of his paralysis.
“Does... he have a chance of fully recovering?” I ask her, optimism swarming within my stomach. It’s a delicate question to ask; I don’t want her thinking I’d ever leave Harv if a recovery isn’t possible.
“Well, they’ve done the American Spinal Injury Association Impairment Scale test where they examined him post-injury,” Ian chips in.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I read about it online a bit.”
He continues, “He has some sensation from knee to foot in one leg, and some sensation higher up in the other leg.”
“Also, Gemma, he’s preserved anal sensation so far to control his bowel movements. Thank the Lord.” Helen looks up as if in prayer. “It’s one thing less for him to worry about.”
I exhale, and I feel myself relax a bit. Hearing about all these sensations gives me hope. Perhaps more will resurface with time and therapy.
Hen pockets his phone. “According to the hot doctor”—his mom glares at him—“anal sensation means he can still send and receive messages from the lower parts of his spinal cord which means... he should still be able to fuck.”
He gives me the biggest smile, and I hear Ian snicker as I turn beet red.
“OhHenrik, was that really necessary?” Helen presses before whispering to me. “The doctor told Harvey while I was present that for clients with incomplete spinal injuries, some sexual messages remain intact, which can allow for orgasms and erections.”
And ejaculation, I want to add. Google is your friend at a time like this.
“So if we wanted kids . . . one day . . .”
She nods. “There’s a high possibility for him to father children. And even if his fertility were affected, there’re several drugs, devices, and surgeries that may help down the road.”
I stare ahead, avoiding her kind gaze, taking it all in.
“That’s... great to hear.” I don’t know what else to tell her because what I wish to hear, truly hear, is that this is all a giant nightmare and that soon I’ll wake up and Harv and I will go for a bike ride and laugh our asses off once we reach a destination.
“Gia told me they think it’s an L1 or L2 injury?”
“Dr. Kabera said we’re most likely looking at an L2-level type of injury. Usually, patients become fully independent in day-to-day activities and with personal care and hygiene. Some may need walking braces or a wheelchair for long distances, but many can manage fairly well.”
“I needed to hear this,” I respond to her.
“One day at a time, Gemma,” Ian says, putting his and his wife’s empty coffee cups inside the trash nearby. “We’re all in this together.”
“If ever you need to talk—I’m here, Gem.” Hen places his arm around my shoulder.
“I’m here for you too, Henrik.” I stare at him, and he nods, taking in my words.
I’m glad I spoke to them. It changes nothing, but the news could’ve been worse than what it was. From the online research I’ve done, I know there are worse levels of injury. It doesn’t lessen the hardship Harvey will have to go through every single day, but hopefully he can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Once I step back into the room, I stare at Harv and wonder how much he’ll fight for this.
