Unbreak My Heart (Strawberry Inn Book #4)

Chapter 4

ELIZABETH

I finished up my notes from my first appointment this morning and then grabbed the next file on the desk. Shay’s warning went through my head again as I looked over the chart to verify what I already knew. Mr. Dalton McCoy was a forty-one-year-old firefighter from Strawberry who had been injured during a rescue. Although he did require surgery after the accident, it was done arthroscopically and he was able to avoid getting a cast. He has been cleared for intensive physical therapy in the hopes of being cleared to resume his job.

I’ve worked with a lot of first responders over the years and I was not shocked by Shay’s information about his time spent in the hospital. They were all stubborn and snapped at medical professionals easily. If they were injured on the job, they usually carried some pent-up anger about it. Mr. McCoy seems to be no different. I’ve had some very tough clients over the years and I wasn’t that concerned about taking him on as a patient.

When I opened the door to the waiting room, there was only one person there and I assumed that it was Mr. McCoy. He was scrolling through his cell phone with a scowl on his face. “Mr. McCoy?” He looked up and then went to grab his crutches to stand up. I approached him, offering a helping hand.

“I got it,” he snapped at me. Gloria snickered from her spot at the front desk and we shared a knowing look. I have a feeling she received a similar rundown about this patient as I did.

“My name is Elizabeth Norton and I’m going to be handling your physical therapy treatments,” I said with a smile and my normally sunny disposition. This grumpy firefighter wasn’t going to bring my day down. “If you’d like to follow me, we’re going to head to my office to talk.”

“Talk?” He responded as we made our way through the halls of the therapy center. “Aren’t we supposed to be doing work to get my leg back in working condition?”

“We are,” I smiled over my shoulder at him. He was slow on the crutches, so I slowed my pace as well. “Before we get to the hard work, I like to sit down and talk to each of my clients so we can work out a plan.”

“I can tell you my plan,” he scoffed, “I plan on getting this shit done and over with so I can get back to work.”

We step into my office and I motion to the chair in front of my desk for him to sit at. Rather than sitting behind my desk, I sit in the second chair across from him and pull up his chart on my tablet. “That’s a great idea to have a final goal in mind, Mr. McCoy, but we have to figure out the right steps to get you there.”

“Dalton,” he finally corrected me, “Please call me, Dalton, Doc. Mr. McCoy makes me sound old.”

“Okay, Dalton, but I hate to be the one to break the news to you that once we hit our forties we’re officially in the old category,” I wink at him and the side of his mouth pulled up in the smallest grin. Maybe this guy wasn’t too bad after all. “While we’re talking names, I prefer to go by Elizabeth or Liz. I’m begging you not to call me Doc or Dr.”

He looks at the nameplate on my desk and tilts his head, “You’re a doctor though, right?”

“Contrary to popular belief, most physical therapists are not doctors, they are just highly trained in the field of physical therapy. I do happen to have my Ph.D. in the subject, but that makes me an academic doctor, not a medical one. Nothing against anybody with a Ph.D. that likes to go my doctor, but it isn’t my preference.”

“I see, so you want me to call you Elizabeth even though you worked your ass off for a deserving title?”

“Are you going to spend our entire time together insisting that you call me doctor?”

This time he didn’t just smile, Dalton actually laughed, “Hey, I’m not one to tell people what they should or shouldn’t go by. I’m just saying if I did all that work to get a degree that allowed me to put Doctor in front of my name, I’d refuse to answer to anything but that. I’d make my daughter call me Doctor Dad.”

It was then my turn to laugh, “I get what you’re saying. How about we agree that I won’t hold it against you if you call me doctor as long as you don’t hold it against me?”

Dalton nods, “I guess we can agree on that.”

“Great! So now let’s get down to the good stuff, I’ve looked over your chart, and with most injuries similar to yours, I usually plan for a sixteen-week recovery process.” He winces at the mention of time, “Is that not okay with you?”

“That would mean sixteen weeks before you would clear me for any training to return to work.”

“Yes, but you need to understand that you suffered a severe injury and if you’re not fully recovered and you return to work, you could end up hurting yourself again, and then what?”

Dalton runs his hands through his hair, “Doc…Sorry, Elizabeth, I have to get back to work,” he emphasized the “have” in his statement. “I’ve been on disability since the accident and it is killing me. I can’t wait another four months to get clearance. That could mean another month after that before I can get back to work.”

I exhale and bring the tablet pen to my lip, looking over my scheduled plan while thinking about what he said. Dalton is tapping his foot, anxious for my answer. “I’m not making any promises,” I glance up and see him smiling once again, “but if we meet three times a week instead of two and you do everything I tell you to while on your own, maybe we can shave a month off.”

“That’s still a bit disappointing, but I’ll take it. Can we start today?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had somebody so excited. You realize this is probably going to hurt, right?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing hurts more than not being able to properly care for my daughter and provide for her with my job and not a disability check. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be the best patient you’ve ever had.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dalton, are you sure you can make that promise?”

“Shit.”

“I’m just messing with you.” I smile at him and he sighs in relief. “I’ve worked with a lot of people over the years, including more fire responders than I can count. You’re all an exceptional breed. It makes you amazing at your jobs, but you suck at being vulnerable.”

“It certainly isn’t my strong suit,” he agrees. “I know I was an ass while I was staying here, but it was the first time I ended up in the hospital for a work-related injury and I didn’t take it well.”

“Certainly an understatement from what I heard,” I smirk. “But today is a new day, Dalton. I’m ready to start our first session if you are. Just a forewarning, you’re going to think everything is easy while we’re here and you’ll be tempted to push harder this week. Don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Great,” I clap my hands together and stand up, “Follow me to the therapy room and we’ll get started.”