X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 4

"Tell me when you feel a dull or sharp sensation," Katherine said, "even if it's abnormal."

Charles kept his vision ahead. Behind him, he knew Katherine was lifting his right leg; he could feel the weight shift in his upper body. And he knew what the sensory assessment exam would entail. The cotton swab she'd touch to his skin was for light sensation and the safety pin for the pain assessment.

But he couldn't feel her hands on his skin; he couldn't feel the sensation of the test.

He closed his eyes. He concentrated.

He waited.

Several minutes passed. At some point, Katherine had switched from his right leg to his left but the results were the same. He remained silent.

It wasn't until she reached the arch of his back that he sensed anything. Just below the scar from the gun shot wound, he felt pressure.

"There," he said.

"Sharp or dull?" Katherine asked.

"I don't know—simply pressure, I suppose."

She glided further up. The higher she went, the more real the sensation. Directly at the gun shot wound, he felt the prick. A needle, lightly poking his back. He groaned.

"There?" Katherine asked.

Charles gave a nod.

She continued the sensation assessment. After several more minutes, Charles rolled over and Katherine checked the rest of his lower body. As she finished, she peeled off her gloves and then retrieved a pen from her jacket pocket.

"We're done here," Katherine said as she jotted something down in his chart. "If you have a few minutes, I'd like to discuss a couple things with you in my office."

"Of course."

"Do you need help dressing?

"No."

"Transferring to your wheelchair?"

"I can handle it, thank you."

"Then I'll meet with you when you're done."

Pocketing her pen, Katherine snatched up all her things and headed for the door. Pitching the cotton swab, gloves and safety pin into a trash can, she was off, not looking back as Charles placed a hand to his wheelchair beside him and began scooting himself towards it on the mat.

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The entrance to Katherine Boggs' office was wider than most and the door was a light-weight pine. Rolling his wheelchair through and shutting the door, Charles approached Katherine's desk. A couple chairs lined the walls, intentionally moved aside for the disabled patients like him. On the opposite side of the desk, Katherine sat, reading his medical chart like she was studying for an exam.

In his wheelchair, Charles laced his fingers together, and dropped his hands to his lap.

"First," Katherine began as she finally peeked up, "do you have any new issues that have arisen since our last meeting?"

Charles cleared his throat. "No. None that I'm aware of."

"Are you still experiencing pain in your back?"

"It flares up at times, yes."

"Enough to hinder your daily activities?"

"Not typically."

The woman wrote something in his chart—scribble-scribble-scribble. "I know you started using the intermittent catheters about eight weeks ago," she went on. "How are those working out for you?"