About Kismet

27

Tuesday, April 16 2019

Kismet speed-walked towards the designated room for her next scheduled session.

She had received an updated schedule from Oliver on Monday. Nearly everything remained the same, conveniently. The only notable difference was the patient who had replaced Mathew— contradicting the words Kismet had used to assure him several nights prior.

The patient's name was Micah Alexander— he was a young army sergeant who suffered severe injuries during the time he was last deployed.

She had had a meeting with Oliver and another official regarding the patient and the appropriate ways to care for and manage him during the physiotherapy earlier this morning. She was also required to complete a continuing education course that she was enrolled in beforehand, prior to the physiotherapy sessions.

It was necessary because the patient suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and doctors noted he was a difficult patient.

Kismet grasped his file under her arm, walking into the familiar room. She checked her watch as she entered, glad she was several minutes early.

Like most cases, this first session was informational— they would do a physical checkup, preliminary questions and concerns, areas of focus, etc. Then, the following session they would begin his physiotherapy.

With her back turned to the door, Kismet wasn't aware of the man entering the room until he cleared his throat.

She whipped her head around, straightening up. The man was tall—around Wesley's height, she noticed—and broad too. His face was not expressive, and there were dark tattoos peeking out from beneath the collar of his sweater.

She gave him a small smile. "Micah Alexander? I'm your physiotherapist," she introduced, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He nodded, stepping forward with the help of his crutch. His larger, tattooed hand grasped hers gently, shaking it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor," he greeted.

His voice was a deep baritone, as Kismet had predicted it would be. He didn't return her smile.

She stepped back from him, leading him towards a stool. "Here, take a seat. And please, call me Kismet."

He complied with her first order, taking a moment to get comfortable on the seat, leaning his crutch against the wall next to him. Then, his eyes met hers. "I'll call you Doctor. You can call me Xander," he suggested instead.

She smiled again. "Okay, Xander. I have a few questions for you," she began.

—

Kismet learned that Micah was discharged from the United States Armed Forces several months ago, after being injured. He didn't elaborate, only shortly answering her when she inquired.

Unfortunately, his medical reports provided the information he chose to protect; the extent of his surgeries describing the severity of his injuries.

Through the reports, she had also learned that he had dual citizenship, and after the initial few surgeries in the United States, he was transferred to Canada for further treatment.

Unknown to Kismet, Micah observed her as she asked the routine questions. He felt comforted in her presence, not on alert as he had among other physicians and medical experts. Perhaps it was the normalcy with which she treated him, or that she didn't show signs of discomfort or unease around him.

Regardless, he was grateful.

"So I'll see you Thursday," Kismet said, glancing at her timetable to confirm. "We'll begin your physical therapy then," she continued, passing him his crutch.