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Prelude
Since arriving at the rehab center, they had kept sending him up and down the building. Evaluations. Safety checks. Short sessions. Back to his room. Back out again. Enough elevator rides that even going up had started to feel wrong.
That was only the admission week. Today was the first full day.
Sliding boards. Pivot trials. Standing practice with the parallel bars. Dressing. Toileting. Breaks that left him just as tired. By now his arms were strained and his back was tight. But he liked the routine and structure. He could work with that.
Therapy was different though. Lucy wanted this, and he was doing it for her. He didn’t believe it anyway, and the hospital version had already taught him what to expect.
Matt rolled inside the office and stopped.
A Final Fantasy IX poster hung on the wall. Zidane and Dagger.
“You must be Matt. I’m Dr. Kyle Williams, but ‘Kyle’ is fine. Doctor makes me feel old.”
The guy at the desk was wearing a T-shirt with the phrase I’m Just Here for the Side Quests.
“My little brother has that shirt. He’s nineteen. Good thing you led with doctor.”
“Let me guess. You’re already judging the poster.”
“You’re really leading with Final Fantasy?”
“Huh. I wasn’t expecting firefighters to know their RPGs.”
“I know my games. But this feels… odd for a doctor’s office.”
“I also didn’t expect firefighters to care this much about appearances. Final Fantasy 9, though? What a masterpiece.”
“At least it’s not Seven.” Matt snorted.
“God, no. Cloud spends the whole game moping about who he is. At some point, just get over yourself.”
“And Aerith? That only works if the game did more with her first.”
“Exactly. Nine gives you Vivi and actually earns it.”
“You want earned? That’s Four. Cecil’s redemption arc alone puts it over Nine.”
“Oh. You’re an FF4 guy.”
“Somebody has to like a game that commits.”
“Nine has a heart, Matt. It’s about the journey. Four just hits you over the head with the drama.”
“Yeah, well, maybe Nine needs to hit a little harder.”
“You know, I’d love to keep arguing with you about Final Fantasy, but I should probably do my job.”
“Good for you. Some of us don’t get to do that anymore.”
“Then let’s talk about what’s making this harder than it has to be. This elevator thing. It’s in your file, and it’s something we have to tackle. You’re in a wheelchair now, Matt. You can’t afford to keep running from this. So where are you at with it?”
“I’m managing.”
“Are you? You can’t take the stairs, Matt. Elevators are part of your reality now. You have to face this.”
“What’s there to talk about? I get in an elevator, my brain flips out, and I feel like I’m falling. Not exactly complicated.”
“Fair. And you’ve been using stuff to get through it. Distractions, duct tape squares. I also hear you’ve got a habit of hitting the alarm button.”
“And?” Matt frowned.
“No judgment,” Kyle said. “Honestly, I think it’s genius. Chaos to fight chaos. It’s bold. But I’ve got something that might feel a little less… public.”
“Like what?”
“Right now, you’re trying to fight the panic after it starts. What if we hit it before it hits you?”
“Good thing I have a nasty right cross.”
“I’m sure it’ll come in handy. No, we prep your brain before it has a chance to spiral. Instead of waiting for it to knock you flat, let’s give it something else to do.”
Kyle grabbed a notepad, scribbled something quickly, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Matt.
“Breathing ladder,” he explained. “Before you even get in the elevator, start this. Breathe in for three seconds, hold for three seconds, and out for three seconds. Do it again, but bump it up to four. Then five. Keep going until you’re in the elevator and it’s moving.”
“That’s it? Just breathing?”
“Let me ask you something, Matt. How do you take out a fire?”
“You’re really asking me that?”
“Hey, you’re the expert.”
“Depends on the fire.”
“Sure. But say it’s spreading. What’s the goal?”
“…Containment.”
“Right. You stop it from spreading. You control what you can control. That’s what this does. You’re not putting the whole thing out at once, but you’re stopping it from taking over.”
He hated that it made sense.
“Should I have dispatch send me an engine?”
“Helps to get water on it before it runs the room.”
It can’t get stupider than Ben’s solution.
“Unless it’s sodium, sure,” Matt said, tucking the note in his pocket.
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