//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Physical Therapy // Story: Over Yonder // by theNDinspector //------------------------------// Hospitals are often seen as the setting of turning points in life and emotion in addition to a place of healing. These range from the unbridled joy at the miracle of birth to the bitter pain at the loss of a loved one and nearly everything in between. Ponyville General was no exception, serving as Ponyville’s major medical provider for decades. However, not everypony wished to go there. “No no no no NO!” Scootaloo shouted down the hallways. Nurse Redheart was struggling to push the wheelchair that the pegasus was strapped to since Scootaloo was pushing her hind legs against the floor. Still, the determined and surprisingly strong nurse managed to traverse most of the hospital despite the difficulty, but it was taking a toll on her. “I won’t do it!” Scootaloo yelled. “I’m a grown mare! You can’t make me!” A red pegaus, who had been following close behind, sighed and shook her head. Less than a week before, Needlepoint had to pick Scootaloo up from the Wonderbolt Academy after an accident that occurred due to her daughter’s overexertion on one of their training exercises. Thankfully, she hadn’t been killed, but Scootaloo was in no condition to fly for a while—which was why they were at the hospital in the first place. “Redheart, can you give us a moment please?” The panting nurse obliged and Needlepoint stepped in front of the wheelchair to face her daughter. Scootaloo was in a sorry state: her right forehoof was in a brace and held in a blue sling while her wings hanged loosely at her sides. All of the other scraps and bruises had either scabbed over or disappeared. Understandably, Scootaloo was in a foul mood due to her injuries, but this constant resistance was grating on Needlepoint’s nerves. “What is your problem?” Needlepoint asked sharply. “I’m not doing physical therapy,” Scootaloo stated, putting on her best pouty face, but Needlepoint wasn’t having any of it. “It’s supposed to help you get better, dear.” “That’s what you said last time, but I hurt even worse after that.” Needlepoint sighed, “It’s going to hurt more before you get better. If you want to go back to the Wonderbolt Academy then you must do this. Besides, you haven’t even experienced foaling yet.” Scootaloo looked up to her mother skeptically. “Seriously Mom? That’s something completely different. And I thought that you didn’t want me to go back to the Wonderbolts.” Needlepoint scowled at her daughter. “You’re right, I don’t. But you wanted to continue with it and I said that I would support you. But if you keep acting like this, then I might just change my mind.” She gritted her teeth and let out a snort to emphasize her point. “Besides, you need to do this therapy if you even want to fly again. Do you understand me young lady?” Scootaloo folded her forhooves as best as she could and looked a way for a moment, still frowning. “Fine.” “Good. Now take your hooves off the floor so we can make it to your appointment!” Reluctantly, Scootaloo lifted her hooves onto the hoofrest. Nurse Redheart returned from the nearby bench she’d been resting at and resumed pushing the wheelchair through the hallway. Though Scootaloo didn’t push back this time, she was still fuming and apprehensive for the painful ordeal still to come. *** “Good morning Scootaloo,” a tan colored mare unicorn said as they entered the therapy room right next to a gym. “Morning Dr. Fitness,” Scootaloo replied half-heartedly. Nurse Redheart helped Scootaloo onto a padded examination table for her to lie on while Needlepoint took a seat at the other end of the room. Like the rest of the hospital, this room was spotlessly clean with a slight smell of disinfectant everywhere, but also the smell of metal weights of various equipment of the gym next door. “So how are we doing today?” Dr. Fitness asked as she consulted her clipboard and Nurse Redheart took Scootaloo’s vitals. “All right, I guess,” Scootaloo answered. “I see, have you been doing the exercises I instructed you on last time?” Before Scootaloo even opened her mouth to respond, Needlepoint blurted out, “Nope.” “MOM!” “What?” Needlepoint shrugged. “Somepony’s got to tell the truth.” Scootaloo glared at her mother, who maintained her blank face in return. Scootaloo knew that she meant well, but that didn’t make it any less annoying for her to interfere with personal matters. Dr. Fitness sighed, “I really wish you had, because it’s only going to make this a lot harder on you and your recovery if you don’t.” “Just get on with it.” Scootaloo grasped the edges of the table, bracing herself. On cue, Dr. Fitness came up to the table and put her forehooves on Scootaloo’s back. A piercing sensation tore through Scootaloo’s tender muscles as the doctor massaged her back. Scootaloo bit her lip as she felt her stiff wings being stretched and moved against their own accord. It took all her will power to keep herself from screaming. Instead, she focused on the rustling of her feathers rubbing against each other—a sound that she had not heard for nearly a week. Soon, it was over, although it felt like an eternity for Scootaloo. She sat up on the table and was pleased that she currently had near-complete flexibility in her wings without too much pain. “Okay,” Dr. Fitness said as she helped Scootaloo off the table and into the wheelchair before pushing her into the other room. “Now we can move on to some strengthening exercises.” Scootaloo looked back at the doctor, “You mean like some wing push-ups or something?” Dr. Fitness shook her head. “No, it’s still too early for that, but we will work on your wings as much as possible.” They stopped in front of a weight-lifting machine that Scootaloo often saw in gyms. It was designed with a pulley system and a series of block weights stacked on each other and a small pin that was put into the desired block to indicate how much weight was being lifted. At the other end of the pulley-line, Dr. Fitness attached a couple of straps and fitted them onto Scootaloo’s wings. Then using her magic, the doctor put the pin into the very top block. “That’s like no weight at all,” Scootaloo commented. “I know, but it’s going to be a lot harder to pull than you think,” Dr. Fitness replied. “Now, I want you to move your wings back n’ forth slowly and gently. I’ll be right here behind you.” “Okay,” Scootaloo said raising an eyebrow and then started pulling her wings forward. Despite lifting only about two-and-a-half pounds of weight, the pulley barely moved at all. Concentrating, she managed to pull her wings as far forward as they would go and then released—letting the weight fall with a loud, metallic clang. The sudden movements caused another surge of pain to course down her wings and through her back. “AAAAAGH!” Dr. Fitness immediately removed the straps and started massaging Scootaloo’s throbbing wings. “I told you do it slowly!” Scootaloo bit her lip and was too busy fighting back tears to reply immediately. As pain subsided, she managed to take a few shaky breaths, “I…c-couldn’t…hold it.” “Then let me know when you’re struggling,” Dr. Fitness rebuked. “The last thing we want is to injure you further. I can help you, but you need to do most of the work yourself. And never drop my weights again!” Scootaloo simply nodded as the doctor continued to rub her wings. Once the pain was all but gone, the straps were reapplied and Scootaloo started to pull the weights again—this time being spotted by the therapist. She managed to do five repetitions before being unable to pull anymore. After removing the straps, Dr. Fitness put some cool packs onto Scootaloo’s wings and then grabbed some pills. “Now take some of these,” Dr. Fitness said, also levitating over a cup of water, only to have Scootaloo scrunch her nose and turn her head away. “Listen, we’re dealing with a lot of muscle tissue damage here.” Dr. Fitness levitated over a piece of paper and drew two lines on it: one the entire length of the paper, and the other only a couple of inches. Indicating to the longer one first, “You’re going to hurt about this much.” She then pointed to the smaller line, “these pills will only help about this much, but it can mean a lot in being able to move around comfortably. Don’t be a hero.” “Fine,” Scootaloo relented and took the pills and drained the cup. “Good. Now be sure to do those exercises I taught you and move your wings as much as you can. That way you might be able to recover quicker.” “All right.” Scootaloo got back into the wheelchair and was moved back to the therapy room, where her mother was waiting with a smug smile on her face. “See, I told you it wasn’t as bad as foaling,” she smirked “Shut up Mom.”