I wanted to scream out to my Dad, just a few feet away, absorbed in the football game. I tried hard. I managed a small sound.

In a cruel twist of fate, Dad jumped up and cheered.

I wished vainly that the cheer could have been for me. If I could have, I’d have moved my leg and kicked him in the back of the head when he sat down again.

I tried a toe instead. I strained, I willed my toes to move, but no luck. I took a moment to rest, conserve some energy for my next attempt.

Mom entered. “Are you monopolizing the TV, dear?” she accused. She sat by me. On the opposite side from the pinkie that I knew worked. I tried the one nearest her.

She happened to glance down at the right moment.

“Oh my God! He moved his pinkie! Tony!! Did you do that?” She looked into my eyes. I blinked.

“Nurse! Nurse!” She screamed in excitement, calling the dutiful, watchful nurse in. “He moved! It’s a miracle! Do it again, honey!”

“Yeah!” cheered Dad for the game. Mom gave him a look.

“Swelling must be going down.” Nurse said.