Panthera Spelaea

My life vastly improved when the handcuffs came off.

Svetlana came in after my visitors left, and she had a television remote in her hand. “Thank God,” I said as I took it from her. “I was going stir crazy in here.”

“I’m going to take something else away, and it will be a bit uncomfortable, but you’ll be glad when it is gone.” She put on gloves and pulled the sheets down to expose my junk. “You might feel a burning sensation when I remove your catheter.”

I hoped she did it quickly before my body responded to her. It wasn’t comfortable getting a hard-on with a tube stuck up it, but I’d proven I could do it. Svetlana was professional about it, deflating the balloon then removing it in one smooth pull. The burning pain was over quickly, leaving behind a dull burning ache. I let out a sigh of relief as she cleaned up everything. “It will get better after you’ve urinated a few times,” she told me. “If it becomes inflamed or doesn’t improve, let the nurses know because an infection is a potential side-effect of prolonged catheterization.”

“I don’t know if I can get out of bed and go to the bathroom right now,” I responded.

She just smiled. “Yulia will be here in a few minutes to help you walk around again.”

“Yay?”

“She is doing her job, John. Your body needs to move around to heal.” The doctors didn’t know how the soft tissues in my body became so damaged. X-rays showed nothing abnormal, and I couldn’t remember anything.

Yulia arrived as Svetlana was finishing up and started putting me through my afternoon torture session. We spent the first fifteen minutes moving things around in bed before she helped me sit up and get my legs over the edge of the table. She put a strap around my chest, which helped stabilize me as she moved me to stand on my feet. It felt weird; the bones were there, but the muscles protested their use. It took me five minutes to get to my doorway and get my first look outside my room.

Svetlana was at the nurse station, talking with one of the doctors. She smiled as she saw me moving slowly along the wall. Things got better as I moved, and soon I was up to “old man with a cane” speed. By the time I got back into bed, my body was sore and exhausted. I rested that evening, catching up on international news. It included a four-minute segment on the Siberian murders, focusing on the court hearing today that got me out of police custody. Nicole’s husband made a brief appearance, making an impassioned plea for justice. He wanted me in jail.

The doctors released me after rounds in the morning. My Mom came in to get me and sat with me as the doctors went over their discharge instructions. “It is important for your recovery that you keep active,” he told me. “Your mother has arranged for a physical therapist to come to your hotel room twice a day.”

I walked out of the hospital, disappointed not to see Svetlana as it was her off day. Mom took me to the Doubletree-Moscow Marina airport where she had been staying. It was a twelve-minute drive from the hospital, on the other side of the canal to the northeast. She helped me for two days before she had to fly home. “What are you going to do to keep busy, baby?”

“I’m here for a while, so I’m going to learn about Russia,” I said. “I’m in a city famous for its art and culture, and I need to learn the language.” So that is what I did after she left. I bought a computer course on the Russian language for the laptop Mom got me. I was spending eight-plus hours a day on it, in between physical therapy and workouts.

My body was recovering nicely with the activity. I started out swimming in the morning and using the gym machines during dinner. A few of the guests and staff recognized me from the news coverage, but no one accosted me. The hotel staff was discreet, and most people didn’t care. My therapist taught me exercises to do in the pool to increase my flexibility, and I’d walk on the treadmill.

I treated my time in the hotel as Russian language immersion. I no longer listened to Western stations; the television was on Russian news, sports, and entertainment. No matter how bad my Russian was, I would eat in the restaurant and sit at the bar to practice with live people. After two weeks in the hotel, I was getting a bit stir crazy.

I called the number for my bodyguard/driver and went shopping. Aleksey showed up an hour later. The first place we stopped was a barber; with a fresh shave and a much shorter haircut, I looked like a new man. We picked up new clothes and some food for the hotel room and headed back without incident.

When we got back to the hotel, I asked him about going jogging. Was it safe? Did I need a bodyguard to do it?

Yes, and yes. The summer days could be hot, so he told me he’d be in the lobby at six, and we’d go running.

Getting out for a run was SO liberating for me. I’d always been active in sports, playing soccer, basketball, and lacrosse in high school. I wasn’t good enough at the college level, but I kept myself in shape by running and outdoor sports. “I don’t think I’ll have much stamina, but I’d like to see the area,” I said. I used Russian when I could, English when I had to.

We started at a slow pace, heading towards the canal and then turning left towards Pokrovskoye-Streshnevo Park. “There are tons of trails and ponds here, and it’s relatively quiet. The Moscow Running Club is on the east end, so you’ll have plenty of company on the trails. With so many paths to choose from, you can make short runs or long and never get far from the hotel.”

“How is it at night?”

“In a group, fine. Crime around here isn’t high, but there are so many hiding places that it’s not a good idea to be out here alone.”

We didn’t push it, jogging for a few miles, then taking a break by Tretly Ivan-Kovskiy pond. “We’ll walk back,” I told him.

After he left, I got dressed and went downstairs to eat, then moved into the bar to watch soccer. I was sitting at the end of the bar with a beer when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “John?”

I turned around and smiled. She must have come here straight from work. “привет светлана, как ты сегодня вечером?” (Hello, Svetlana. How are you doing tonight?)

“я скучаю по тебе. I missed you, John.”

“I missed you too, Svetlana. Sit with me?” I grabbed my beer and offered my arm. The girl of my dreams took it, and I led her to a booth.