‘I gather there’s not much hope’ br you sighed this morning, br all boggy and sad. br br Till we met Kirsty, br fine physiotherapist, br who took your ‘crippled’ hand in hers br and worked it br gently br intently br like a sculptor br molding a masterpiece. br br And little by little br your sleepy muscles br opened their eyes. br br ‘I think she’s kidding…’ br but you knew she wasn’t. br br And when she told you br you could walk br without the frame, br you didn’t believe her. br Till you tried br and you did br and you cried. br And so did I. br br And tonight, br the psychologist br called Diane br (sixty something br with a kind face br and the grace br of a saint) br said simply: br br ‘You don’t honestly imagine they’d bother with all this rehab br if they didn’t think you were worth it, do you? Do you realize, br you’re costing the government over $500 a day - br And that’s just for the bed? ’ br br No prayers. br No promises. br No bullshit. br br And you believed her.