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Show Nettie, Page 64 I will never sit in that thing," Nettie was adamant. "All right, child, all right. You must do what you think is best," and Papa yielded to her request that he move the chair away from the bed. The wheelchair was moved to a far corner of the room, and though it was still in sight, Nettie felt less threatened by its presence than before. For a long while Nettie continued to lay in her bed, her legs bent at sharp angles. Only with the most concentrated effort could she move her legs andthen only from side to side. Gradually she learned to push with her arms against the bed and swing both legs from one side to the next. The effort was exhausting but with the passage of time Nettie's arms grew less stiff and gradually they seemed to loosen and feel nearly normal. She was soon able to feed herself and could even reach her hands over her still bald head. With so much time to think, Nettie's head filled with thought after thought about walking again. Gradually it dawned on her that if her arms had lost their stiffness, why not her legs? She began feeling her legs, running her hands under her thighs, over the shortened and tight cords behind her knees which kept her legs bent at such an impossible angle. If she tried to straighten her legs the cords tightened even more and the pain brought beads of perspiration to Nettie's upper lip and brow. "Here is where they are tight, so here is where they must loosen. But how, how?" One day as Nettie lay thinking about how to loosen the tightness which kept her confined, she absent-mindedly reached up to her head to |