Aris looked at his clipboard. According to the Barthel Index, Hiro Tanaka was a 25. A severe dependency.
“Teach me that,” Aris said.
Aris opened his mouth to defend the index— it’s objective, it’s standard, it predicts outcomes —but he closed it. Because Hiro was struggling to his feet again. Not with technique. With will. barthel indeks
“Failed,” Hiro whispered.
“Mr. Tanaka,” Aris began, pulling up a chair. “Let’s see how you’re doing. Can you feed yourself?” Aris looked at his clipboard
Hiro set his jaw. He pushed with his right arm, braced his right leg, and heaved. For a terrifying second, he hovered, a fragile pendulum of flesh and bone, then collapsed back onto the mattress. “Teach me that,” Aris said
He tallied the score. Twenty-five. Up ten points from admission. A clinical victory. A human catastrophe.