“Hey, I’m back,” I said.
Morgana startled, then sighed. “You gave me a heart attack. I didn’t hear you come in. How was it?”
“The food was great. We’ll have to go there sometime. Definitely worth the cheat day.”
“Great to know, but I wasn’t referring to the food. I want to know about the company. How was he? Are you seeing him again?” Morgana rattled off her questions rapidly.
I was about to reply when the door opened, and my next patient walked in. I greeted her and said I’d be with her shortly before I walked away. Morgana hissed softly.
“We’ll talk later.”
I knew she wouldn’t forget. And I didn’t mind. She was both a friend and my employee. I had three chiropractic assistants, with whom I got along very well. But they weren’t friends like Morgana.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, used the toilet, and washed my hands before I went to my office. When I was told which room to go to, I rose from my desk and went. This patient was a regular. Mrs. Irma Washington came to see me every other week. She had arthritis and chronic migraines. Irma swore that the only thing that kept her mobile and her migraines under control was me. I’d tried to deny it, but she refused to hear it. I knew I helped, but the medications she took had a part in it, too.
“Oh, Anastasia, that feels incredible, as always,” Irma sighed when I was finished. I had moist heat compresses on her neck and the major joints she complained the most about hurting.
“I’m glad. Did your doctor change your medication as we talked about last time?” I asked, washing my hands.
“He didn’t. Said he wanted to give the old stuff time to work. It’s been four months. If it were going to happen, it would’ve,” Irma muttered.
I agreed with her. Approaching it delicately, since I didn’t want to overstep, I offered her a recommendation.
“You know, you are entitled to a second opinion if you want. Maybe someone else has a different idea on how to treat you.”
The reason I said anything was that I’d been hearing how this doctor not only treated Irma but also a few of my other patients who had been seeing him for the past two years. My personal opinion, which I didn’t share with patients, was that the doctor was old-fashioned and refused to keep up with current treatment options. He didn’t like chiropractors. He refused to refer to us and called what we did quack medicine. I removed the hot compresses and then helped her to sit up. Irma nodded as she sighed.
“I believe you’re right, my dear. I’ve wasted enough time on him. As always, it’s a delight to see you, and for more than the pain relief. I’ll let you know how it goes at our next session.”
“I can’t wait. Take care.”
I walked her to the front. If I had time, I preferred to hand my patients off to Morgana. When Irma was happily chatting away, I went back to my office—the rest of the day passed quickly—nothing out of the ordinary. By the time the last patients left, I knew I had paperwork and a conversation to finish. I minded neither.
I settled behind my desk and, while I waited for Morgana to come for her answers, I worked on my charting. I tried to do it between sessions whenever possible, but it wasn’t always feasible. I said goodbye to my assistants as they left for the day. At a quarter after five, Morgana walked into my office. She gave me the look. One I knew well.
She sat across from my desk as she said. “Spill, Stasia. How did the lunch go? And I don’t mean did you like the food, though that is a plus.”
“It went really well. Sam and I talked comfortably and found out a lot more about each other. And…I agreed to go out with him again.”
She let out a squeal and then urged me on. “Tell me more.”
So that’s what I did. I tried not to get ahead of myself, but it felt good for once to look forward to getting to know someone. And even better to contemplate the possibility of potential there.
Sinner: Chapter 3
I rested back in my office chair. My body hurt all over, but especially my back. I knew the cause. I cursed every time I thought of the reason. It had been a stupid fluke, but those happened.
I knew I was fortunate that it hadn’t been worse than it was. Rather than tweaking the hell out of my back, I could’ve been in the hospital or worse, dead. Over the weekend, we’d gotten a call about an emergency in a mine in rural West Virginia. Not something we typically handled, but it wasn’t the first either. There had been a collapse, and miners trapped there had to be brought out via a series of vertical access shafts. The access shafts were little more than reinforced holes along the main mine line. There were no stairs at those locations. And some of the men were injured and unable to climb stairs if they had existed. My company went in to help with the rescues. I went with them. I felt the need for hands-on work. It had been too long.
Everything had been going like clockwork. Men had been pulled up one by one from the various accesses. We were almost finished. I’d gone down on the ropes to bring out the injured foreman, the last miner to bring out. He refused to be rescued until his men had been. As the other two were being lifted free, I’d gone to secure him. The opening was too small to bring a litter out of. Instead, I went down and secured him to a dual-harness setup that attached his body to mine.
It happened as we were almost to the top. The mine’s stability shifted again. More debris was displaced, raining down and collapsing inward. I heard the rumble and saw the rocks and soil between the reinforced supports move. I hollered for my team to bring us up faster. They did, but five feet from the opening, a large section of the wall gave way.
I saw it headed toward us. Automatically, I swung our bodies, placing my back to the oncoming debris avalanche. I shielded the already injured foreman from further harm. But I took the brunt of the impact on my back. Pain had blossomed. I ignored it and got the man out and into the ambulance.
My team demanded I get checked out. I refused. I knew nothing was broken. I’d had enough broken bones to know how those felt. I was only bruised and sore, I assured them. We’d finished up and we’d returned home. That was Saturday.
Yesterday, I woke up stiff and sore, sporting large bruises. I soaked in a hot bath, medicated with over-the-counter painkillers, and remained at home, resting. However, it was now Monday, a workday. I refused to stay in bed, even though I woke up stiffer and in more pain than the day before.
