“You’ve been cheating on your protocol.”
“I’ve been following it exactly.”
“Your tissue says otherwise.” I increase pressure, feeling him tense. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.”
A pause. “Some pull-ups. Light weights.”
“Define light.”
“Thirty pounds.”
“Twenty-five pounds more than the five I prescribed.” I work deeper, feeling the new micro-tears. “You’re going to set yourself back.”
“It’s healing fine.”
“It was healing fine. Now you’ve got fresh damage on top of old.” I move to a different angle, attacking the problem from another direction. “This is exactly why you’ve had five dislocations. You don’t listen.”
“I listen. I just don’t always agree.”
“Agreement isn’t required. Medical compliance is.”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh or a grunt of pain. Hard to tell with the way I’m digging into muscle that’s fighting back.
My phone buzzes on the counter. I ignore it, focusing on the work.
It buzzes again. And again.
“You should check that,” Roman says, voice tight.
“I’m working.”
“It might be important.”
Another buzz. The insistent pattern of someone who needs an answer now.
“Fine.” I strip off my gloves, grab my phone.
Teresa
She’s asking for you
Getting confused about where you are
Can you call when you get a chance?
My stomach drops. I check the time. Only three thirty. Mom shouldn’t be confused yet. The evening is when things get bad, when the sundowning kicks in and she forgets what year it is.
I call Teresa, turning slightly away from the table.
“Sorry to bother you,” Teresa says immediately. “She’s fine, just having an earlier difficult patch today. Wants to know when you’re coming home.”
“Same as always. Six.”
“I know. I told her. But she’s forgotten already.” A pause. “Maybe come home a bit early if you can? She’s calmer when you’re here.”
