Page 27 of Saving Grace
Dr. Lindsey’s expression says it all. “You’ve exhausted every non-surgical option, Drew. You’ll be back in my operating room within the next six months if this”—she motions to my left side—“doesn’t get the rest it needs.”
“So, realistically, what are my options?” I can’t keep my frustration from seeping into my voice. I’d finally been cleared by my physical therapist to go back to my daily activities. Those activities include boxing and training horses. Can I live without the boxing? Probably. I’d miss it, but I can find other avenues for stress release.
She sighs. “Ice often, immobilize it whenever you’re out and about. I will offer you one, and only one, cortisol shot, but you’ll have to agree to take it easy for a few days.” She holds a hand up before I have a chance to interrupt her. “Non-negotiable. If I do this, you ice like crazy and wear your brace for the next three days. No boxing, no training rides. If you can’t do it comfortably in a brace, you are to avoid it. Got me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble as I try my best to remember where I threw my sling-like shoulder brace the other day. Dr. Lindsey walks out the door, letting me know a tech will prep the shot. I breathe in, trying to cleanse my body of any extra tension as the door closes while fighting the stress that builds with every passing moment.
I slip my phone from my pocket and open my messages, studying the names that sit at the top of my text app. With an unsteady hand, I tap the third name then type out a text and hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Drew: Doc says no gym or rides 3 days.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes with a reply, my brother’s name filling the notification bubble.
Declan: I’ll be out front.
Several minutes pass before a tech with graying hair and laugh lines walks in with a needle and syringe, and my insides draw up tight at the sight of it. That’s one big-ass needle.
“Hey, sweetie, my name’s Tris.” She starts simple chatter as she gathers a prep pad and Band-Aid before making her way to my injured shoulder. “We’ve mixed the cortisone with a numbing agent, so you should feel at least a little relief pretty quick.” She lifts the back hem of my shirt over my shoulder. “Hold this in place, hun.”
I move my right hand to hold the shirt out of her way as she swipes the alcohol wipe over my shoulder.
“You’re going to feel a pinch and maybe some burning. Deep breath.”
I’ve barely sucked in any oxygen when the needle hits home. My jaw clenches as any air that had been in my lungs rushes right back out. “Warning would’a been nice,” I grumble as I try my best to keep still. Whatever is in the syringe burns as it settles.
“If I’d warned ya, you would’ve tensed.”
“Valid point.”
A quick knock on the door sounds before Dr. Lindsey sticks her head back inside as Tris disposes of her supplies. “Do I need to call your father and tell him your orders, or can I trust you to follow directions this time?”
“I followed directions last time. I did the physical therapy. PT cleared me to go back to work.” A lot of good it did me.
Dr. Lindsey cuts her eyes at me, and I sigh, utterly defeated by a nearly year-old injury.
“Be boring for three days. Got it,” I deadpan.
Dr. Lindsey can’t quite keep the grin from tugging up her lips. “Quit being smart, boy. I’ll call your entire support system if I need to.”
“Really, I’ve got it,” I promise as I stand from the exam table. “I already texted Declan, anyway.”
“You’ve got an entire town that cares about you. And, from what I’ve heard through the gossipy grapevine, it’s grown by three recently,” she says as I walk out the door. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walk out the front door of the physician’s building to greet Declan on the sidewalk. I know what his text said, but I’m still surprised to find him right outside the doors waiting on a bench.
“What do you need from me, little brother?” he asks. There is no irritation from our earlier conversation, noI told you soon the shoulder problem. Justwhat do you need?like how it used to be between us.
My lip curls upward at the thought, but I can’t hold on to it. “I need an outlet since both of mine were just ripped away for three days, and I need something to keep me busy so I don’t annoy Leila all afternoon. You decide.”
We head across the street to the middle of the square. We’re actually standing under Declan and Kristen’s tree where their engagement photos were taken. The magnolia tree is over one hundred years old and a favorite for picnics and pictures of milestones like graduation.
“So, aside from what you texted me, what other rules did she give you?” asks my brother.
“Lots of ice and wear my brace.”
“Should we go back to your place and get it?”
