Page 75 of The Last Love Story
“Whoa, that’s so weird.”
“Is that normal?” Justin asks.
The PA nods. “Yep. Muscle mass decreases quickly when there’s minimal use. But that’s what PT is for. They’ll help regain that strength, and it looks like you’ll have some OT for fine motor skills as well. It takes time, but a good chunk of that hand strength will return over the next couple of months, as long as you’re working at it.”
“Oh, I will be. I’ve got worlds to dive back into.”
The PA looks confused, and Justin jumps in. “She’s an author.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure the physical therapist will encourage you to get back to typing sooner than later because it’s good for blood flow and strengthening, and it’ll help with range of motion, but they’ll set guidelines and limits when you see them. Now, for the most important question. Any pain when you move your fingers or your wrist?”
I move them the minimal amount I can, my eyes getting a bit watery when I don’t feel any pain.
“No. Nothing.”
“Good. The hope is that will continue to be the case and we’ll consider you fully healed. Time will tell, but that’s the outcome for the majority of people. Follow all the instructions you get and don’t overdo things, and I think you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Any other questions?”
I shake my head, happiness flooding me. I finally feel like I’m on the upswing. It never really hit home that the whole point of this was to be pain free. I’d had some form of pain for so long, I couldn’t conceive what it would be like to not have any. Now this is all starting to feel worth it.
“No. I think I’m good.”
He gives me a few more instructions—like still wearing the sling as needed to help keep my hand elevated—then I’m free to go.
As we walk out of the office, Justin takes my hand, and my heart lights at the unlikelihood of it all. A little over a month ago, I left the office in tears, afraid I might lose a piece—if not all—of my career from this. I was with my dad, but beyond him, I felt very alone, especially when it came to managing all this.
Now my husband is by my side and has been through every moment. The way he’s cared for me made every step of this process so much easier to deal with.
The husband part might only be legal, but this doesn’t feel fake anymore. My heart flutters as it tries to convince me… maybe this never was.
After coffeeand a little shopping trip to celebrate and get me some better fitting headphones for recording, we’re at my dad’s house for dinner.
“Papa Jackson, what smells delicious in here?”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a simple casserole. It’s called Hungry Jack.”
“Oh my gosh. We haven’t had that in forever. I need the recipe. It’s so good.” I look at Justin. “Baked beansand sautéed ground meat and onions with barbecue sauce, then topped with cheddar biscuits. It’s delicious.”
“I also made a tossed salad with homemade Italian dressing. And I might’ve made some peanut butter pie.”
“With the Oreo crust?” I smile as he nods. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Well, we’re celebrating. Your arm is free and you’re recovering… you look happy, honey.”
“That she does,” Justin says, his handsome smile twisting up my insides.
My gaze goes from Justin, who is at the fridge getting drinks, to my dad. “I am happy.”
Happier than I realized.
God, I hope I get to keep it.
“You’re goingto let me do the dishes whether you like it or not. I swear, I’ll call Michelene and tell on you,” Justin says to my dad, referencing his girlfriend, who is having a ladies’ night with a few friends tonight.
“You’re a dictator,” my dad says to Justin, but I just laugh.
