Page 19 of His First Baby Rodeo

MAC

“Well, everything’s looking good,” Mac’s doctor, Doctor Logan, said, pushing the stool back from the exam table. “You’re going to be out of that cast in no time. It’s always nice to see someone healing so quickly, Mr. Palmer — you’re a lucky one.”

“I know I am,” Mac agreed. He had always been quick to heal, but it was something he’d worried he might lose as he’d gotten older. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t the case. “What do I need to do? Anything?”

“Whatever you’re doing now seems to be working just fine for you, so keep it up. Lots of rest. Nothing crazy.”

Mac wasn’t about to admit that he had been riding every day with his new ranch hand. It was what he needed, he knew, and it was good for the spirit. But he also had a feeling his doctor might not approve.

“Do you know when I’ll be able to get this thing off? I mean, more specifically?” he asked, holding up his cast.

“It might be a little sooner than I’d originally speculated, but I can’t really say for sure just yet. We don’t want to rush it, right?” the doctor said. “Better to leave it on a little longer and make sure you’re fully healed than to try to take it off too soon.”

“I guess,” Mac said. “But I need to get back into my training regimen. I know I’ve lost a lot of strength in this arm already, and I want to start competing again as soon as I can.”

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Mac,” Dr. Logan said. “But in my professional opinion, it might be time for you to start thinking about retirement from that sport.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you were qualified to give professional opinions about rodeo, Dr. Logan.”

“My professional medical opinion,” the doctor amended. “I mean, you were seriously hurt in this accident. I know you’re trained to stay on a horse and to know how to take a fall without injury—”

“An injury can happen to anybody.”

“That’s right, but it can be a lot worse when the person in question is a little bit older, and I don’t want to see you back here after some really serious accident. You were lucky this time. You’re going to be able to walk away from it. But that won’t always be true.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Mac grumbled.

“This is a dramatic situation. I know your inclination is to shake it off and pretend nothing very serious happened, Mac, but that’s not the truth. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. I’ve seen guys your age thrown from horses take injuries so bad that they were never able to walk again, never mind competing in rodeos.”

Mac stood up from the exam table. “I come here for medical care, not life advice,” he said firmly. “If I was looking for this kind of stuff, I have about a million other people in my life who are waiting in line to tell me to quit doing what I love.”

“Maybe you ought to listen to them,” Dr. Logan said quietly, but Mac was already walking out the door and didn’t allow himself to be called back.

* * *

“Can you believe he’d say that to me?” he asked El later that night. It was dinner time and she was making spaghetti — or rather, he was making it, because El had decided that watching the noodles boil and stirring occasionally was the only task he could be entrusted with. Meanwhile, she was preparing a sauce, chopping vegetables for a salad, and occasionally opening the oven to rotate the garlic toast. Mac was helping in name only and he knew it.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” El said. “I know you don’t like people telling you to retire.”

“Forgetmenot liking it. No one would like it. He completely overstepped his bounds. Actually, I’ve got half a mind to just start seeing someone else altogether.”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t go that far,” El said quickly.

“You wouldn’t? I don’t want to stay with this guy if he’s going to give me useless advice like that. I mean, if I wanted someone to tell me to retire, I’d just call up some of the young bucks who think they’re big names on the rodeo scene right now. They’d be more than happy to tell me their opinions.”

“Right, and I agree that they shouldn’t,” she said. “It’s none of their business.”

“But you don’t think that applies to the doctor?"

“Well, he is your doctor,” El pointed out. “Isn’t it kind of his job to say things like that to you?”

“It’s his job to heal my arm, not to tell me I’m too old to compete!”

“Look, I get it that you don’t like it when people in your personal life make comments like that,” she said. “But this is different. It’s your doctor’s responsibility to tell you how best to take care of your body, even when you don’t want to hear it. And I’m not saying I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to hear it, because I really do, I promise. I’ve been listening to you about this and I get it, and I really am sorry that you had to hear him say that stuff. You don’t need to hear that, so just try to put it out of your mind.”

“I can’t put it out of my mind. Everyone I know says this stuff. He’s supposed to be someone I can count on to be professional.”

“Well, it sounds to me like he was being professional. He has a duty of care. No one else does when it comes to you, but your doctor does. Maybe heshouldtell you what you don’t want to hear.”

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