Page 37 of None Of Your Business

“Thanks.”

He gives me one small nod.

I let the door close.

I’m still smiling when I reach the parking lot.

Ten

“Keep your core tight. Don’t let your pelvis tilt.”

I want to tell Naomi that my pelvis has a mind of its own.

I’m standing on one leg on a foam pad, trying to maintain some dignity while my left ankle wobbles violently.

“I’m trying,” I grit through clenched teeth.

My heart starts skittering, and my vision narrows at the edges. I know the signs. I’m pushing it. My blood pressure is dropping while my heart rate spikes.

“And… rest,” Naomi says.

I collapse onto the treatment table.

“You’re struggling today,” she observes.

“The weather is changing.”

“We’ve been working together for six months. You’re having more bad days lately. The inflammation in your SI joint isn’t settling, and the way you’re compensating is starting to wreck your good knee.” She pulls her rolling stool closer, her tone softening. “Have you thought any more about using a walking aid?”

“I have one.”

“And do you use it?”

“We’ve had this conversation.”

“We’ve had half of it. You usually change the subject.”

“Because I don’t want a cane.”

“You don’t have to want one.”

I push myself upright. “Excellent. Problem solved.”

“I’m not saying to use it every day, but on days like today, when your hip is unstable and you’re already dizzy, it could help.”

“I’m twenty-six. Twenty-six-year-olds don’t use canes.”

“Twenty-six-year-olds who need canes do.”

“I do my physical therapy exercises every day,” I counter. “I stretch religiously before bed. I follow your exact protocol.”

She nods slowly, pen tapping against her clipboard. “You know what your problem is?”

“I have many, but go ahead.”

“You think you’re lazy.”

I go still as she sets the clipboard down.