Once A Playboy…

‘I’m fine, really. I don’t want to make a fuss,’ Janet said.

‘You’re not making a fuss,’ Serena reassured her. Though she knew where Janet was coming from. She didn’t like making a fuss, either. And she hated the fact that she still felt so thrown by George. That she was still wishing she’d been brave enough to have lunch with him, even though at the same time she knew she’d done the sensible thing.

She took Janet through the fourteen different tests. Moving from a sitting position to standing was a problem; Serena made a note for the occupational health team to look at the chairs at Janet’s home to see if they needed to be raised to make standing up easier, as well as possibly installing grab rails for the bathroom and toilet. Janet clearly also found it difficult to turn and look behind and to place an alternate foot on a stool—stairs might also need looking at, Serena noted. And retrieving an object from the floor took more effort and time than was comfortable for Janet.

‘We have group exercise sessions here especially for people who find balance a little tricky. I think you’d benefit from them,’ she said. ‘The exercises will help with your balance, strength and suppleness.’

‘But I’ve only just been diagnosed,’ Janet said.

‘That’s a good time to start,’ Serena said with a smile, ‘because it means we can keep you going at this level for a lot longer. We have several groups, all at different levels, so you won’t feel like the odd one out. Just come along to the first one and give it a try,’ she coaxed.

Janet bit her lip. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’

‘You’re not making a fuss,’ Serena reassured her again. ‘And the big thing is that it’ll help you keep your independence.’

Something that Serena herself valued highly—and something she’d find incredibly difficult to give up. Carving out a successful career as well as bringing up her son as a single parent meant that she was used to being in control. Having to lean on someone else now would be unthinkable.

Janet looked thoughtful. ‘So I won’t have to get people to do things for me.’

Just as Serena had hoped: this was the key. Janet needed to feel independent. ‘Exactly. It’ll give you a chance to do more things the way you want to do them.’ She smiled at the older woman. ‘And then you won’t have to bite your tongue and feel ungrateful when someone does something for you and they don’t do it to your standards.’

Janet looked relieved. ‘So it’s normal to feel like that? I’ve felt so mean-spirited.’

‘It’s perfectly normal. I’d be the same,’ Serena reassured her. ‘So will you give it a try?’

Janet nodded.

‘Great.’ Serena booked her in for the session, wrote out an appointment card for her, and then wrote up her notes before seeing her next patient.

Lenny Rivers had a Colles’ fracture of the wrist. The same injury as George; and Serena was cross with herself for thinking of him. She forced herself to be calm and patient as she explained to Lenny, ‘I need to check the movements of your shoulder, first, as it can be damaged by a fall on the hand. Has your arm been in a sling?’

‘Not as much as it should’ve been,’ Lenny admitted, looking faintly guilty.

She smiled. Given that his arm hadn’t been kept that immobile, his elbow wouldn’t be a problem. ‘Let’s have a look.’ She examined him gently; the colour of his skin looked fine and there was no abnormal swelling, so he was healing nicely. ‘Your skin’s a bit dry, but that’s really common after you’ve been in plaster. If you use a gentle moisturiser or baby oil on your skin, that will help get rid of the dryness. Have you been in any pain?’

‘Not really.’

‘Good. You might find you do get some swelling, so if that happens all you need to do is elevate your arm a bit, maybe put an ice pack for up to fifteen minutes, four times a day. Though make sure the ice isn’t straight against your skin, or you could burn it,’ she warned.

‘It feels a bit strange with the plaster off,’ Lenny said. ‘I’m a bit scared to use it, in case I hurt it again.’

‘I can give you a splint to help support it for the next couple of weeks,’ Serena said. ‘It will help you rest your wrist, but won’t restrict your movements.’

She recorded the rotatory movements of Lenny’s forearm, his wrist flexion and extension, and his finger and thumb movements. She could remember doing this with George; thinking of him made her heart sink. How stupid she’d been to think that George had been serious about wanting to see her. He was a playboy. She would’ve been a temporary distraction for him—and that wasn’t what she wanted. Though she didn’t want a serious relationship, either—because that would mean putting her trust in someone. And how could you trust a playboy not to let you down?

Forcing thoughts of George from her mind, she talked Lenny through the exercises. ‘I’m going to give you a leaflet with all the exercises and the advice I’ve given you today. The exercises are illustrated by photographs, so that’ll help you remember how to do them,’ she explained. ‘You need to do ten reps of each, three or four times a day.’

‘Before every meal and then just before bed?’

‘That sounds about perfect.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll do the first reps now, as it’s lunchtime.’

Yes, lunch that she was going to be spending on her own, at her desk. Which was her own fault; but it was better than the alternative. That she would’ve looked forward to lunch with George and he would’ve stood her up.

She wrote up Lenny’s notes, then checked her phone quickly before she went to the hospital canteen to grab a sandwich, and was shocked to see a text from George.

Even if you have back-to-back patients, you still need a break. I’ll bring lunch with me and wait for you in the waiting room.

What?

She stared at the phone, horror-stricken. He hadn’t replied to her text, so she’d been certain that he’d lost interest in her.

But it seemed that George was planning to meet her at work, completely ignoring her refusal.

Help. No way could George Somers sit in any kind of room without drawing attention to himself. He could be quietly reading a book or something, and women would still be staring at him. He had that kind of presence. If he was in the waiting room right now, he’d stand up to greet her the second she walked in.

People would notice.

People would talk.

The last thing she wanted was people gossiping about her. She just had to hope that George wasn’t already there. Especially as the time-stamp on the text told her he’d only just sent it.

She had to force herself to walk slowly into the waiting room, not to run in panic. To her relief, George wasn’t waiting there. She headed out past the reception desk and was just about to take her phone out of her bag and call him when she saw him walking down the corridor towards her.

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