“Fine,” Emily said, dropping her arms to her lap. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Bette said nothing. She’d heard it all before; patients who were irritated and defensive were usually in pain. She understood that better than most. Just as she knew she shouldn’t mirror their annoyance. The session wasn’t about Emily’s attitude; it was about her healing and getting her back to the OR.
Bette picked up the chart, glancing at the details of Emily’s injuries. Apart from the list of injuries she sustained during an accident––most of which had been resolved through surgical intervention––the ones that stood out to Bette, and the reason Emily was here today, was the partial rotator cuff tear and the ACJ sprain. Nothing too serious. But painful enough that even thirty minutes in the OR could become excruciating.
“How’s your shoulder feeling today?” Bette asked, dropping the file to the bed.
“It hurts,” Emily replied, her voice clipped, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her scrub shirt. “But I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Bette contested. Sometimes she just had to be straightforward about it. “I can tell when someone’s in pain.”
“Really?” Emily snapped, her bright green eyes flashing with sharp, biting sarcasm, a look that somehow hardened thewoman’s smooth, youthful face––a face Bette found undeniably attractive, but certainly wouldn’t comment on…ever. “How’d you figure that out, Sherlock?”
Bette forced a smile. This wasn’t her fight to win, she reminded herself. She had to keep it professional and keep her emotions in check. “I’ve had years of practice. I can read people in the same way you can read an MRI and know exactly what is wrong.”
“Well, good for you,” Emily muttered under her breath, clearly not ready to acknowledge the level of vulnerability in her tone. An orthopedic surgeon treated patients. Not the other way around. Bette was sure Emily found the change in roles a terribly hard pill to swallow.
“Let’s just see what we’re working with,” Bette said, ready to start the examination. She moved to Emily’s side, hands reaching for the surgeon’s shoulder, guiding her gently into position before starting. “First, I’m going to check your a range of motion. If there’s any pain, stop me.”
Emily tensed, her jaw setting in a way that showed she wasn’t particularly happy about being touched. Still, she didn’t pull away. That was something. Small progress.
Slowly but surely, Bette moved Emily’s arm through its range of motion, her fingers brushing lightly against the muscles in the shoulder. At certain points, Emily’s features tightened, and a sharp hiss of breath escaped her lips, yet she didn’t say a word.
At least Betty knew when not to push too hard. Years of experience told her how to move, and how to test without aggravating their symptoms.
When she moved the arm horizontally across Emily’s body, testing her AC joint, Betty asked, “Does that hurt?”
Emily pressed her lips together until they turned white. That was the answer enough. “What do you think?” she retorted, herwalls still up and fighting. “I just don’t get it. It’s been seven weeks since the injury, the pain should be better by now.”
“A shoulder injury like this doesn’t always heal on its own as quickly as you’d like,” Bette explained, though she knew Emily was already very aware of that fact. “Even if the tear or the sprain isn’t severe, the surrounding muscles can still be irritated, especially when you refuse to address it and keep pushing yourself.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Emily snapped, yanking her arm out of Bette’s grip. The surgeon flinched, and Bette assumed the sudden move probably rocketed pain through her shoulder.
But Emily’s defensiveness wasn’t about her injury. Bette had seen it before––the way people guarded themselves when they didn’t want anyone to see the cracks underneath.
But she wasn’t in the business of forcing people to open up. She didn’t have the energy for that. Not anymore. Not after her divorce, anyway. She had learned the hard way that some things, like trust, couldn’t be rushed. And after everything with Reba––especiallyafter everything with Reba––Bette had put up her walls. Higher than ever.She just assumed Emily had done the same.
“I know I don’t,” Bette said, stepping back to let the woman breathe. “All I’m saying is that I’m here to help you. But I can’t do that if you don’t take this seriously.”
The surgeon’s gaze hardened. “I am taking this seriously,” she snapped defensively. “I just don’t need a lecture.”
“It’s not a lecture,” Bette replied, her voice remaining calm, though there was more of an edge to it now, a twinge of impatience. “It’s the reality of the situation. You won’t get better if you keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You need to be honest with yourself, Emily. If you want to get back into theOR, you need to put in the work. That’s why you’re here. That’s what I’m going to help you with.”
Emily’s lips twisted in a tight line, and for a moment, Bette though she might say something else, might stick out her arm and let her continue with the examination. Instead, the surgeon leaped off the bed and tore open the curtains with her good arm. “I’m done here,” she said, coldly. “This isn’t helping. You’re not going to fix my shoulder by talking about it.”
Bette watched her storm out.
She didn’t ask her to stay. She didn’t call Emily back when she marched across the treatment area. And she sure as hell didn’t chase after her when she reached the exit.
That was another instinct Bette had––to recognize when to give someone space, when to back off, and when to stay quiet. It appeared, however, that she had taken it too far with Reba.
“Do you think she’ll come back?” Maggie asked, rising from her desk to peek out into the hallway. “Because honestly, good riddance, right? She seems like a hell of a lot more work than you need.”
Bette exhaled sharply, feeling tired all of a sudden. But the day had hardly started. Her schedule was booked up till late. “She’ll come back,” she said, staring at the door. “She just needs some time to figure it out. They always do.”
4
EMILY
