“Good.”
She gave us a written plan for the week.
Shorter activity periods.
One financial review with me and Caleb in two days, no more than thirty minutes.
Gradual reintegration into the yard, beginning with observation and simple bench tasks once Joel approved.
No driving assessment yet.
No unsupervised stairs.
No lifting.
No alcohol.
No long outings after medical appointments.
Noah’s expression darkened with every restriction.
Then Dr. Whitcomb added, “You may resume kissing if mutually desired and if you do not place stress on your injuries.”
Noah’s head lifted.
I stared at her.
She remained professionally calm.
“He asked last visit about relationship boundaries,” she explained.
“I did?”
“You wrote it in your list.”
Noah looked at the journal.
Then at me.
“I don’t remember writing that.”
“You were tired,” I said.
His cheeks reddened.
Dr. Whitcomb handed him the book.
“An external record is still a valid memory aid.”
“That is horrifying.”
“It is practical.”
He put the journal in his lap.
“Are we done?”
“You are.”
