Page 236 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

"Annette left this for your continuing care."

He places it in front of me. Every page is covered in her handwriting.

Measurements.

Progress charts.

Strength goals.

Exercises.

Restrictions.

Notes about what aggravates my shoulder. Notes about what doesn't.

He turns another page.

"She documented every session."

Another.

"She outlined every remaining appointment."

Another.

"She even anticipated the adjustments we'd likely make once your range of motion improved."

I stare at the pages.

Every detail.

Every possibility.

Everything planned.

My throat tightens. "So..." I swallow. "She knew she was leaving."

Dr. Reynolds nods once.

"Yes."

"She planned this."

"Yes."

The room suddenly feels too small. This wasn't panic. This wasn't confusion.

She packed. She organized. She made certain I'd be taken care of.

This wasn't an impulsive goodbye.

She made sure I wouldn't need her. Somehow, that hurts most of all.

She thought of everything... Except telling me goodbye.

I don't remember leaving the hospital.

One minute I'm standing in Dr. Reynolds' office.