Page 86 of Lost Trust

From there, she moves me through passive range-of-motion work, supporting my arm and guiding it through movements while I keep the muscles relaxed.

That part messes with my head more than I expected. There’s something humbling about having somebody else move a limb you’ve spent your entire life taking for granted.

Then come scapular squeezes. She has me sit upright and pinch my shoulder blades together, hold, and release. Over and over and fucking over again.

“Shoulders down,” she reminds me.

I exhale.

“Shoulders down,” she repeats.

Next are isometric rotations. I press gently inward and outward against resistance without actually moving the joint. It sounds easy, but it sure as hell isn’t.

By the time she has me lying on my good side for external rotations with a ridiculously light weight in my hand, I’m done.

“This weighs what, two pounds?”

“One.”

I stare at it. “One?”

“Yep.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” I say.

By the end, my shoulder is burning, and my upper back feels like somebody lit a match between my shoulder blades.

Jovie stands at the foot of the table, watching me carefully. “How do you feel?”

“Like a tiny drill sergeant tortured me for the last hour and enjoyed it.”

She pats me on the back. “She did.”

I laugh.

She makes a few notes on her tablet before looking back at me.

“You did really well today, Royce. Your range is better than I expected, and you’re doing a good job keeping the movements controlled.”

“Great.” I sit up and grab my shirt. “Same time tomorrow?”

“We can let it rest tomorrow. You may be a little stiff. And since you don’t have any swelling, I want you to get in the sauna. It’ll help relax the tight muscles and improve blood flow to the joint.”

Sauna instead of torture? Sign me up.

“Anything you say.”

I pull my shirt over my head and hop down from the table.

I wipe down the table for her while she closes everything down for the night. We leave the clinic together, and I glance toward the dining hall.

“You wanna grab dinner at the hall?”

Jovie shakes her head. “Nope. Heading to the main house. Evelyn invited me for pot roast. I think she feels bad for me because Axle flew out to shoot that commercial and didn’t get to come this week.”

I stop walking. “Pot roast?”

Grandma Evelyn’s pot roast is legendary. I look toward the dining hall. Whatever they’re serving can’t possibly compare.