Page 9 of Platinum Pressure

“Cool.” Platinum placed the paper on the armrest of the couch he sat on and scribbled his signature. Then he held the paper out to me.

“Thank you. I like to work closely with my clients. I can’t force you to do anything, but I will be here to monitor your medication intake.”

“Like a warden in a prison.” Platinum interjected.

I shook my head. “I care about the well-being of my patients. Pain management is one of the biggest things on my list. I do not want you to become dependent on the pills they gave you, but I also know everyone’s pain tolerance varies. We will find a good regimen that benefits your recovery with your goals in mind without relying heavily on addictive opioids. What is your biggest goal?”

“I finally get a say in what’s going on?” Platinum grumbled.

“Yes. Unless you want me to direct the question to someone else to answer?”

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes perused me like he needed to find something. My gaze never wavered. I met his calculated gaze with the same intensity. Satisfied with what he saw, he chuckled softly and answered, “I want to be back on the field by the playoffs.”

I blinked. “Do you know full ACL recovery can take over a year?”

“Well, we need aggressive measures. My team needs to get back to the Super Bowl.”

“I hear you, but I want to know that you have to be patient with your body. What you want and what reality has in store for you may not align with the timeline you set.”

Platinum shrugged. “You’re the best in your field, right? I’m the best in mine. You focus on keeping my knee intact because I’m getting back on that field no matter what.”

“We’ll see.”

“We will.”

We stared at each other like we were having an old-fashioned pissing competition. His love for football was both admirable and detrimental at the same time. I would have to figure out the best way to get us on the same track without potentially putting him in an unrecoverable situation.

“Let me see what your knee looks like now. I’m going to make a few notes to take back to your care team.” I stood up and opened my bag. I pulled out a pair of purple latex free gloves. Then I walked over to him. My initial examination took time because I captured every angle of his knee to get a baseline for recovery.

I couldn’t even lie. Platinum was a tank. The man was big as hell. His thigh alone was damn near a hundred pounds by itself—not really, . . . obviously, but man, he was huge with most of his weight being firm, trained muscles. Six feet and six inches on TV didn’t look as big as it did in person. He was damn near a whole foot taller than me—which said a lot because I was above average height for women.

“We really appreciate you for coming in and diving right into his care,” Mr. Jones stated as he stood up with his wife.

“It’s no problem at all. I still have to move around my schedule to better accommodate Platinum’s needs, but I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine when he’s done being a crybaby and locks into the plans I have in store for him.”

“A crybaby is wild.” Platinum grumbled yet continued to prove my point through his tantrum-throwing actions.

“I’m just calling it like I see it, Pooks. You met me with rudeness, and I must match your energy until you show me something different.”

He remained quiet.

His mother chimed back in. “We know we are only paying you for the daily exercises and check-ins, but would it be possible for you to be a full-time live-in nurse during his recovery? We read up on your credentials, and we saw you were both certified in nursing and physical therapy. We live kind of far from here and would have a peace of mind if someone with medical training stayed on the premises with him.”

Platinum’s head shot up at his mother’s words. My eyebrows lifted in surprise.

A live-in nurse? That wasn’t a part of the agreement.

“I know it isn’t ideal, but we would really appreciate the extra step and will pay whatever is needed to get you to comply,” Mr. Jones added.

“Hell naw.” Platinum protested. “Hell the fuck naw. Y’all got me fucked up. No.”

“Yeah, I’m not staying in a home that I’m not welcomed in no matter what dollar amount you try to throw at me. For now, we will stick to daily check-ins with thirty-minute leg exercises and medication review.”

“I get the reservations, we all do, but we think Meadow moving in would be the best option,” Mrs. Jones explained.

“Don’t you want to get back on the field, P?” Mr. Jones asked.

“I’ve only said it a million times,” Platinum responded.