At the exam room door, Julia paused to flex and stretch her fingers, already sore from hours of manual manipulation. She was going to need her own paraffin treatment by the end of this day. The thought of smooth heat penetrating deep into her tired muscles, followed by a careful, targeted massage to create space in her aching joints, made her knees weak with pleasure.
Yep, that was all it took nowadays.
Sad, but so very true.
With a quiet knock, Julia slipped into Dorothy’s room and closed the door. Sure enough, the feisty, senile grandmother of twelve, great-grandmother of six, stood beside the exam table completely naked, her body slender, her skin folded and discolored like an ancient road map.
She held the gown up with both hands and stared at it with narrowed eyes. “Whoever invented these ought to be shot.” She balled up the gown and tossed it on the table. “What do I care at my age anyway?”
“It’s a little chilly in here.” Julia spoke softly and moved slowly. Depending on Dorothy’s mood, the woman could go from crabby to combative in a blink. “Do you want to put your clothes back on?”
“No,” she said, the snappish tone carrying a don’t-ask-me-again attitude. “This is a bad day to move my parts around anyway. I already told Clara.”
“Why’s that?” Julia righted the flimsy gown. When she was able to ease one of the woman’s skeletal arms into the garment without protest, she tried for the next, all while half expecting to get whopped upside the head. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ve got gas,” she said as if she were trying to start an argument. “I’m gonna fumigate this room as soon as you start moving me around. That can’t be healthy for a little thing like you.”
“I’m tougher than I look.” She patted Dorothy’s shoulder and faced her with a smile. “We’ll take it really easy today and just see how it goes.”
; Dorothy’s partial scowl remained, and she harrumphed but worked her butt onto the table and lay back.
“How’s your knee feeling after yesterday’s treatment?”
“Hurts,” was all she said.
Julia gently massaged her thigh, knee, and shin, warming the muscles while feeling bones, joints, and ligaments. Then started on the movements that would take up the majority of the session—gently pressing Dorothy’s leg into a bend, then drawing it straight again. Bend, straighten. Bend, straighten. Bend, straighten.
Fundamental, simple…mind-numbing exercises. The complete opposite of what she’d come from, where every day her former clients strove for personal records, combining mind, body, and spirit to reach new heights of physical achievement.
But that was over. And after three months of these rudimentary exercises, she felt her joy for life leaking from her soul.
Julia lowered Dorothy’s leg to the table, and the older woman grunted and grimaced.
“Doing okay?” she asked, massaging the area around Dorothy’s kneecap.
“I think it’s time to stop.”
“But you’re doing so well. Your knee is going to feel much better after these muscles loosen up.”
Julia pushed Dorothy’s bent knee gently toward her chest again.
“Doesn’t feel like you’re working on my knee,” she grumbled. “Feels like you’re trying to pop my hoo-ha out of joint.”
Julia grinned. “Well, I can promise that won’t happen.”
She eased the stretch, altered the position slightly, and pressed against Dorothy’s leg again.
The woman’s face wrinkled, and her fragile hands roamed her belly. “You’re in the danger zone, missy. I’m—”
A gas bubble ripped from Dorothy’s backside.
“Oh dear,” Dorothy said. “They probably heard that all the way in Kansas.”
Julia chuckled at Dorothy’s candid observation. Then the rank smell hit her, and she stifled a choke, holding her breath until she could safely settle Dorothy’s leg on the table and step out of the direct trajectory of yet another gurgling gas leak.
“Dear, dear, dear,” Dorothy said. “This is terrible. I told Clara…”