It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,56

even an emoji?

Yes.

Yes, it’s allowed. And even if it wasn’t I’d do it for you.

A Cutie pie emoji.

That one’s made up.

Maybe, but they should have one.

Agree. Oh, and back at you.

Twenty

For a smart girl, I continue to be shocked by how things play out in my life. Like how I believed, really believed, that my parents would listen to me since we had the “little talk” about my having more say in my medical decisions.

But somehow, two weeks after my accident, here we are in Dr. Rodriguez’s office to discuss my rehabilitation. He’s handed us each a brochure for the rehab center he’s hoping to talk us into. “If you go to Brentwood, it would most likely be for a three- or four-week stay. We could wait until the cast comes off, place the baclofen pump, if you agree to that, before you went, and they could help you adjust to it there.”

Mom looks at me as if it was all so reasonable. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

Mom pulls up the calendar on her phone. “You get your cast off in three weeks. So you could go to Brentwood and be back in time for next semester.”

“And what about the end of this semester?”

“We’ll switch you to Hospital Homebound and you can finish online,” Mom says.

My stomach sinks. No more English class with Julian.

Dr. Rodriguez scrolls through the Brentwood page on his iPad. “It says here that they have teachers at Brentwood to help also.”

“So I miss all of winter break? With Eric?” My voice is shrill and shaky, and I know that’s not helping me make my case. “Why can’t I rehab here?”

“You could,” Dr. Rodriguez says, “But at Brentwood you’d get daily PT. Here as an outpatient you’d only get two or three times a week at most.”

“Why?”

“That’s all insurance will cover,” he says.

“Well, can’t the trust pay the difference?” I ask. “I mean, isn’t that what the money’s for?”

“Yes, Jenna, but outpatient rehab isn’t the same as inpatient. They have more tools inpatient. It’s more intensive and also offers more healing treatments.”

“So what do we think?” Mom says this like a salesperson trying to talk her customer into a big-ticket item that’s really wrong for them—and she knows it.

“We would like time to think it over.”

“How much time do we have?” Dad’s faced forward, one hand on the arm of his chair and the other under his chin. He does this when he’s hyperfocused on something. As in when Mom gets mad at him for working all night on a new product for a client. And in this moment, the thing he’s hyperfocused on is me. Getting me better.

Dr. Rodriguez types onto his keyboard, looking at his computer screen. “Well, at this point, they have three beds open. Tomorrow they may have ten or none. It all depends.”

“Have you sent people there before?” Dad asks.

“Yes. A few.” Then to Mom and me. “They all did very well.”

He’s building his case. I need to build mine. “The thing is, it doesn’t matter to me how many people have gone or how successful they’ve been.” Mom’s eyes practically bug out, but I keep going. “I’m not saying I’m not going to go, I’m only saying I want to think about it. That I want it to be my decision.”

Dr. Rodriguez holds up his hand just in time to stop Dad’s rebuttal. “Why don’t you think about it for a day or two. Rehab will only work if Jenna buys in.”

Dad stands up. Paces. This is going to be bad. All of the oxygen leaves the room as we wait for Dad’s verdict. “No.”

I surprise myself with an icy reply. “No?”

“We are your parents, Jenna. This is what you need.” Then to Dr. Rodriguez. “What if we book her at rehab in three weeks and she decides not to go?”

Dr. Rodriguez says, “I don’t want to take a space if she’s not going to use it. In case someone else needs it.”

Mom holds her hands up. “I think we should talk about this.”

“I’m sorry. But I think this is nonnegotiable.” Dad tries to soften the look on his face, but his words have done the damage. “It’s for your own good. Make the appointment.”

So the ride home is really silent. Mom keeps trying to check me in the mirror, but I’m too busy texting Uncle Steve.

It’s worse than we thought. They made the decision for me!

I’ll meet you at the house after this.

Thank you.

You want me to bring the