Peterson did get Lucy, but it was because she wanted her to wheel me over to the hospital. I looked down at the wheelchair, then up at the doctor. “You’ve got to be kidding.” She wasn’t. She pointed at the chair, and I sat in it. Lucy began pushing me toward the door, but Dr. Peterson stepped in front of us, searing me with a schoolteacher stare. “Now I don’t want to hear any reports that you’ve been a difficult patient. You go in and do what you’re told.” “Yes, ma’am.” And I did. It wasn’t hard setting my foot on the table and holding it still. Even I could manage that. Fifteen minutes later I was out of the room and headed back to the doctors’ office. We were part way to the door when I grabbed the wheel. The chair lurched to a stop and Lucy banged into the back of it. “Let’s go see Carla while we’re here.” “We really ought to get you back to—” “It’ll take a couple of minutes for Dr.
