Dad and the orthopedist were more restrained, cautioning me that there could still be muscle and tendon damage and insisting on an MRI. I found myself wondering, briefly, if they were disappointed that they weren’t getting a chance to perform a reduction on me, which I had by now figured out was a euphemism for forcibly shoving my dislocated shoulder back into place. But I had to admit that it was a relief when the MRI showed no serious damage.

Of course, my shoulder still hurt. And I would still need to wear a sling until the abused muscles healed a bit. And even in a small hospital, with Dad urging everyone on, the whole thing took quite a long time. Luckily, while I was waiting my turn in the MRI machine. Michael and the boys dropped by with my laptop. The boys were a little worried until I demonstrated that I had no visible wounds, after which they relaxed and began to explore all the exciting new opportunities for mischief that the ER provided. When they began fighting over who got to ride in the wheelchair and who had to push, Michael and I decided it was time for him to whisk them away to resume their Christmas shopping mission. I whiled away the long wait by finishing up a provisional schedule for relocating all the various church services, classes, pageants, rehearsals, dinners, brunches, and other events. It was a little annoying, having to type one-handed, but still—without my laptop and my cell phone, this would have been an impossible feat.

Of course, in a world without laptops and cell phones, Robyn would have had to find someone else to do the organizing after I’d gone to the hospital. And I could have had whatever pain meds Dad was willing to prescribe, instead of asking him for something that wouldn’t muddle my mind.

When I emerged from the MRI, I found that Dad and the orthopedist and several of the nurses had decided to go caroling up and down the halls of the hospital as soon as they finished treating me.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Dad said.

“I have a few things to do back at Trinity,” I said. “And then I think I’ll go home and rest.”

So Dad took me back to the church, singing “Good King Wenceslas” with great enthusiasm, although he did interrupt himself after nearly every verse to see how I was feeling.

Chapter 10

I arrived back at Trinity with my left arm in a sling, feeling extraordinarily cheerful thanks to the tranquilizer Dad provided, which didn’t do much to relieve the pain in my shoulder, but did make me feel curiously detached from it.

I continued to feel cheerful, mellow, and detached for two hours as everyone I talked to picked holes in my draft schedule. In short order I made not one but three complete revisions.