“I’m assuming at this stage of the healing process, you’re limited to pendulums?”

“You know a lot about injuries and physical therapy.”

“Yes, I do. Now I’d like to see yours. Fifteen pendulum swings. Please begin.”

D.D.’s face paled. Her chin trembled; then she seemed to catch the motion, setting her jaw. “No . . . thank you.”

“Yes, please.”

“Look, my pain is already at a twelve. You make me do PT, and that’s it. I won’t be able to drive home, not to mention I’ll probably puke all over your rug.”

“I understand. Physical therapy is extremely painful for you. You start it in distress and end it in agony.”

“Says the woman who can’t even feel pain.”

“True. I could break my arm and still do pendulums. In fact, I could break my arm and do back handsprings. I’d be destroying the rest of my bones, joints and muscles in my body, but I’d look really good doing them.”

The detective fell silent.

“Pain is good,” I stated quietly. “It’s your body’s primary technique for protecting you from harm. You can’t see that right now. You’re angry with your pain. You yell at it or try to ignore it altogether. In return, your pain growls louder because it needs your attention. It’s doing what it’s supposed to do to help you avoid further damage. Perhaps rather than curse at Melvin for speaking up, you could thank him for his efforts on your behalf. Tell him you understand what he’s trying to do, but, for the next ten, fifteen or twenty minutes, you need him to understand that you must move your arm and shoulder. Even if it inflames your injury in the short term, your exercises are necessary for long-term recovery. Talk to him. Don’t just curse.”

“Now, see, this is where it starts to sound like bullshit again.”