Five minutes later a doctor with gray balding hair shuffled into the waiting room and over to Jill. “Lieutenant Jacobson, I have some good news, and some bad news.”
“Tell me the good news first.”
“Your sprain is a class two, not a class three.”
“And the bad news?”
“You must take two months off from any strenuous physical activity. Will that be a problem?” the doctor asked.
Two months? That is impossible. I have to finish HALO school, and then go to the sniper competition. After that I have to go on the most import mission of my life.
“I don’t think there will be any problem. I have a desk job.” Well . . . that wasn’t a total lie. I do have to do deskwork occasionally.
“A desk job? I thought you injured your ankle in the vertical wind tunnel.” The doctor furrowed his brow.
“Doctor, I want to thank you for your help.” Jill flashed the doctor a cute smile that she knew would show her dimples, and hopefully divert his attention. “Will I need to keep it taped with this Ace bandage?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And I need to use these crutches whenever I am walking?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I suppose I need to keep the ankle iced for the next two days, followed by warm compresses for a couple more days?”
“Yes, but—”
“Doctor, you are an asset to the Army. You should be proud of the fine job you are doing. Thank you again for all of your help.” Jill got up, turned, and quickly hobbled out of the hospital. How will I ever make a HALO jump with these blasted crutches?