“Nothin’, babe. Things are just fine.”
As I peered intently into his eyes, I asked the fateful question. “The knees?”
“Oh, they feel pretty good.”
And there it was. Pretty good. The pain was easing. The pain that had stolen his sense of humor and his ability to cope with frustration and that special tone I used to hear in his voice when he was happy.
“I just rode my bicycle. I could ride it until I worked up a sweat. It felt great. I can’t go down steps yet, but maybe after the next shot. Well, anyway the knees feel better.”
And we both grinned like kids.