Elise Lanier - Treading Lightly

“Honey,” he’d said far too seriously for her comfort, “I’m sorry, but I’m not joking. Your spine is collapsing upon itself. You didn’t pull a muscle, honey, you fractured your spine.”

She’d remembered looking at him as if he were nuts. “Check the report again, Harvey.”

“I’ve checked and double-checked it. I even put a call in to the lab’s head technician to see if there could possibly be some mix-up.”

“And?”

“And, there’s no mix-up, no mistake.” The look he’d given her was steeped with sadness and concern. “My dear, you’ve got the stubbornness of a two-year-old toddler, the eating habits of an eight-year-old child, the figure of a sixteen-year-old boy, the mentality of a thirty-year-old wildcat, the mouth of a forty-year-old sailor, and the bones of a seventy-five-year-old woman.”

He’d tried to use humor to help defray the emotionalism of the diagnosis, but she’d been thrown into a state of shock when she’d found he wasn’t kidding around. “How did this happen?”

He’d shrugged. “You’re genetically preprogrammed.”

“What the hell does that mean, Harvey?”

“You’re tall, thin, Caucasian, and breast-fed a child you had later in life. You’re the poster child for this disease.”

“It’s a disease?” she’d gasped.

“Osteoporosis? Sure is, honey,” he’d said quietly. Too quietly.

He’d scared her. “So what happens now?”

“Well,” he’d said slowly, “now you have to use that stubbornness of yours to get yourself on a regimen of eating right and exercising to get those bones as strong as we can.”

“Can we do that?”

“We can try. But I have to tell you, there’s no easy or magic solution to this, Janine. You’re going to have to work at it. Diligently. And daily.”

She’d made a face.

“Look, if you need their help, I’m willing to put a call in to your mother and also one to Martin if you feel you need support with this.”

She’d gasped again, only this time, not in shock but in horror. Clutching her hand to her chest, she’d said, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh no?” he’d said, eyeing her directly. “If it’s the difference between your doing as I instruct or not, you’re damned straight I’ll call in the troops. This is serious, Janine. I can’t stress this enough.”

“Okay already, I get it, Harvey. Cool the threats and theatrics.”

“You need to follow my orders or I’m going to call in the hounds.”

“Hounds my ass…they’re more like pit bulls!”

“Like you’re not one of those yourself,” he’d said with a chuckle. “Now listen up and listen good…” was the start to his long list of things she’d had to eat daily, do daily, and take weekly. He’d also given her a prescription that came with a warning list so long it had scared the hell out of her. After taking the pill she couldn’t lean over, bend over, lie down, eat fiber, take medicine, drink anything other than water, or ingest food, to list a few. It was scary, and had made her realize the magnitude of this whole thing.

Harvey had been right. It wasn’t a joke.

After that, she’d done some pretty thorough research via the Internet, and everything he’d said was true and accurate. Everything. From her genetic predisposition, to her chances of future fractures and damage based on that current level of bone density. He was also right on the money with his ordered advice on how to fight any further damage through diet, exercise, and the latest medication he’d prescribed to help stop and possibly reverse bone loss.

Now, as he’d said, it was her job to follow that strict course of therapy.

That fateful day, on her way home from Harvey’s office, she’d stopped at a grocery store and bought milk, yogurt, ice cream, and one of each of their stocked cheeses—Romano, Parmesan, Monterey Jack, mozzarella, provolone, Swiss, jalapeño jack, American, Muenster, white cheddar, and regular cheddar in mild, medium, sharp, extra sharp, New York, and Vermont.

The other thing she’d done that day was call a used-sporting-goods shop to find a reasonably priced, secondhand treadmill. The first call was all it took.

“I’ve got plenty to choose from, lady. Come on down and you can try ’em out,” the man had said.

Not knowing what she was looking for, or what the differences could possibly be, she’d told him to send a good, reliable yet reasonably priced machine that wouldn’t take up too much space in her already cramped bedroom.

“Ya mean the space-savin’, basic model?”

Sounded good to her. “Yes, that’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Ya need incline, preprogramming, or anything over ten miles per hour?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you run?”

“No. I’ll be walking.”

“Do you want it to move up and down simulatin’ hills?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay, lady. I’ve got a good, plain, basic, space-savin’ machine I think’ll be poifect for ya.”

He’d given her the price, including shipping, and told her his guy could deliver it the next day. She’d given him her credit-card number and told him she’d be there waiting.

She’d decided not to tell Craig about the osteoporosis thing. At least not yet. Not until she’d gotten herself on the right path to making herself healthier. She knew she might not be able to make it better, but she could try not to let it get too much worse—possibly slow it down a bit.

That very afternoon Craig had noticed something was awry.

“What’s with all the cheese, Mom?”

“I had a craving. And you know, Craig, it wouldn’t hurt you if you ate a little calcium, too.”

He’d shrugged. “Sure.” The boy ingested anything that didn’t scurry out of his reach, what did he care if it had nutrients, minerals or calcium in it? Well, now that she’d discovered the dire results of eating a calcium-deprived diet, she’d make sure her own flesh and blood didn’t fall into that dark pit.

“Eat some cheese,” she’d called as she tried to empty a corner of her room for the treadmill being delivered the next day. She had no idea how big the machine would be so she cleared as much space as possible, attempting to additionally free up a pathway for the deliverymen to carry it in.

“Hey, cool. What’s up?” Craig had asked upon seeing her activity.

“What? Something has to be up for me to be cleaning my room?”

He’d raised an eyebrow at her. Only one eyebrow. She didn’t know how he did that but was always fascinated when he did, because she thought it was nifty and creepy at the same time. She didn’t have the talent, and often wondered if Martin had the one-eyebrow-raising endowment. She’d wondered, but never enough to ask the bastard when she had the divine pleasure of talking with, to, or at him.

“Okay. So maybe I am cleaning up for a reason. I’ve decided to go on a health kick.”

Craig had laughed. “That’s funny, Mom.”

“I mean it!”

“I’m sure you do. But for how long this time? That’s the real question.”

“Forever.”

“You say that every time, Mom. You’ve said that the last seventeen times you’ve gone on a permanent health kick.”

“Well, this time is different!” she’d huffed, insulted by her son’s lack of faith in her word.

He’d done the one-eyebrow thing again. “How so?”

“Because I mean it this time.”

“Unlike all the other times you’ve said it in the past?”

She’d remembered getting annoyed. “Is this you encouraging me, here? Or is it you trying to talk me out of it before I even attempt to start my new healthy lifestyle?”

His hands had flown up in the air. “Hey, don’t go all postal on me, Mom. I’m just trying to gauge how committed you are to this—your latest—healthy-lifestyle kick.”