Regina
Japheth insisted that he was coming to my prenatal appointment, even though he was still in a tremendous amount of pain, and still sleeping on the couch because navigating the stairs was too much for him. Getting in and out of my car was also very difficult, so we opted to take one of the farm trucks. It was a redneck masterpiece, with a silver body, a blue box, and a green tailgate, all patched together with panels and rivets to cover the rust spots, so the twenty-year-old truck would still pass inspection.
Jeff was able to use his good arm to hold the handle, pull himself up onto the seat sideways, and then swing the broken foot around onto the floorboard. Getting out was merely a process of stepping down onto his good foot, while I helpfully held his crutches at the ready.
