The physiotherapists magic spell had faded by the time my mother and I had gotten back to the car. My ankle was hurting more now than previously, due to all the exercises and circling that the physio did. I had put my papers in the back of the car and when I closed the passenger door, my mother started. I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with her over-the-top, unnecessary drama. I zoned out nearly the second she started talking and looked out the window. I was too mad to be in a place I couldn’t get out of. If Mum and I got into an argument, it was going to be bad, so I figure it was best to just listen.
We pulled into the driveway and I grabbed my Physio Rouse Hill papers that had my ankle exercises on them and hopped to the front door. My mother was still lecturing me about how rude it was for me to not stand up for her when she was arguing with the physio. I lay down on the couch with an icepack and got ready for a few hours of solid TV watching. My mother came running in, yelling about the man from Physiotherapist Rouse Hill, and all the things he had told me to do. I stood up abruptly and told my mother to stop it. She was losing her mind and it was becoming obvious to everyone. I grabbed my mother’s hand in an effort to calm her but it just made her more frantic. I had to yell, before she was able to hear my answers over the volume of her questions. I told her that the physio at Physiotherapy Rouse Hill told me to wait a week before I did my exercises. I also explained that I was not a child and could look after a sprained ankle.