#Chapter 73: Lunch with the Gang

"Ouch!" Brady says from where he's lying on the guest room bed. "Damn it, Doc, is this really necessary?" "Is it necessary to stretch your leg muscles while you're laid up post-surgery and can't walk for another four weeks at the least?" I ask drily, raising one eyebrow and staring down at him. "I don't know, Brady, what do you think?" "All right, all right," he grumbles. "I'm just saying. Ouch." "Ouch, indeed," I agree, reaching for his other leg and moving it through a gentle cycle of stretches. "But you don't want to try to stand up in a month's time and keel over because your legs have forgotten how to walk." "I know," Brady says. "Isn't there some other way to do this, though?" "Aside from accessing a time machine and avoiding your near-fatal gunshot wound altogether, no, not really," I respond. "Sorry, buddy." Brady sighs, slumping back on his pillows. "This stinks." "Major surgery usually does," I agree. "But really, Brady, you're lucky to be alive at all. A