“Good,” I said.

“Keep it that way.”

One week later, a home health technician undid the wide Velcro straps of my black walking boot in the sitting room of my father’s temporary quarters near the base.

My father sat on the sofa across from the armchair, holding eleven-month-old Noah on his lap while the baby happily chewed on a soft plastic teething ring.

The technician pulled the heavy plastic guard off my right leg and pressed her thumb firmly against my outer ankle bone.