Pushed

I was looking over the pamphlets and bulletins at the local community center when a middle-aged woman came up to me. She smiled and asked if I wanted something.
In the annoyed mind of someone in chronic pain, I searched her face to see why she was bothering me. Had I done something wrong? Was I somewhere I shouldn't be?

I walked with an obvious limp in those days. The limp worsened when I exercised the hip joint, and often I used a walking stick or a crutch. I had left both at home that day and regretted it.

I explained that I was just browsing, and planned to leave, thinking I'd take the rest I needed on one of the benches outside.
She mentioned that there was an injured support group meeting that day.

My first reaction was to question why she was pushing me towards this group. Was it her pet project? She was pushing me because of some problem with money, I thought. I feigned interest and asked about it.
All I really wanted to do was sit down for a while. My hip had me nearly unconscious anyway.

I politely told her I'd try to make the meeting next Friday, only half sincerely.
I didn't like being pushed.