Page 58 of Testing the Goalie

Right now, all my thoughts are about letting my team down. If I had only been paying a tiny bit more attention, maybe I could have gotten out of the way before the other players slammed into me.

I’m not sure how much time passes when there is a knock on the door. I look up to see Melissa and Dr. Simmons, one of the school’s sports medicine physicians, walking into the room.

“How are you feeling, Coop?” Dr. Simmons asks, standing beside my bed on the opposite side of Ian.

I tilt my head from side to side. “Been better, but the medicine the nurse gave me is helping with the pain.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with a soft smile, but an emotion behind his eyes makes it obvious he’s about to drop some bad news.

“How fucked am I?”

He presses his lips together, and I brace myself for the cold, hard truth. “You tore your ACL,” he states, and I gasp.

I was praying it wouldn’t be that, but I knew the possibility was there, especially when the pop radiated throughout my leg. ACL injuries are no joke. The recovery process is long, and I’m guaranteed to be out for the rest of the season. So much for bringing home another championship win.

“Thankfully, it’s only a grade two injury, meaning the ACL is still in one piece, but it was stretched and partially torn. Surgery is going to be your best road to recovery. If you want to go that route, there is an orthopedic surgeon who will be able to operate Monday morning.”

“What happens if I don’t have the surgery?” I inquire.

“You won’t ever be able to play hockey again, and there is a higher chance of reinjuring yourself in the future,” he explains. “I highly recommend you choose to get the operation. It’s a minimally invasive procedure and will give you the best chance of getting back to doing the things you love. I know you don’t want to join the NHL, but would you never want to play hockey again, even just for fun.”

He’s right, of course. I’ve seen Dr. Simmons several times over my four years at GSU. He knows me and my love of the sport. If I don’t have the surgery, I’ll never get back on the ice which would be pure hell.

“Let’s do the surgery,” I murmur after a brief pause in the conversation.

“Good call,” Dr. Simmons says with a nod. “Since your only injury is your ACL tear, we are going to discharge you. That will give you a couple of days to rest at home. The nurse will be back with paperwork soon and instructions for how to prepare for your surgery Monday morning.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I reply, feeling somewhat defeated.

He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but I promise this isn’t the end. Yes, the recovery is going to seem like it lasts forever, but eventually, you’ll be back to your normal self. Don’t be too hard on yourself in the process.”

With those parting words, he leaves, and I throw my head back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s easy for everyone to tell me not to beat myself up, but they aren’t the ones who just had their world flipped upside down.

Ian squeezes my hand as I lay there silently. I love that he’s here right now, but things are going to be different between us thanks to this injury which scares the shit out of me.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long for the nurse to bring my discharge paperwork, along with the instructions for what to expect Monday, and Ian takes me to his place, where his sister and Coach Appleton are waiting.

When we knew I wouldn’t be staying much longer at the hospital, we sent Coach a text to give him the new information and told him not to bother coming to the hospital. Of course, he still wanted to see me, so we agreed for him to meet us at Ian’s place for a short visit.

“I’m Katy,” a pretty brunette with piercing blue eyes, the same color as her brother’s, says to me as I shuffle slowly into the house. “Can I help you get comfortable?”

Ian told me she’s a physical therapist, so I trust her to know a thing or two.

“That would be wonderful. Sorry that we didn’t get to meet on a better day. I promise my life isn’t normally this chaotic.

She giggles and shakes her head. “I know you didn’t plan to tear your ACL, so I’ll let it slide this time,” she teases. “But just because you’re injured doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you. I still plan to bulldoze my way into your life and make sure we’re best friends before I leave.”

I laugh as she guides me to the couch and places my leg on a few pillows to ensure it’s elevated.

“I’d love that,” I tell her, then turn toward Coach Appleton, standing and looking awkward with his hands in his pocket and his brows pulled together in a worried way.

“How are you feeling?” he asks once I’m situated.

I really wish people would stop asking that question. I mean, I understand why they’re asking, but it’s getting on my nerves. So, instead of answering, I raise a brow and shoot him a look that says do I really have to reply?

He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. “Sorry, I guess that’s a stupid question. Coach Mason gave us all the rundown on your injury once the game ended. I’m sorry this happened to you, Coop.”

I shrug my shoulder. “Shit happens.”

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