Page 67 of Body Check

“Any chance the Blades will pull through for the Cup?”

The dry way he says it puts me slightly more at ease, especially when paired with the framed photo he’s set facedown next to his computer. I indicate it with a tilt of my head. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally switched loyalties? We both know you’re a Bruins fan, Doc, unless you’ve traded out that photo of you and Cam Neely for one of me and you?”

He doesn’t blush or pussyfoot around the issue, only casually shrugs his bony shoulders. “Well, what can I say? I’ve been alive six times longer than the Blades have even existed. When you’re pushing eighty, you’ll be wary of any new franchises who think they are God’s gift to hockey too.” His smile turns sly. “I’m sure my opinions are similar to yours regarding the new Vegas franchise. Or are you harboring a deep-seated love for the Knights?”

A touch sarcastically, I salute him with two fingers at my temple. “Touché, Dr. Mebowitz, touché.”

He grins, no doubt having ticked off a point in his favor.

“Now, let’s see where we left off.” Reaching for a pair of thin-framed glasses, he slides them onto his nose and thumbs open the manila file before him. The shuffling of the papers is loud in my ears, like phonetic paper cuts slicing through the air and drawing droplets of blood with their mere existence. “Ah, here we go. Shall I do an entire recap of all our prior testing or would you prefer I rip the bandage off and spare you the punishment of listening to me ramble?”

In my tennis shoes, my toes curl, seeking firm grounding.

“The latter,” I rasp, voice hoarse.

“Very well, then. Last year, you came here on a referral basis. You were experiencing headaches and that you, and I quote, ‘felt as though you were living in a fog.’” He slides his frames off and taps the tip of one plastic arm to his mouth. “May I assume that you feel roundabout the same?”

My stomach clenches with unease. I shift my weight, bringing one ankle to rest on my opposite knee. Clasping my hands over my shin, I hope that Dr. Mebowitz can’t tell that I’m doing my damn best not to show the tremors in my hands.

I’m nervous.

I’m so fucking nervous.

And, if I want to really dig deep and unravel my emotions, I know that I’d find fear is what’s driving the nerves, nothing else. If I can’t play hockey . . . if I’m forced to retire early, who even am I?

“Mr. Carter?”

At his inquisitive tone, I part my lips and force the words of self-damnation out. “Yeah.” I clear my throat, fist to my mouth. Try again. “It’s been . . . it’s been worse, to be honest. The headaches, I mean. The fog, too, but mostly it’s the headaches. Sometimes . . . sometimes I can’t deal with the light at all.”

He inclines his head slightly and slips his glasses back on his face. Grabbing a pen from a metal container, he clicks it open and puts ball tip to paper, waiting for me to continue, the pen ink leaving a mark on the written report.

I slam my eyes shut, drudging up the sensations after Fitzgerald slammed me into the boards.

“The nausea’s bad. Food tastes bland. Sometimes I could eat an entire restaurant; others I can’t even finish what’s on my plate.”

“Anxiety?” Dr. Mebowitz muses to himself as he glances down at my files. “Depression. Could be both.”

“I’ve never been diagnosed with either, but . . .” I dig my nails into my jean-clad shin, welcoming the minute sting of pain to the more thunderous roar in my head that’s only just begun to settle in the last few days. “Maybe, yeah, it could be”—I cough into one closed fist—“be something like that. When it’s real bad, I feel like I’m on a boat. My legs don’t feel steady. My right hand . . . it, uh, it tingles some—like it’s fallen asleep.”

Dr. Mebowitz’s mouth tightens in a frown, his scrawl across the page slowing to a stop. “And you’ve seen the team’s physical therapist about a possible spinal injury?” When I shake my head, he sets down the pen and leans back, hands linking over his stomach. “The issue, Mr. Carter, is that CTE isn’t something I can diagnose while you’re . . . let us say, while you’rebreathing, yes? Confirmation of the disease only occurs by studying the brain tissue after you’ve died. Now, taking that into account, your scans a year ago indicated—or, at least, suggested that TBI was a matter of concern. It made sense, of course, given your age and the longevity of your career. You’ve been playing for how long now?”

“Since I was four, maybe five.”

“And now you are . . .?”

He leans forward, his index finger trailing along my report, and I do him a solid of telling him the answer: “Thirty-four.”

“Ah, yes.” He gives me a brief, noncommittal smile. “Thirty-four. That’s thirty years of being in that rink, day in and day out. Studies have shown that children who play heavy contact sports, and who have suffered head injuries prior to the age of twelve, will run higher risks of brain trauma later on in life.”

By the time I was twelve, I’d already caught more gloves to the head, more helmets to the Plexiglas, than I would ever like to admit.

My breath leaves me on a shaky exhale. “So, what you’re saying is . . .”

“We need more testing, of course. Perhaps some time for you to sit with a cognitive therapist and reevaluate your moods. Tell me, do you ever experience out-of-character, impulsive behavior? Something that you yourself don’t recognize but that friends, family, have mentioned in passing that doesn’t seem very . . .you?”

“Never.” In this, my voice doesn’t waver. Aside from lifting Holly onto the hood of my car and taking her there, in the middle of a parking lot where anyone might see, I’ve never acted rashly a day in my life. Just as controlled as I am on the ice, the same can be said about my temper off it.

“That’s good news, at least.” Dr. Mebowitz scribbles something down on my file, barely casting me a glance as he does so. “Listen, Mr. Carter, brain injuries are not to be taken lightly. When you were last here, I suggested that you step back from the game and give your body the chance to breathe without the added, unrelenting physical stress of body checks or fights, or any other potential causes to all those headaches you’re experiencing.”

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