Page 2 of Hot for the Lifeguard
"Your back shouldn't hurt when I press at such a light pressure. I'm going to call the team doctor to see what they think."
"Okay," I breathe out as I watch him walk out of the room.
If he's recommending the team doctor, this is not good. Rocky understands how important it is for us to play and doesn't like to stand in the way. Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of any negative thoughts. Maybe it's nothing. I just need to stay calm until I know. My back feels stiff, but it’s not like there is anythingactuallywrong.
It's just age, right?
I can feel my heart rate start to kick up and I can't seem to catch my breath. What if something is really wrong and I can't play basketball any longer? What will I do? Basketball is everything. Except…lately I've been thinking about what it might be like to meet someone, start a family.
I mean it might be too late to meet someone, but starting a family? I could always do that by myself, no matter how hard it might be.
"Okay, I called the team doctor, and he definitely wants you to get an MRI," Rocky explains, walking back into the training room and breaking me out of my thoughts, or my spin out, whichever you want to call it.
"Sounds good. When?" I ask, trying to wrap my head around everything.
"Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.," he says. "But before you go, take these." He holds his hand out with two pain pills, waiting for me.
I grab them and quickly swallow them down before leaving the training room to get ready to go home, promising myself that I'll try not to worry about my back until I hear back from the doctor. Who am I kidding? I'm going to worry the whole time.
"Hey, everything okay?" a feminine voice breaks through the haze I'm in.
I look up at the person with the voice and see one of my best friends, Jessica, staring at me.
"Yeah, I think so," I mumble, not wanting to admit to anyone what is going on.
"Are you sure? You look a little pale," she says.
"I have to get my back checked out," I whisper to her, unable to keep it in.
"Ooh...that's rough. But I'm sure it will be okay," she says.
"Yeah maybe…" I say, letting my voice trail off. I'm not sure what else to say, because she could be right. But if she's wrongand my back is really hurt, there is a chance that I'll have to quit basketball and finally face my fears of figuring out my future.
I take a deep breath and try to push away the tears that want to break through. I turn my back to Jessica and begin to take my stuff out of my locker, ready to go home and forget about my back until it’s time to find out what's wrong.
Chapter 2
Diana
The next morning, my hands tremble as I drive myself to the hospital to meet with the doctors that the team employs. Not knowing what they might find is what's killing me. The unknown. I've never been great at not knowing or being able to see how things are going to work out. Letting out a sigh, I try to release the energy running through me, but it doesn't help. I'm not sure that I'll be able to get rid of this anxiety until I have some answers.
Once I park my car, I hurriedly walk toward the doctor's office. The moment I walk in, they take me back and instantly have me in the MRI machine. As soon as I enter the machine, my anxiety ramps up. Thankfully, I was able to close my eyes and focus onthe Office podcast that is blaring through the headphones they gave me.
It only takes one podcast to distract me before they're pulling me out. That has to be good, right? They didn't keep me in there for too long.
"There you are, Diana," a friendly, elderly nurse says. She reminds me of my grandmother and it quickly calms me.
"How did it go?" I ask as I climb off the table. I adjust my sweatshirt and cross my fingers in the hope that someone might slip up and give me a hint of what's going on.
"It went well. The doctor will receive your MRI and send it off to the team's medical staff," she explains without telling me anything.
Trying not to be disappointed, I nod my head and reply, picking up my purse that’s sitting on the chair across the room. "Sounds great. Thank you."
After my appointment, I decided to head over to the training center, because going home is not going to help me right now. If I go home and rest like everyone keeps telling me, all that's going to happen is me worrying about what the doctors might say. No, I don't need that.
I press down on the gas pedal and speed through Los Angeles, making it back to the facility in record time. Grabbing my gym bag, I know that the only thing that is going to help me is getting lost in shooting practice. No one else is at the facility yet, which means I won't be bothered.
I practice for an hour before I hear Rocky yell across the court, "Diana! You are supposed to be resting. What are you doing shooting right now?"
