Page 107 of From Ice to Home
Coach squints down at her ID badge. “Kessler, huh.”
“We have to follow the protocol,” she says, ignoring me. “I need to complete his SCAT5 and balance tests before anything. He was unconscious and there are protocols we follow. We need to make sure everything is fine.”
“Everythingisfine,” I jump in. My opinion should matter in this case. “I wasn’t out that long.”
“You were dizzy sitting up,” the assistant trainer says, clearly trying to help, but I shoot him a glare that shuts him up fast.
He shrugs, backing up. “What? You were…”
Coach levels his gaze at him. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
The poor guy looks like he wants to melt into the floor. I almost feel bad for him.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. “I’m telling you I’m fine. I need to be back out there and the longer we stand here arguing, the more time I’m losing.”
“The NHL’s strict about head injuries,” Kessler says. “Losing consciousness, even briefly, is a red flag. I’m not putting him back out there unless he clears every part of this test. That’s not just my opinion, it’s the league’s mandate.”
Coach’s jaw works back and forth. I know that look. He’s weighing options. We’re one win away from holding the Cup.
“Coach,” I plead. “Anyone would be a bit out of it if they hit the goalpost head first. But I feel fine now. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then turns to her. “You have thirty minutes before the second period starts and he needs to go back on. I don’t care what you do, or how you do it, Lucas Walker will be on that ice in thirty minutes.”
Kessler doesn’t blink. The look on her face says there’s no way she’s making that promise.
“Walker,” Coach says. “Let the woman do her job. Lay back down or you’re not getting back out there. You doexactlywhat she tells you to do.”
“And you,” he says, turning to Kessler. “You do whatever you need to do to get my star player back out there for the second period.”
“No pressure,” the assistant trainer says.
Coach glares at him and he shrinks back. Coach opens the door only to find Hannah already on the other side.
“Luke!” Her eyes go wide as she rushes toward me. “Is he alright?” she asks the doctor. Hannah kneels beside the table, her hand sliding into my hair gently like she’s reading my vitals with her fingertips. I wince when she grazes the sore spot above my right ear.
“I’m fine, Sanders.”
Her gaze flicks over my face, concern written in her features. “You’renotfine,” she says softly. “You’re pale. And sweating.”
“That’s just the adrenaline from playing playoff hockey,” I try reassure her. By the look on her face, my attempt obviously failed.
“We need to do the assessment to make sure he’s cleared of all concussion symptoms,” Dr Kessler says. “And then we’ll take it from there.”
“I want to stay,” Hannah says, or rather declares not takingher eyes off me for a second. The doctor nods and gestures toward a chair in the corner of the room.
My heart aches knowing that she’s here, that I have someone by my side. I’m not going to worry about the outcome of the assessment.
Because I know how I feel.
I know what I’m capable of.
And I know what I believe. God would not bring me to this, if I wasn’t meant to be here.
They go through the assessment quickly, and according to me, I aced it. Hannah still looks a bit concerned, and it doesn’t make me feel better about the situation.
“Listen,” Dr Kessler says, stepping closer. “You had a bad hit. You might feel fine as you’re sitting here, but there’s a big chance that as soon as you go back out there, it’ll be too much for you. Not to mention the added risks of getting another injury. Something as small as getting hit into the boards might be catastrophic.”
I stare at the floor, the words coming from her mouth now bouncing around in the room like they’re not quite landing. It doesn’t make sense.
