Page 28 of Check & Chase
He makes a noncommittal noise, which I choose to interpret as agreement.
“Pain scale, one to ten?”
“Three.”
I frown.
“Fine, five. But only when I put weight on it.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t be putting weight on it.” I pull on latex gloves and reach for his knee. “I’m going to remove the brace to check the swelling and tissue response. This might be uncomfortable.”
“I trust you,” he murmurs, and something in his tone makes me glance up. His eyes are steady on mine, unexpectedly sincere.
I clear my throat and focus on the task at hand, carefully removing the brace. The swelling is significant but not alarming, the skin discoloredwith bruising. I probe gently around the joint, watching his face for signs of pain.
“Tell me if anything feels particularly tender.”
He watches me work, unusually quiet. When I hit a sensitive spot on the inside of his knee, he inhales sharply but doesn’t pull away.
“There?”
“Yeah.” His voice is tight. “That’s where it popped.”
I nod, continuing my assessment. His skin is warm beneath my gloved fingers, the muscle definition impressive even in his injured state. I test his passive range of motion, bending his knee carefully.
“The good news is there doesn’t appear to be any additional damage to the other ligaments or meniscus,” I tell him. “The MCL has good blood supply, so it typically heals well without surgery if given proper time and rehabilitation.”
“And the bad news?”
“You’re still looking at six weeks minimum before you can return to play.” I replace the brace, securing it properly. “And that’s assuming you do as you’re told.”
Chase is quiet for a moment, a shadow crossing his face. “We’re playing the Wolves on Friday. Season opener. I should be out there.”
For the first time since I met him, I see a crack in his confidence—a glimpse of genuine vulnerability that catches me off guard.
“There will be other games,” I say, softening my tone slightly.
“Not like this one. We’ve been preparing for this match-up all summer.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “Donovan’s a great captain, but we need every advantage against the Wolves.”
“Even you at a hundred percent couldn’t guarantee a win, Chase.”
“No, but I’d rather be out there trying than stuck being useless.”
As much as I want to maintain my professional distance, I can’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy. Athletes define themselves by their ability to perform.
“Let’s focus on what we can control,” I suggest, reaching for a resistance band. “The sooner we start, the sooner you’ll be back on the ice.”
He nods, visibly pulling himself together. “What’s first?”
I talk him through a series of gentle isometric exercises designed to maintain muscle tone without stressing the injured ligament. To my surprise, Chase follows my instructions perfectly, his focus absolute as he performs each movement exactly as demonstrated.
“Good,” I comment when we finish the first set. “Now we’ll work on some gentle mobility.”
“Already done more than I expected today,” he admits. “The team’s previous PT would have just had me icing it at this stage.”
“Different philosophies. I believe in active recovery right from the start.” I demonstrate the next exercise. “The key is finding the balance between rest and movement.”
“Where did you train?”
