Chapter 18 – David
“Doc please,” I say, holding my phone up in front of me so I can see the doctor’s face.
“David, in my professional opinion you need to rest for a minimum of two weeks, but ideally, four would be better.”
“That’s not going to happen. I have another race in a week. After that, I have a two-week break. I can rest then,” I say.
“I mean rest, David. No high impact exercises at all. You can do some low impact exercises. Swimming would be the best,” the doctor tells me again.
“Doc, I just need to get to the end of the season, and I’m going to call it quits. This has to be my body’s way of telling me to give up.”
“We’ve gone over this, and I disagree. This is not a career ending diagnosis. You have shin splints; they’re completely curable. If you take the necessary steps. Which you’re not.”
“Because I can’t right now. You must understand that,” I say.
“If you don’t follow my instructions, you could end up with stress fractures in your bones, and then, instead of two to four weeks, you’re looking at six to eight weeks, and are going to be in more pain than what you have now.”
“It’s a risk that I’m willing to take,” I tell him.
“Fine, carry on with icing your legs, ideally, every twenty minutes, for two to three hours, and painkillers.”
“I don’t want to take painkillers; they could impair my judgement in the car,” I state.
“In that case, use an ibuprofen gel. That will help with any swelling. Also, please tell your physio. They will be able to help with warm up exercises.”
“Thanks doc,” I say, but I can see that the doc isn’t happy with me. I’m not going to tell him that the pain has gotten worse recently.
“Take care of yourself, David,” he says, hanging up the call.
I have no idea how on earth I’m going to be able to avoid other members of the team after a race.
I could probably manage two hours, but there is no way that I’m going to be able to do three.
And now, I have a feeling that Rich is on to me.
That text earlier was completely out of the blue.
He has never wanted to see me so soon after a race.
Picking up a couple of ice packs, I place them on the front of my legs and set a timer for twenty minutes.
This will take me to the two-hour mark, and I’m going to have to leave the sanctity of my bedroom, and go and see others.
Even though I said I didn’t want to, I’m going to have to put some of the gel on.
That jump into the team wasn’t the best idea.
There was a silver lining of being forced to sit for twenty minutes at a time. It gives me time to study the tracks, and the next one we have is Brazil. There are a lot of turns on this track that I know are going to put my body in undue stress.
The pain in my legs started after Singapore.
At first, I thought it was nothing, especially as it eased after the race, but, of course, we had a month off, and I was taking it easy.
My training has been to just keep my fitness up.
That all changed after I pushed myself on the treadmill. The pain hadn’t gone away.
What I should have done was go to Daniel and tell him that I injured myself.
I didn’t. Instead, I went and found a private doctor who confirmed that I have shin splints.
I had laughed when he told me this and he had given me quite a look.
I explained that I thought that was an injury that affected runners.
The doctor confirmed that normally it was, but it occurs when overworking the muscles and bone tissue in the legs.
I have followed the instructions on how to treat them, and it had been working, but I haven’t been doing it religiously since Austin. Especially with everything that was happening with Rich, and now the pain was back.
But I took this as a sign. My age was catching up with me. I hadn’t heard of other drivers suffering from this, and I was going to listen to my body and retire at the end of the season. Give my body the rest that it was obviously craving.
Four races, that’s all I need to get through. I had managed to survive two. Yes, the pain had gotten worse, but I could cope. I can do this. I know I can do this, and maybe, just maybe, if I get the world title before the end of the season, I will ease up. I know that will help.
Tapping the screen on my mobile, I check to see how long I have left on my timer – ten minutes. Maybe I’ll try and make up for blowing Richard off earlier. Seeing him in the crowd after winning had been so good, and maybe I can figure out if he knows anything.
D: Want to meet for some food in fifteen minutes?
I’m sure we could have food together. Plus if anyone was to ask, I can just say that he was talking to me about the upcoming season.
I keep looking at my phone, waiting to see the words ‘Rich is typing’ but they never appear.Rich always has his phone close by, and I can see that it’s been read. So why isn’t he replying?
A knock on the door forces me to put down my mobile, and I debate not going to answer it. I still need to ice my legs, but then the knock comes again, and I know that I’m going to have to answer it. I’m sure finishing the treatment early by a few minutes is going to be fine.
Getting off the bed, I open the door to see Jasper standing there with a bag in his hand that frankly smells delicious.
“You will see us now,” Jasper states, and I’d recognise that voice anywhere. “Get in.”
From nowhere, Richard appears and rushes past me into the room, quickly followed by Jasper, and I don’t like the look on either of their faces, as I quickly shut the door, and turn to face them.
“Sit,” Jasper demands, pointing to the chair next to him, but I’m not going to let him control me. Not anymore. He doesn’t have that right.
“No,” I say, trying to stand up to him, but wincing when some pain lances through my leg. I really do need to sit down, but my pigheadedness keeps me standing.
Jasper doesn’t say anything more, but looks around the room. Richard hasn’t said anything, he’s just standing there staring at me, but his face is laced with concern.
“Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” I say to him.
“Yes. It seems to be the only way to get answers from you,” Richard says. I open my mouth to argue with him, but the look he shoots me says that’s probably not the wisest thing.
“Jasper, what are you looking for?” I ask, trying to get him to look over to me, because, as of yet, he hasn’t spotted the two ice packs on the bed, or the ibuprofen gel, and I wonder if I can get over to the bed and hide them under a blanket before he sees them.
“These.” Jasper announces, as he spots said items on the bed. Did he hear me thinking about them?
“I pulled a muscle on the drive today. Was icing it.” But they don’t believe me.
“Bullshit,” Jasper says. “We saw you at the end of the race. You were in pain and hid it.”
“You know, having the pair of you analysing me is going to get tiring very quickly,” I snap over to them.
“Dave, we’re not doing that,” Rich starts. “We just know that you’re hiding something.”
“So, what, you decided to come and play good cop, bad cop?” Pointing over to Jasper.
“Do not push me, David,” Jasper states.
“I’m not your sub anymore,” I spit back, which seems like a slight contradiction, considering mine and Rich’s reactions to him last week.
“No, you’re not. You’re my friend, and his boyfriend,” Jasper replies, but the tone of his voice never changes. He’s doing it to get his point across.
“Please, baby,” Rich says, coming over to me and taking my hand. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Shin splints,” Jasper states. “That explains the ice packs and gel.”
“How the…” wondering how on earth he knew, but when I look over to him, I see my mobile in his hand, “that’s private. How the hell did you get into it?” The bastard.
“Tried your pin from fifteen years ago, got lucky,” he replies, like he hasn’t just invaded my privacy.
“You have no right.” I’m so pissed at the pair of them.
“Does Daniel know?” Jasper asks, completely ignoring my statement. But at least, for the first time since he came into the room, he has calmed down a little.
“No. Just me and my doctor,” I tell them, because I know they’re not going to let the matter drop.
“But the team doctor would have told Vincent. Advised you to rest,” Richard voices, looking over to me.
“If it was the team doctor he went to see,” Jasper adds.
“Jesus Christ, Dave!” Richard exclaims, “If Vincent finds out he will lose his shit.”
“I have no intention of Vincent finding out. I just need to get Brazil done and then I’m going to rest before Vegas.”
“This is why you’re quitting?” Rich suddenly says.
“I’m not quitting. I’m retiring,” I tell them.
“Over shin splints, what a pathetic reason to retire,” Jasper voices.
“Don’t you think this is my body’s way of telling me to relax?”
“No, I don’t. I think this is your body’s way of saying you have been pushing yourself too much,” Jasper replies.
“I needed to push myself, look at the difference in my driving,” I reply.
“And look what has happened. You have injured yourself,” Rich retorts back.
“Proof that my body isn’t up to the task at hand. If I just keep going, I can get the championship. I will end my career on a high.”
“The championship isn’t worth this pain, or potentially being laid up for eight weeks,” Rich says, his tone taking on a gentler tone. I don’t think he’s as pissed as he was.
“How do you....” I ask, wondering how he knows what the healing time is for the worst-case scenario.
“You’re not the first driver, and won’t be the last, to get an injury like this,” Rich explains. “Which is why I don’t understand your thinking?”
“Are you going to tell Vincent?” I ask.
“You know I should. This is putting me in a very difficult position, but it could also lead to more questions. Namely, how the hell I figured it out,” Richard replies.