Chapter 36 #2
“Okay, this is going to hurt, but we have to get you up. Think you can do that?” Coach suddenly said near my side.
I knew I had to get up and off this field. My family was watching, and I knew I needed to get up and walk off, even if it hurt like hell. Gritting my teeth, I gave him a short nod.
With a hand still curled around my ribs, I closed my eyes as the on-field medics counted down. I knew the pain was coming, but it took everything I had not to let my knees buckle when they all helped me off the ground.
The only reason I stayed standing was the fact that thousands of people were watching. I didn’t want my mom to worry if I was carted off the field.
I didn’t hear what else was said as two people on both sides of me helped me slowly walk.
Passing players offered words of encouragement.
I gritted my teeth as every breath sent shooting pain up my side.
Thankfully, the reporters in the tunnel kept their distance, their cameras clicking away as I was led past.
It all kind of passed in a blur as the two medics brought me to the medical room that was situated down the hall from the locker room. I wasn’t sure how I got myself in the chair when all I felt was intense pain.
I either had broken ribs or really bruised ones. Whichever it was, my side was on fire.
“Just hang tight for a minute. Doctor Clements is on his way.”
“I’ll be here,” I joked, because what else was I supposed to do in a situation like this?
It’d been a really long time since I got hurt to this degree. Sure, a few muscle tears here and there, some hyperextension, but to be taken out in the middle of the game… That never happened.
There wasn’t much else to do but sit and wait for the team's doctor to come. I tried to distract myself with something other than the pain. My mind flitted to my family, hoping my mom wasn’t trying to book a flight here. Then my mind went to Emmie.
I thought back to an early morning about a month ago, the two of us lying in bed, her draped across my chest and running my fingers through her soft hair. She was dead asleep, mumbling under her breath.
The ache in my chest at the memory was worse than the pain in my side. How bad I wished I could go back to the moment and not let her leave.
Before I could fall back into the pain of losing Emmie, Doctor Clements walked in. Followed by the team's assistant coach, Liam.
“How are you doing, Mateo?”
“I’m perfect,” I said through my teeth.
“Let's have a look.”
The next few minutes, he poked and prodded me.
Pretty sure he was a sadist as he moved me in different positions, the pain in my ribs so intense I was close to whimpering.
Thanks to the state-of-the-art facility here at the Titans’ stadium, the medical room had an x-ray machine.
It meant I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital—hopefully.
“Well, good news, you didn’t break anything, and there’s no internal bleeding,” Doctor Clements started.
“And the bad?”
“Bad news is you bruised four of your ribs and may have torn a few muscles in between. So while it's nothing serious, you’ll be in quite a lot of pain for a while. Bruised ribs take time to heal,” he explained.
“So, what does that mean exactly?” Coach Liam asked.
“Mateo will be out for a few weeks to give him time to heal. I can prescribe ibuprofen to help with the pain, but other than ice and heat, there isn’t much we can do.”
I took a measured breath. “Do you think I can come back after the bye week?”
“We’ll have to see.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “For now, let's get you some pain meds and ice on those ribs. You need to ice it for the next three days, and then on and off for twenty minutes afterward.”
While he explained, one of the field medics moved toward the giant freezer in the back corner of the room.
“Let’s get you out of your uniform so we can get ice on you. This will hurt, but try to take small breaths so you don’t put pressure on your chest.”
With Coach Liam, the medic, and the doc helping me, I managed to peel off my jersey and pads.
Every moment sent a fresh wave of pain through my ribs.
By the time I finally sat back with ice wrapped around my side, I felt every bit of that hit as sweat ran down my back.
Getting steamrolled by a 240-pound man was not for the weak.
The sound of loud voices and cleats on the pavement came through the doorway. It must be halftime.
“I’ll go get Coach Reggie.” Coach Liam patted my shoulder before he left, leaving one medic with me.
I closed my eyes, trying not to spiral at the fact I was out for the next two weeks, at a minimum. The idea of it being longer almost felt worse than my ribs. Without football, what was I going to do?
I focused on the cold, afraid that breathing too deep would make things worse. The hum of the fluorescent lights above filled my head. The sound of voices outside blurred together for a second before one stuck out.
“WHERE IS HE? IF YOU DON’T LET ME THROUGH I SWEAR TO GOD—”
That voice. I’d know it anywhere.
I frowned, trying to sit up. “Emmie?”