Chapter 35
Jabari
As promised, I knock on the team doc’s hotel room the next morning. The deadbolt sounds, and the door swings open.
“Crank, come on in.”
My breaths are shallow as if that’ll get the pounding in my head to ease up. No matter how shallow or deeply I breathe, the steady throbbing continues. Why is it so bright in here?
My eyes automatically squint, and I kick myself for not wearing my shades.
“Have a seat, son. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“I feel like it too,” I mumble.
“Tell me what’s going on?” he asks softly.
Guess he noticed my wince every time his voice boomed out like the Wizard of Oz.
“I’ve had a headache since the team played New York.”
“Migraine?”
It is now. “Yeah,” I breathe out.
“Let me get my kit.”
He legit pulls out a bag that reminds me of a kid playing doctor. Only instead of a blue bag with a red logo on it, it’s black with what I think is the Warriors logo. I never paid attention to his bag before getting hurt.
“How’s your eyesight?”
“Really blurry.” I’m seeing double, not something I shared with Val, but Doc has to know. Otherwise, the whole purpose of this visit is moot.
“Look straight ahead.”
He flashes a light in my eyes, then gives me more instructions. I look up, down, left, then right. He palpitates different points on my head and finally steps back.
“Do you know why I’m having this headache?”
“No, but you need to call Four Eyes. It might be an eye issue. I’d like to take you in for a CT scan to make sure there’s nothing wrong with your noggin as well. Better safe than sorry.”
I’ve honestly had enough of all the doctors and scans, but he has a point.
“Fine.”
“Actually, I’ll call Four Eyes. Why don’t you go grab your wallet and anything else you need? I’ll make sure he meets us at the hospital.”
I hold up my wallet and phone. “Way ahead of you, Doc.”
“Then give me a sec.”
My eyes shut of their own accord. Or because the light keeps blinding me. Instead of emptying my mind, the urge to pray twinges in the center of my chest.
I’ve been attempting to pray here and there, to consider what I believe versus relying on what I’ve always been able to see.
Those attempts have felt paltry and anticlimactic, if I’m honest. But this is an overwhelming urge I can’t ignore.
Like my body will implode if I don’t comply, which feels a bit dramatic. Nonetheless, I do it.
God, it’s Jabari. I don’t know what You want me to pray about, but there’s this feeling that I should.
The word blind flashes in my head, and I freeze. Is He telling me I’m about to go completely blind? Fear grips me. Having declining vision is one thing, but not seeing a single thing is absolutely terrifying. Will Val leave if I can’t see anything at all?
Of course not. That’s not her nature.
Relief trickles through, but the gripping fear keeps a hold of me.
Pray.
God, I don’t want to lose my sight. I don’t want to be wholly reliant on others for what I can and can’t see.
Then again, I have become more dependent on others since the knock to my head. What would actually be different? I’d still probably count steps, but since I started memorizing where everything is, I’ve adapted.
Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I pray that if I do lose my sight, You’ll help me deal with it. I don’t want to walk in the dark alone, God.
And maybe that’s the point. I have been walking in darkness.
I’ve been without God my entire life. Not because I didn’t think He existed, just didn’t think He was necessary to my way of life.
Knowing Javier and Val has changed how I view God.
He’s given Val perfect peace. He’s helped Javier not succumb to the dark side of fame like so many others do.
What am I going to lose if I follow God wholeheartedly? More importantly, what do I gain?
Peace.
The word flashes in my mind, and calm settles my heart. Whatever’s going on with my head, God will walk with me. I won’t be lost to darkness because He’ll be my light. That simple thought rings true, and the tension in my shoulders eases.
Okay, God. I trust You. I believe You have my back. I promise to stop living on my own authority and submit to Yours.
“All right, Crank. Let’s hit the road.”
I open my eyes.
“Four Eyes will meet us at the hospital.”
“Sounds good.”
I don’t say anything on the way to the hospital. Thankfully, the hotel is nearby, so it only takes us a few minutes. Doc called ahead, and as a result, they take us right back to a private ER room. Soon, I’m sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed to the CT room.
Thank goodness I had the sense to text Val this morning and let her know I was meeting Doc. Though I should probably call her and let her know they’re making me do tests. I’ll have to do that when I get back to my room.
The CT is over quickly, and when I get my cell from Doc, he leaves the room, giving me some much-needed privacy.
“Good morning.” Val’s sweet voice comes over the line.
Serenity floods my heart. Talking to her is ten times better than composing a voice text. “Hey, I wanted to give you an update on my headaches.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“He brought me to the ER to get a CT to be safe. He doesn’t necessarily think I need one but wanted to cross all his tees.”
“Your head still hurts?”
“Yeah.” Worse than yesterday, but I leave that unsaid.
She sighs. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been praying since you mentioned it.”
“Me too. I appreciate your prayers.”
“Wait, did you just say, ‘me too’?”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Javier encouraged me to give it a try. In the beginning, it was really awkward. Now, the more I pray, the more at peace I am. I realized I wasn’t necessarily on the fence about if God was real, but more about attending church and how I live my life.”
“Is that why you’re going to Javier’s? To see if you just need a different fit?”
Yes and no.
“Originally it was because I hadn’t worked out my feelings about God, but I’m good now. So, yes, now I just want the right fit for a church.”
“Are you okay at the hospital?” Val asks cautiously.
“I’m great. Promise. Whatever happens here, I know God will take care of me.”
“Wow. I’m so glad to hear that. He’ll watch over you, but I pray there’s nothing wrong and He heals you of the headaches.”
“Val . . .” My voice trails off. Maybe I shouldn’t ask this question. Do I really want to know the answer?
“Yes?”
Ask her. “If they tell me I’m going blind”—I lick my lips—“do you still want to be with me?”
“No offense, but I’m not with you for your eyesight. You can’t see me now, so I’m not going to run if you end up completely blind.” Her voice is so matter of fact. As if my eyesight has never even entered the equation.
I close my eyes, thanking God for sending Val into my life at the right moment. “It doesn’t bother you at all that I can’t see you?”
“Just because you can’t see me with your eyes doesn’t mean you don’t see me. You said it yourself. I’ve never known anyone who gets me as much as you get me. Being able to truly be me is what I value, not your eyesight.”
“I do see you,” I whisper.
“And I see you. Plus, I plain like you, Jabari Hall. You make me laugh. You make me feel special. I’ve never felt this way in any of my past relationships.”
Good. She is special, and I want to be the one who makes her feel that way. I want to treasure her in all the ways I can for as long as she’ll let me.
The door opens and feet shuffle in.
“Hey, Doc just walked in. I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll be praying.”
We say our good-byes, and I hang up the phone.
“CT looks real good, Crank.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Not just good, but real good?”
“Yep. Remember the lesion on your occipital lobe from when the concussion happened?”
How could I forget? “Yeah.”
“It’s gone. Not sure why, but it’s gone.”
“Wait. Are you serious? What does that mean?” My heart speeds up.
“Not sure, but you’ll definitely want to follow up with your neurologist. Four Eyes is going to use the ER equipment to check out your eyesight. Then the docs here will prescribe some meds for the migraine.”
“Will it make me sleepy?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Will I be cognizant by game time? I’m supposed to schmooze a potential donor.”
Doc laughs at me. Whether it’s the words or my disgruntled expression, I can’t tell.
“You’ll be right as rain by then.”
“All right. I’ll take it.”
They give me the pills, then wheel me to another room used for eye patients. Four Eyes asks me a bunch of questions and then dilates my eyes for the exam.
“Just keep looking straight ahead.”
He takes pictures of my retinas and the backs of my eyes. When he’s finished, a tech takes me back to the ER room. The wait feels endless, but I’m trying to be patient. Will the optometrist have any more insight than Doc? Too bad I can’t fly my neurologist up here.
The sound of a knock jolts me in the hospital bed. When did I fall asleep? How long have I been sleeping? I press the button on my watch, and it voices the time to be eleven in the morning. So only about thirty minutes. Not horrible.
“Crank, I’ve got some news.”
I tense. If Four Eyes says you’re going blind, remember, you’ll handle it with God. I don’t want to make myself anxious again. Thankfully the pounding in my head has dulled enough for me to listen to the team optometrist.
“Lay it on me.”
“When we took retinal scans back in January, we saw signs of macular degeneration.”
“I remember. You said it has probably been there, but the occipital lesion exacerbated everything.” Or something to that effect.
“Right.”
“And now?” I ask.
“Crank, they’re not there anymore.”
I frown. “What do you mean? Have the spots taken over the retinas? Am I going blind?”
“No, no.” He lays a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you panic. I’m trying to say the damage we saw is gone. Almost like it never existed.”
Is he trying to suggest I’m healed? I blink and stare where his face should be. The face that’s blurred because of the dark spot and duplicated from the double vision.
“How can that be when my vision hasn’t changed? If anything, it’s worse.” Because even the good parts are affected now.
“It may feel that way, but physically, it’s not. Your eyes look good, almost like they’re healing themselves.”
“What does that mean for me?” I croak.
“We’ll keep monitoring the situation, loop your specialists into the conversation as well. According to the scans, you don’t actually have macular degeneration. The scans are immaculate and don’t look anything like the originals. I checked twice. Made sure it was your file I was looking at.”
My breath catches in my throat. Could God heal me? Does He still do miracles like that?
I scratch my head. “Um, okay. So now I just, what? Wait and see what happens?”
“As difficult as that’ll be, yes.”
There’s not much to say, and the ER doc discharges me with a prescription for the migraines.
I can’t wait to tell Val what happened, but even so, what exactly do I say? That my eyes physically look healthy even though I still can’t see her? That God might be healing me because my brain is lesion free?
Nah, I can’t lead with that. Maybe I should keep this to myself since my vision hasn’t changed. It seems premature to hope it will.
What do You want me to do, God? Whatever it is, I will.
But I don’t see a word flash in my mind nor hear a voice. Just a feeling to wait and see what happens, exactly like Four Eyes suggested.