Chapter 36
The following week, it was time to go back to see Dr. Jeranack for an update on my CT scan. I was feeling stronger, and the pain had improved somewhat, so I was hopeful for good news, but I asked Chris to come along to the appointment for moral support, just in case.
I looped my arm through his as we walked into the waiting room because my gait was not quite back to normal.
Once we arrived at the office, my mom signed me in at the front desk while we found a seat in the corner near the children’s toys.
The sound of a child playing with a wooden maze was taking my mind off the news that I may be about to receive.
As I sat there waiting, Chris held my hand, trying to calm my nerves.
As soon as the nurse called my name, I was suddenly overcome with anxiety, but I was eager to know the outcome.
“No matter what, it’s going to be okay,” he said as I sat on the exam table waiting for the doctor to arrive. I looked at him, then looked back at the floor, nervously. The wait felt like forever until Doctor Jeranack finally walked through the door.
“Hi Allie, sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s have you get off the table so I can have a look.
Can you walk for me?” he said, motioning for me to move across the room.
“I see you’ve brought your boyfriend with you.
Nice to see you again, too,” he said, smiling at Chris.
I winced as I got off the table, and Chris moved to help me, but the doctor signaled for him to stay put.
“I’m a lot better. See?” I said, as I walked across the room tenderly.
“Uh-huh,” he said, as he watched, and then put the CT scans onto the light board on the wall. “Well, Allie, I have some unfavorable news for you, I’m afraid.” I immediately felt like I was going to puke.
“What do you mean?” I asked in a panic.
“It looks like your L-2 and L-3 spinal processes in your back are not healing quite like I want them to, and the damage in your hip is more extensive than I initially expected, but there was too much bleeding and swelling for me to see on the MRI when you first came in to the ER,” he said with a sympathetic look.
“We will keep monitoring you. Let’s get you in to do some physical therapy to get you back on the right track to recovery.
I know that’s not the news you wanted,” he said, then he stood there, waiting to see if I had any questions.
“Are you saying my field hockey career is over?” I asked, as I shot a panicked look to Chris and then my mom.
“Allie, I’m not saying you can’t play again one day, but not right now.
You’ve got a long road to recovery ahead, and I can’t say when you’ll be back to the same performance level that you once were.
I’m so sorry,” he said, then he took a step forward and squeezed my shoulder before walking out of the room.
I looked at my Mom, then at Chris, and my eyes welled up with tears as the news sank in.
He said my field hockey career was over.
That meant no Wake Forest. That meant my Dad’s prophecy would come true.
That meant I was a failure. Chris must have been reading my mind because he pulled me in for a hug.
“He didn’t say you wouldn’t play again. He said it would just take time, baby,” he said.
I pulled away and then slammed my hands over my eyes as I burst into tears. “You don’t understand. This is all that I’m good at.” I replied through muffled sobs.
“That’s not true,” he said, as he reached his hands to my wrists and gently tried to bring my hands down from my face, then he lowered his head to meet my tear-filled gaze.
“I’ll help you apply to other colleges. You’ll see.
” Then he pulled me into another hug and held me until the tears subsided and I was ready to leave.
I think my mom was grateful that someone understood how to comfort me. Emotions made her uncomfortable.
Once we got home, Chris helped me to my room while my mom had to make the dreaded call to Coach Avery at Wake Forest to let her know the situation.
Coach Avery regretfully let my mom know that she would have to withdraw the scholarship and extended her deepest condolences for a speedy recovery.
When my mom hung up the phone, the devastation crept back in, and Chris had to console me all over again.
As I lay there in bed, cuddled in his arms, Dave Matthews Band’s So Damn Lucky came softly through the speakers.
“Turn that up, please,” I said, nuzzling my head into his chest.
He reached across me to get the remote off the nightstand. It was sitting on top of the marble box.
“What’s in here?” he asked.
“Open it,” I said, my face still buried into him. I was in too much emotional and physical pain to move. I heard the clink of the marble lid that he had just set back down onto the base of the box, then he rolled back over with my flattened penny between his fingers.
“You’ve kept it beside your bed, all this time?” he asked, turning it over in his fingers.
“Of course. It was the only thing I had left of you,” I said, as I buried into him tightly.
“Actually,” he said, as he gently untangled himself from me, then got up from my bed and walked towards my dresser.
I turned over slightly and followed him with my eyes to make sure he didn’t leave.
I hadn’t noticed that he had brought his backpack with him.
He dropped a knee to the floor, unzipped it, and reached inside, then looked up at me.
“This belongs to you,” he said as he pulled out his green hoodie with PATTON on the back.
Then he zipped up his bag, stood up, and sat on the edge of the bed, his hoodie in his hands.
“I wanted to give this to you on Christmas, but I wasn’t sure that you wanted it.
Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “I love you.”
“If you give that to me, it will destroy me if you ever ask for it back,” I said, softly.
“Come here,” he said, as he held it open for me to carefully dive into.
“I don’t ever want it back, unless you’re in it,” he said, as he came in closer, his mouth grazing inside the hood against my ear.
“Preferably naked.” Then he reached up under the hoodie to gently caress the fullness of my naked breasts as he lay me back down into the pile of pillows and kissed me, bundled up in his green hoodie, where I was always meant to be.
We lay there, cuddled close, as his warm hands rubbed my bare skin, until my eyes grew heavy with sleep from the drugs.
“I think I need to take a nap, I’m still hurting,” I said, as he pulled his hand from under the hoodie and ran it through the waves of my hair.
“Get some rest, I’ll be here working on college essays,” he said, as he got up off the bed and reached for his backpack. Then I rolled over and drifted off to sleep.
That afternoon, after my nap, he helped me search for new schools to apply to.
I submitted applications to schools all over the southeast with various programs of interest, and crossed my fingers that someone would accept me, despite my mediocre grades.
Now that they were submitted, all I could do was wait.
I was grateful for Chris helping me stay focused on writing essays and get teacher recommendations.
My options for schools weren’t as long as his, but if none of them come through, I could take a year off, focus on physical therapy, and try again in the spring.
The next few weeks of waiting for replies would be glacial.