Dr. Mendelson leaned back with his hands on his hips, pressed his lips together and stared down at Robert’s swollen knee, worry lines deep across his forehead.
The doctor’s stoic reaction and hesitance sent a wave a fear through Robert. “It’s not my ACL, is it, Doc?” He lifted his leg from the exam table and tried to demonstrate his range of motion, but, this time, the involuntary wince couldn’t be camouflaged, and he almost cried out. “I just need to ice it a little more and then do hot compresses. Right?”
The doctor raised his brows skeptically. “I think you need a little more than ice and hot compresses, but let’s see what the MRI has to say.” He tapped a few keys on his laptop and studied the screen with consternation. Hunched over in his chair, the doctor’s expression became pensive, and Robert began to worry that the results weren’t good.
Tension knotted Robert’s belly with each painstaking second while he waited for the final determination that would decide his fate. If he needed surgery, he would be out for the entire season, and it gutted him.
Dr. Mendelson finally turned away from his computer. “You’re in luck, Mr. Blade. It’s just a soft tissue injury.” He tapped on his keyboard again. “I’ll have a script phoned in for muscle relaxers, and Miss Rhodes will get you a script for physical therapy.” He clapped his laptop shut. “Stay off the field until our next visit. I think that should do it.” The doctor re-wrapped Robert’s leg in a tight bandage and shook his hand before leaving the office.
Relieved, Robert practically collapsed on the exam table. He didn’t know how many times his body could take a hit or a fall of the magnitude like the one he just took, but it didn’t slow him down one bit. He turned into a bulldozer once he was on the field, and nothing stopped him.
He wobbled into the waiting room where he relayed the good news to his best friend, who was kind enough to drive him to the doctor’s office since his leg wasn’t working too well at the moment.
“That was a close one.” Manny let out a breath. “You need to take it down a notch, bro. You worry me. It’s hard to watch you play sometimes.”
Robert displayed a wide smile. “You sound like my mother.”
“I feel like it.”
Even though Robert had a cane for assistance, Manny insisted on supporting him with an arm around his waist while they walked through the lobby. The two were a comical pair as Manny struggled under Robert’s large, muscular frame, but the guy was trying his best.
“Maybe if you’d let me walk on my own you wouldn’t feel that way,” Robert told his friend. They teetered through the doorway together. “Or fall.”
“I gotcha.”
While Robert waited on a bench in front of the hospital for Manny to pull the car around, he sat with his leg extended. In this position, the pain was barely noticeable, but the swelling, evident under the loose-fitting sweats, told a different story. He’d been lucky, not just today, but in his career. And he had two Super Bowl rings to prove it.
Injuries were a given in professional sports, especially for someone who played the offensive line as hard as he did. But, so far, he’d escaped the need for surgery or any real time off the field. Gratitude filled his heart, and he credited his good fortune to his mother’s prayers.
“Car for Robert Blade,” Manny called through the open window when he pulled up. He rounded the car and opened the passenger door, as if he were driving a chauffeured vehicle.
Robert raised his finger. “That’s me.” He waited because he needed assistance just to get up from the bench.
Once again, Manny supported Robert’s weight and helped him into the car.
“You’re a lifesaver, Manny. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Manny waved his hand dismissively. “You got over a dozen pretty girls you could call who’d drop everything at a moment’s notice for the Bucks’ number-one player.”
It was true, but none of them meant anything to Robert, and he didn’t know if they’d be so accommodating if he weren’t a prized professional athlete. “But they’re not you, bro.”
“It’s the least I can do. I wouldn’t have graduated without you. Rutgers was tough.”
“That’s because you were too busy partying your ass off every night.”
“You were right there beside me, with a girl on each knee, but you aced through your classes.”
“What can I say? Math speaks to me. Which is a good thing, because that means I know what to do to get better: follow the doctor’s orders, take my meds, and go to physical therapy. It’s a formula, and it all adds up to me being back on the field.”
“Don’t overdo it. Don’t go back unless your one hundred percent.”
“Now you sound like Coach.” It reminded Robert that he needed to call Coach and give him the positive prognosis, and he pulled out his phone.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Coach bellowed, after Robert explained the doctor’s assessment of his injury and treatment plan. “We need you, Blade. The team is counting on you. We’re lost without you.”
Praise fueled Robert’s ego, and the pressure to be there for his team gave him the drive he needed to get better. “I’ll be back in no time. This is just a minor setback.”
“That’s the right attitude. Just make sure you don’t push yourself too hard. We want you to get better, not worse.”
