“This a pivotal moment in your life, Jett. Trust me, I’ve been there. You think your life is forever set when you’re at the top of your game and the money is flowing, but then a life-changing event happens that rocks your entire world–and today is that event. When I was leading the Saints, I went out with a back injury for six weeks and by the time I recovered someone took my slot. Now I’m coaching quarterbacks instead of being one.”
“That won’t happen to me.”
“That’s what I said too.”
“What am I supposed to do? I’ve put everything on the line for this team since I’ve gotten here, and now my collarbone is broken. It’s not fair. How can I stop them from replacing me?”
“Nothing is fair about this game. A lot of it is luck, but what you can control is theotherwork you need to do. The internal stuff. Just rest and heal, lie low, do what the docs tell you, and stay under the radar. Don’t you paint or some artsy shit like that?”
I nod my head yes. Few people know this about me, but I enjoy painting as a release from the physicality of football. Give me some tubes of Old Holland oil paints and a few brushes and I’m a happy man.
“And quit fighting with the media all the time. Stop giving them shit to write about. The front office will take notice and you’ll be more likely to have a job when you’re ready to return.”
Trent stops talking when the doctor returns and I remain silent myself as the Doc wraps my shoulder and arm in a bandage then rests it in a sling.
Lie low.
Be quiet.
Stay under the radar.
I’m Jason Jett Caraway, one of the most highly recognizable athletes of the year. That’s going to be virtually impossible for me. But to keep doing the one thing that I eat, shit and breathe?
I’ll give it my best shot.
Three
ADRIENNE
“Are you all right?”
“Just a kick in the gut,” I tell Penny, the nursing supervisor of Mercy West’s pediatric clinic. “I’ll be fine.”
“I should have sent Mary in there with you. She could have held the little demon down.”
I chuckle lightly. My last patient of the day is one of my favorites. He’s an intelligent little seven-year-old boy with a bright smile and a bad reputation. He hates inoculations and the doctors and nurses in the clinic loathe giving them to him. Every year without fail he kicks someone straight in the gut, and this year I’m the lucky one.
“He’s a strong one, but I’ll survive.”
I finish my last patient chart and hand it to Penny for filing.
“Dr. Hodges, do you have any idea when they’re going to finally transition us to a fully digitized record keeping system?”
“Dr. Hart has a meeting with the hospital to discuss it next week.”
“Discuss it?” she says, unconvinced.
“It’s a budget issue.” I sigh. “In this economy, the hospital has to be careful about any non-budgeted spending. It has to make sense.”
“Sure, I understand.”
Penny sounds disappointed and I totally understand why. I admittedly feel the same way. The “changes” they promised me were coming when I was selected for a residency in the pediatric department of Mercy West Family Medicine differ greatly from what’s actually come to fruition.
I’m in no position to question the system, though. I am a resident who is hoping for a permanent spot with the hospital, preferably here at the clinic. So I keep my head down, I work long hours and pray that I am making a difference for all the little patients that I see.
I check the time on my phone and then slide it in my purse. I’m actually going to make it home early for once in three months. My fiancé, Troy, is going to be so excited to have dinner at a normal hour. We don’t technically live together but he spends a great deal of time at my apartment because we both work in New York City but he lives across the river in New Jersey, so it’s just easier for him to stay over my place a couple of nights a week.
“You have plans with that sweet fiancé of yours tonight?”
