. . .
Mason
My current shittymood was brought to me by the sterile scent of chlorine burning my nose, paired with the fluorescent lighting that always managed to give me a headache, and the fact that I had been waiting over an hour for my doctor to show up. Like most people, I had never loved going to the doctor’s office. My disdain only grew after my injury; coming in day after day to have tests run on me like a lab rat, only to be told that I would never play hockey again, didn’t exactly make me feel any better. Still, I force myself to go to my check-up appointments because, at the end of the day, you only have one head. I may not have taken care of it before, but at least I can try now.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long Mason.Somehow I got double booked.” My neurologist, Tabitha, gives me a sheepish smile as she enters the room.
“S’all good.”
“So how have you been since the last time I saw you?”
“About the same. Every now and then, I’ll get a migraine or wake up feeling super dizzy which lingers the whole day.” Those are the moments where I feel the most resentment about my retirement. Some days, I can convince myself that I just need some more time to recover, and eventually, I’ll play again. Then symptoms return, and I’m reminded of how unlikely that pipe dream is.
“And how long do those last?”
“Migraines usually go away in like an hour or so. Dizziness goes away the next day. I take my pain meds when I need them.”
“And that seems to help?” I give her a nod. “Good, good. Any recent accidents?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re avoiding any sports with physical contact?” she presses.
“Yup. I’m coaching hockey now, but I’m never involved in the drills. Just demonstrate what to do and let my players handle it.”
“Be sure to keep it that way. Well, it sounds like things are going well. Unfortunately, in some cases of post-concussion syndrome, migraines and dizziness persist for a while. We’ll continue to keep an eye on it, and if anything gets worse, call the front desk to get you scheduled earlier.”
“Will do Doc.”
I leave the doctor’s office feeling even shittier than when I entered. I knew I was injured, and so did everyone (including millions of strangers I’d never met before), but it never got easier hearing how broken beyond repair you were. A distraction right now would be great. Luckily for me, my phone starts ringing.
“You would think after living in New York for nearly eight years I’d be used to the cold, but I swear every year this shitcatches me off guard.” Connor had just gotten back from playing a series of away games on the West Coast where the weather was much warmer. It seems the first thing he wanted to do when he got home was call me and complain. “I don’t know how or why people decide to move to the Northeast and stay here. Do they hate the sun? And happiness? Is that it?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“I went to pick up a coffee yesterday after a shower, and by the time I got back to my apartment, my hair was frozen — like icicle frozen.”
“Next time wear a beanie.” I quip.
“Your answer to preventing my frostbitten scalp is a beanie? You’re as bad as the rest of them.” I can practically hear his eyes roll through the phone. “I also got hit with a gust of wind so cold I swore my balls tucked into my stomach. I don’t know how many more winters I have in me.”
“Well, you are coming up on the end of your contract soon. You could always see if you could go back home. Or at least somewhere warmer.” Though I’d be really surprised if the Rangers didn’t re-sign him. Beyond them not having the salary space to give him a contract that he deserves, I don’t see a reason why Connor would leave.
“Yeah, I just don’t know if I want to go through all of that. Adjusting to a new team is hard enough when it’s just players coming in and out, add moving across the country to a place I’ve never lived before. It’s a hassle.”
“Sounds like we just need to get you a better winter coat then. And maybe some beanies.”
“Fuck off.”
“Hey, you were the one who called me, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t pretend like you don’t miss me too.”
“Who are you again?…Cody, was it?”
“Is that any way to speak to the guy receiving a philanthropy award?”
“Depends. Is the philanthropy for scalp frostbite awareness?”
