Fuck. That’s six months away. He’s given me the estimates before, but I keep hoping for a miraculous recovery.
When I don’t say anything, he taps on his clipboard. “That’s a conservative estimate. I’d rather take things slow than move too quickly and risk getting hurt again.”
“Makes sense.”
“Technically, with your kind of injury, it can take between four to six months to return to training, and six to eight to return to competitive sports. Depends on the patient.”
Please let it be four months. I have to be ready to go when the season starts next fall.
“The good news is you’re done with crutches.”
Finally, something positive.
He pats me on the back. “Take it easy, Michael. The worst thing you can do is overexert yourself before you’re fully healed. Trust the process. Our physical therapist will go over the additional exercises I want you to do until our next appointment.”
“How much longer do I need to wear the brace?”
“Probably four more weeks, except during your stretches.”
After I’m done talking to the therapist, I jot down a few notes in my phone and ease off the table.
My dad hands me my coat. “About what we expected. Just gotta do what the doctor says. Slow and steady.”
Slow and steady sucks, but Dr. Curtis is right. I don’t want to injure my knee again.
“Wanna get some Dairy Queen?” my dad asks as he holds open the door.
I laugh. “It’s January.”
“Sounds like a good time for a Blizzard. Your mom doesn’t let me get them anymore. Says it’s bad for my cholesterol or something.”
Fuck it. “Yeah. Let’s get some ice cream.”
After we enjoy our desserts, he pulls up to my house. I lean over to give him a hug. “Thanks for coming, Dad. I appreciate you taking me to those appointments.”
My natural state is anxious as fuck, which I’ve mostly overcome through the years with sports and intense training, but now that I mostly sit on my ass, I’m getting reacquainted with that old state of mind.
“No problemo. Don’t tell Mom about Dairy Queen.”
“Ten-four.”
Instead of going home, I hobble across the street to Ben’s. It feels good to not need crutches, but I’m still terrified one wrong move will hamper my recovery.
Ben’s girlfriend Sienna opens the door, and a big smile lights her face. She wraps me in a hug and shouts, “Lily, look who’s here!” When she lets go, her head tilts pensively. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. How was Mexico?” She and Ben have been back for two weeks, but between me mostly staying with my parents and doctor appointments, I haven’t seen them since they went on vacation.
“Amazing.” She waves her engagement ring around. “So nice to traipse off with my fiancé.”
I chuckle. “Glad you guys got some time away. Lily missed you guys.”
“We missed her like crazy too.” She lowers her voice. “But I’m not going to lie, it was nice to get away with Ben for a bit. Thanks for helping Ben’s aunt and uncle while we were gone.”
“Didn’t do much. Just sat on your couch and iced my knee while Lily tried to get me to eat her half-chewed food.”
Out of my peripheral vision, I see a little head of hair zip past the coffee table. “Uncle Olly!” Lily wraps herself around my leg, and I laugh, grateful for the knee brace.
“Come here, monkey.” I scoop her up and kiss her chubby cheeks. “Did you tell Sienna about all those Disney movies you made me watch while she and your dad were away?”
