I’ve been sick for most of this season. It’s not a big deal, everyone has been struck down by something these last few months. It’s a thing going around, a bug, a virus - whatever.
Last week I went to physical therapy for my knee. (I tore my ACL last July and had surgery to repair it in September - rehab is set to be over a year because I’m an old.) I started to pedal on the exercise bike and burst into a coughing fit that had me seeing stars. The PTs, who I have a solid relationship with, demanded that I go to urgent care and chided me for even going to the appointment if I was that sick. They asked me my symptoms and I told them I had a fever this weekend and coughed up a little blood. I tried to laugh it off.
Then I saw their faces.
I got in my car and drove to Urgent Care. All I heard was, “It could be a blood clot…” before everything started to grey out around me. I drove to the ER. One of my player’s moms was working at the hospital at the time and expedited me through the process. They took three vials of my blood from an IV. Stuck a ton of EKG tabs on my chest; logged the data. Then they sent me for a chest X-Ray.
Then I sat in a chair for hours.
A lot of things went through my mind in that chair.
What am I doing? I’m not sick. This is dumb.
Wait. What if I am sick? How sick could I be?
What if it’s something really bad?
Well, whatever it is - I’m still going to coach this game.
I could have very easily not been okay.
I could have had a blood clot. Or a serious respiratory infection. Or cancer.
But luckily - it’s just bronchitis.
I got into my car, still in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and drove to my game. I got to the field 10 minutes before the opening face-off. The boys cheered when I walked onto the field. I pumped my arms and let out a guttural yell. It was performative. I felt horrible. But I walked with my head and chest high, suppressing as many coughing fits as I could.
Before the game started I gave my hype up speech.
“Fellas! I’ve been sitting in the hospital for hours! They ran a lot of tests, took my blood, and ran tests. After it was all done I sat down with the doctor. He told me a lot of things but the only thing that mattered was that I was going to be okay. So, I just said, “Get this thing out of my arm- I have a game to go coach!”
Big pop. Pushing, shoving, jumping, yelling.
HAWKS ON THREE - ONE, TWO, THREE - HAWKS!
We won. I walked to my car. I drove home, walked in the door, didn’t even turn the lights on, and sat on my couch. My head fell into my hands.
I wonder if these kids know what they mean to me.
I can’t let them down.
Go Hawks.