Chapter 32: Callaghan
G
rowing as a person takes a lot of work. I’m much more used to working on my physical self than my emotional self. Lucky for me, I’ve got spare time. I’m doing my rehab religiously, and the shoulder is improving. My PT has me out for two more weeks, which means I’ll get to start training again the first week in April. In the meantime, I’m going to practices and working with CC and Max. But I don’t have the grueling workout schedule I normally would have at this point in the year.
It’s kind of nice. I can’t believe I’m admitting that. Three months ago, I could never have imagined a life that wasn’t one hundred percent soccer, one hundred percent of the time.
This is the longest I’ve ever been sidelined in my career. It’s probably the universe’s way of teaching me about balance. If you’d asked me before what it was, I’d say it had to do with not falling over, and that I had very good skills in that area.
But what I didn’t realize was my life was totally out of balance. It was all soccer and nothing else. And while I lamented that fact, I did nothing to change it. To even the scales so to speak. Now that my hand has been forced, I can see what I’ve been missing out on all these years.
One of the best parts about having a little more time is getting tapped to do public appearances for the Buzzards. Dare I say, they’ve actually been fun. I’ve done some press interviews, served coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts drive-through, and even donated a pint of blood at an American Red Cross bloodmobile. That’s something I’d never have been able to do while I was actively training.
I wasn’t even supposed to donate that day, but after reading the promotional materials, I knew I had to. There was a story of a guy whose car was broadsided by a dump truck, and he lost 60 percent of his blood. He received over thirty-six transfusions while in the hospital. He’s now an Ironman triathlete.
Though his story inspired me, I couldn’t help but think about Hannah while I was on the table with needles in my arm. What she must have gone through when she was sick. I’ve looked up sepsis. It’s nasty. And scary. It doesn’t discriminate between young or old, sick or healthy. Hannah’s lucky to have survived.
I still can’t think of a way to make it up to her. I’ve never been close enough to someone to be able to buy a thoughtful gift. My mother sends me a list every year for her and my dad, with no thinking involved. Would Hannah think a t-shirt that says “Girls with one kidney have more fun” is amusing or offensive?
I’m guessing if I have to ask that question, it’s probably not a good gift.
See? I am growing.
My phone chimes with an email alert. It’s the itinerary for tomorrow. I’ll be appearing and signing at a health and wellness expo to benefit youth sports programs in Jamaica Plain and Allston. I’m on a panel with players from the Red Sox, the Patriots, the Celtics, and the Bruins.
I’m actually looking forward to it. I might even smile. There’s bound to be news coverage. Hannah would probably love it.
No probably about it. This is right up her alley.
I wonder if she even knows about it. I’d check her social media, but she’s blocked me everywhere. There’s got to be a way to find out.
Me: Can you do me a favor? Please?
Heaven: This must be big. You used the word please.
Apparently, my reputation for being a douche precedes me.
Me: It’s not huge. I’m just trying to be a more decent human being.
Heaven: Shoot. But only because you’re being nice.
Heaven: Just kidding. You literally pay me to do things.
Me: I thought Justice paid you.
Heaven: I take a cut of his cut. I do that for all his PITA clients.
That’s deserved.
Me: Touché. Can you check Hannah LaRosa’s ClikClak?
Heaven: NP. What am I looking for?
Me: Is she still on? Is she still posting? Has she said anything about the expo?
Heaven: Too scared to look to see if she’s made more videos about you?
