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“And your gymnastics training,” she said, writing in the file, “is this a new schedule you started, maybe where your body wasn’t used to this type of pressure?”
“I started earlier this year…I went from twenty-five hours a week to nearly fifty hours a week of training. What do you think caused it?”
She looked up. “Hmmm…I’m going to bring in the ultrasound tech to make sure the tendon isn’t ruptured. Medically speaking, I’d say your injury is due to overuse, doing things too fast and too soon. However, it could be from landing wrong, the impact, or not warming up enough first. It’s a common injury among athletes.”
“Is it treatable where I won’t have to take time off?”
“Let’s see what the scan shows first.” Dr. DeLang smiled, and left the room.
Looking at Madeline, I said, “What do you think it is? I can’t take time off, I just can’t,” I pleaded.
She rubbed my back. “Don’t get upset. We don’t even know what she’ll say.”
The ultrasound was performed, and another twenty agonizing minutes went by before the doctor finally returned with the results.
“All right,” she said, shutting the door behind her. “Good news. You didn’t rupture your Achilles.” She smiled. “The bad news is that you have a pretty bad strain. There are a few options we have that can heal your injury.”
I prayed to God she wouldn’t suggest time off.
“Lots of good stretching before and after practice, icing your muscles every few hours, maybe an ice bath to reduce inflammation. Since you have to be on your feet a lot, taping it could help aid protection. Massage therapy is another one that helps. I’ll get you in touch with a sports medicine therapist. You’ll need to see her before you go back to training so you don’t damage your injury any further. Until then, I can prescribe some medicine for inflammation.”
Quickly, she scribbled something on a square piece of paper and handed it to me. “If you need anything or have any questions, just call and we’ll get you in.”
“Thank you,” Madeline said.
“Do you think I’ll be able to see the sports doctor soon?” I asked Dr. DeLang.
“I’m not sure what her schedule is, you’ll have to call and find out.” Flattening my lips, I nodded and thanked her.
Once we were in Madeline’s car, I expelled a loud sigh and called my mom.
“Mom, it’s me. I just left the doctor’s.”
“And how did it go?” she asked.
“I strained my Achilles tendon and need therapy. The doctor gave me a number for a therapist. Can I give you the number and you set it up for me?”
“No need. I’ll find a doctor for you.”
I paused, my forehead cinching together in puzzlement as to why my mom would find her own doctor. “Mom, I can’t go back to training until I see the physical therapist. When do you think you’ll call and make an appointment?”
“I’m pretty booked up today and—”
My heart dropped, my head flopped back. She’d make time when she could for me and not any sooner. Tears sprung to my eyes. “Mom, this is really important,” I stressed.
“Not everything is about you, Adrianna. The world doesn’t stop when you want it to. I said I will call, and I will when I get the chance.”
Biting my tongue, I thanked her and hung up. Madeline drove toward World Cup. I stayed quiet while annoyance festered inside of me.
Madeline looked at me with sympathy in her eyes. “It’ll all work out. Let’s see what Coach Kova has to say.”
“Thank you, Madeline, for coming with me.”
She patted my leg. “Of course.”
Pulling into World Cup, Madeline parked her car and we stepped inside. “Go sit in Kova’s office and we’ll be there soon.”
Nodding, I made my way to the back, running into Holly.
