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“How long?”
“Ten minutes, and then we check it,” I say, and DJ nods.
“Good.”
So we wait, and I hate that Johansson is hurting. He hasn’t stopped grimacing, and he looks like he wants to punch someone. I’ve been in his shoes; charley horses are the worst in your thighs. I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy.
When the time is up, I pull the ice pack off, and I don’t like what I see.
DJ looks to me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s swelling.”
DJ looks down and then shakes his head. “No, it’s just red from the ice. It’s the same size.”
But I know I’m right. “No, when you pulled his sock down, it wasn’t this swollen.”
DJ looks at it again and then crouches down, pressing his fingers into Johansson’s leg. He groans loudly, and I swear his thigh is getting bigger.
“DJ, it’s still swelling.”
“Okay, can I play?” Johansson asks, and I’m shaking my head.
DJ is way calmer than I am. “Stand up, put some pressure on it.”
Johansson does as he asks but crumples into us. “Fuck, I can’t.”
I’m watching his thigh the whole time. The twitching has stopped, but the swelling is out of this world. I think I know what’s wrong, and I wait for DJ to say something, but he doesn’t. When I look at him, he’s already looking at me, and I realize he is waiting for me. I clear my throat, ignoring the pounding in my chest. “We should do the compartment pressure test.”
“You think so?” DJ asks before looking back down at Johansson’s thigh.
“I do,” I say confidently.
DJ nods in agreement. “Do it.”
So I do, with no help. This is my favorite test at school, and I excel at it. But unlike in school, I don’t like the results at all. As much as I hate to say it, I know I have to. “We need to get him to the hospital.”
DJ looks to me, his eyes knowing. “Why’s that?”
I point to Johansson’s thigh, though we all know what I’m going to say. “Because he was hit just right, and it looks as if he is suffering from acute compartment syndrome.”
“Which is?”
“Low blood supply to a nerve and/or a muscle. If we’re gonna save his thigh—and his career—we need to get him to a doctor. Now.”
DJ gives me a wide smile before smacking me on the back. “Good job, Justice.”
A rush comes over me, and I feel like I just scored a hat trick, blocked a billion shots, and at the end of it all, Sofia was there to kiss the shit out of me!
DJ calls the med team to come in with the stretcher to get Johansson to the hospital. Johansson looks from the stretcher to me with a confused look on his face.
“Wait, so I’m not good? How long is this going to take? I want to go back out there.”
Man, I love hockey. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s an amazing sport, full of amazingly tough guys. Johansson is one of them, and while they load him up and DJ explains he won’t be returning to the game tonight, I have a hard time holding back my excitement at my accomplishment.
I just saved my favorite player’s leg.
Man, what a rush!
