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Chapter One
Jenna
“Alright, Miss Mitchell,” Dr. Franklin says while strolling into the exam room. “Let’s take a look at those X-rays, shall we?”
He walks over to the large lightbox on the wall and turns it on before hanging the black film on it.
The exam room is freezing, making my bony fingers practically turn blue. But despite how frigid the room is, I feel a nervous sweat break out all over my body.
My eyes dart to the chair next to me where my boyfriend, Justin, is sitting. He’s scrolling through his phone like this doctor’s appointment isn’t the single most important thing in my life right now. He’s acting like what this doctor is about to say won’t determine the course my life will take.
But I’m not going to say that to him. He’d tell me I was just being dramatic. He’d say, “So what if you can’t play volleyball anymore? Now, you’ll have time for other stuff, and it’s not a big deal.”
But itisa big deal.
It’s ahugedeal.
Volleyball is everything to me. It’s been my whole life for years, and it’s what got me a full-ride scholarship to college. And until I got hurt, it was my career plan for the foreseeable future.
But when I shattered my tibia, I saw all those dreams going up in smoke.
A few days ago, I had surgery to try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. And I know it’ll be a long recovery process, but now, we are waiting to hear preciselyhowlong.
He’s staring at the X-rays and muttering the occasional, “Hmm.” If he doesn’t hurry up, I might just scream.
After what seems like an eternity, the doctor turns toward us. Before speaking, he runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“Alright, Miss Mitchell, before we go any further, I’d like to take a look at your incisions.”
He walks over to me and removes the dressing from my surgery. Gently, he turns my leg to see what he needs to.
When he’s done, he takes a seat in his chair and jots down a couple of notes.
Come on, Doc! You’re killing me!
“Alright,” he begins. “It looks like your incisions are healing nicely, so we can get you fitted in your hard cast today. We’ll want to keep it on 3-4 weeks before switching it out with a new one. A few weeks after that, hopefully, you’ll be cast-free. I’d say 6-8 weeks total.”
“And after that, I can go back to playing volleyball?” I ask anxiously.
The doctor takes a deep breath and exhales a heavy sigh, telling me he’s about to drop a bomb of bad news. “Miss Mitchell, to be quite frank, I think your competitive volleyball days are over. Even after the cast comes off, you’re in for a long road of physical therapy, and I don’t know that your leg will ever be the same.”
“But if I go through the therapy, there’s a chance?” I plead.
“Any doctor who sees all the metal in your leg now will never sign off on a physical to let you play again. In fact, I’m surprised someone signed off on you playing now. Your chart shows that you were in the hospital about a year ago with a hairline fracture.”
I nod.
“And I’m guessing you went right back to playing volleyball?” He asks.
Bingo.
My silence gives him all the answers that he needs. He sighs again. “Not giving your leg the appropriate time to heal could be what led to an eventual worse injury. Right now, you just need to focus on getting better. Let’s forget about volleyball for now.”
Easier said than done.
********************
A couple of hours later, Justin and I are on our way back to campus. I have a meeting with my coach to discuss what I found out at the doctor. My boyfriend has turned into my chauffer, making me feel entirely helpless.
