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Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay. I’m hurting.”
“How long until you have to pitch again?”
“Just practice the rest of this week. If the rotation holds, I pitch at the end of the next series. Then we’re in Houston before Dallas and I think Coach will bench me those games to save me for the Rangers. There’s minimal throwing in a long stretch of games so I should mend.”
She shook her head. “You need more time than that and we both know it. When are you seeing a doctor?”
“In Texas. After the series.”
“You don’t even have an appointment lined up yet.” She made a frustrated sound and pushed out of his reach. “Every time you pitch injured, you risk permanent tissue damage.”
“Every time I don’t pitch, I risk permanent career damage. I risk my contract with the Rays.” He hesitated. “I moved my mom here last year, so it’s important I stay with this team.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, and he expected her to come up with an argument of some sort on why he was the world’s biggest idiot gambling with his arm. But he expected wrong. Without another word, she got off the bed and located her phone.
“My sister is as good as they come. And she’s discreet. She actually treats a lot of baseball injuries. I’d like to call her and let you two set something up.”
Brad was stunned by her offer. Where were the lectures about telling his coach or his agent? Where was the pressure to take himself out of rotation? And why wasn’t she taking notes for her next column? He felt vulnerable—a wholly unwelcome emotion—as his preconceived ideas about her toppled. Maybe she was genuine. Maybe he could trust her.
“All right, then,” he said.
A hint of a smile curved her lips as she dialed. A few seconds later, he listened to her laugh and joke with her sister before detailing his situation. “Yes. I’ll tell him about Daddy.”
Finally, she wrapped up her conversation. She covered the mouthpiece with her palm before offering it to him. “Her name is Kelli. She’s the wild one in the family, just so you know.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he nodded and accepted the phone. “Hello. This is Brad.”
“Bradley, sweetie, this is Kelli. Listen, we’re gonna get you all taken care of. I’d feel better if you were seeing the doctor who did your surgery, but I won’t waste my breath and pressure you. We both know you won’t listen. You’re scared shitless over your career and that’s guiding your decisions.”
Brad laughed at the pure audacity of the woman. If anyone else had told him what she just said, he would have hung up. But the smoothness of her delivery backed up by an obvious confidence that she knew what she was talking about, make it okay with him.
Kelli continued, “So. Talk to me. Tell me about your previous injury.”
“I don’t know that this injury is related. Before my hand tingled and got numb. They said the nerve needed to be repositioned.”
“An ulnar nerve transposition. Does that sound right?”
“Vaguely familiar. I didn’t catch the details.”
“Hmm. Don’t remember anything other than when the doctor said you could play again. Most of my patients suffer selective hearing. I’m working on a cure. Back to you. Now you say your pain is more localized, your elbow swells and you have tendinitis-type symptoms.”
“Right. Exactly. So what does that mean? How bad is it?”
“I can’t tell you that from a phone call. I’ll meet you after hours the night you get into town and arrange some tests. Anyone I enlist will keep my secrets, trust me. Hopefully, before you pitch another game I can tell you how much damage you’re doing to yourself. I can also give you some medication to help the pain and inflammation. I assume you’re taking Advil and using ice?”
“Right.”
“And you made up some story to get out of practice this week.”
He knew he should, but that would raise flags he didn’t dare risk. “No, but I plan to dodge pitching as much as possible.”
“It would be better if you skipped it altogether and hopped on a plane to come see me now. But I know you aren’t going to do that. Just be careful.”
They talked a few more minutes and scheduled the meeting. “And Brad,” Kelli said. “Do yourself a favor. Find a good acupuncturist right away. They can’t cure you, but they take away some of the pain.”
“An acupuncturist.” Surely he’d heard wrong.
“Yes. Listen to your new doctor. She knows best. I’ve never lost a man, yet, sugar, and I don’t plan to now. Put my sister back on the line.”
Amanda took the phone and talked for a bit before hanging up. “Well then,” she said. “You’re all set. Kelli said to stop second-guessing her and go to the acupuncturist.”
