I cradled my wrist in my lap and nodded. “It feels fine.”
“I meant how are you, overall. Your team played quite well in their last game,” he noted.
During our last appointment, he hadn’t bothered with small talk. Why was he doing it this time?
I shrugged. “I’m fine. And it wasn’t pretty, but a win is a win.”
He nodded. “Right. Well, Lisa has updated me on your physical therapy and I’ve taken a look at today’s imaging.” He motioned to my wrist. “Let’s do a quick exam and then we can continue talking.”
I’d prepared myself for this moment. I knew he’d do the same exercises he’d done during the first exam and I’d trained myself to mask every single emotion. When he pressed on my wrist and asked if it hurt, I shook my head. “No.”
“What about now?” he asked, gently rotating my wrist in a circle.
It wasn’t necessarily a lie when I told him it didn’t hurt. A week earlier, the same motion would have inspired every curse word known to man. Now, it was nothing more than a dull ache—completely manageable in my opinion.
“You understand that this appointment was set up so that I could clear you for the final in two days?”
I nodded.
“I don’t think the sprain has fully healed. You’ve told me it feels better, but the body doesn’t lie.” He pointed to my two wrists lying flat on his desk. “You can still see the swelling surrounding your wrist. It’s gone down, but it’s clear you’re still healing from the injury.”
I pulled my hands off the table tucked them beneath the desk. “So what are you saying?”
“I can’t clear you for the game.” He tugged off his glasses and massaged his nose like he was the one in pain.
“Are you kidding?”
“Lisa has said you’ve improved—”
“More than improved. My wrist is fine. The swelling is from the exercises, not the injury.”
His mouth pulled into a tight, grim line. “I’m sorry, Ms. Foster, but your coach will want to know my opinion and I’ll have to tell her my conclusion, based on the evidence.”
I jerked up from my chair and the metal feet scraped against the floor. “Is anything broken?”
He sat back in shock. “Well, no—”
“Then that’s all you need to report. Whether or not I play isn’t your call.”
He furrowed his brows, and I swallowed, hoping I was getting through to him.
“I know my body better than anyone. I know how far I can push myself, so please don’t make this decision for me. Just tell her that the MRI confirmed no broken bones, and that you’ve noticed improvement. That’s all I’m asking.”
I stood and walked out of his office before he could make a decision. I needed him to think on it, to consider what he was doing to my career if he didn’t clear me for the game. I hadn’t asked him to lie; I wanted him to relay the facts. I could fill in the rest myself.
“How’d it go?”
I turned to see Lisa posted against the wall outside the doctor’s office.
“Not great,” I said, shaking my head.
“Did he say whether or not he was going to clear you?”
“I left before he could.”
She smirked. “Right. Well, let’s get to work.”
I followed her over to our training table and hopped up to sit on the edge.
“We won’t train for too long this morning,” she said, reaching out to grab hold of my wrist. “I’m going to wrap your wrist in ice at the end and see if we can’t get some of that inflammation to go down.”
I stared down at my wrist as she worked it in her hands. I took a deep breath, surprised to find tears clouding the corner of my eyes. My chest tightened and I could hardly swallow. Everything was getting to be too much. Deep down, I had convinced myself that the media scandal, the situation with Freddie, the faith of my teammates—they would all resolve themselves if only I could get back on the field. But with one phone call to my coach, the doctor could end that hope.
“Andie?” Lisa ducked to stare up at my downcast eyes. “Andie. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head and tried to escape her questioning. “It’s nothing.”
But it was too late; the floodgates had opened and there was no stopping the tears from slipping down my cheeks. I was tired, so fucking tired of fighting a losing battle. My body ached, my heart ached, my wrist ached, and no one seemed to believe I had any fight left in me. Maybe they were right.
“Andie.” Lisa ran a hand up and down my back, trying to soothe me. “It’s okay. It’s been a tough time.”