by Krista Lakes
Wearing her favorite lime-green scrubs, Elsie tromped through the snow and up to the front door. She shivered off the cold as she knocked and then rang the doorbell immediately afterward. A moment later, the woman from the interview opened the door and crossed her arms.
“You're late,” she said.
Elsie's eyes widened, shocked to be greeted in such a way after driving over twenty minutes through the snow. She glanced down at her watch to see that the woman was right, but only by three whole minutes.
“I'm sorry, there was a plow on the way here,” Elsie explained. “They aren't exactly easy to drive around and my car doesn't do so hot in the snow.”
The woman didn't say anything, but rolled her eyes as she held the door open. Elsie stepped inside, making the decision to ignore the woman's bitchy attitude and just pretend that she wasn't actually as hostile as she appeared.
“Did you bring the contract?” Nikki asked, crossing her arms.
Elsie carefully pulled out a folder with the documents tucked neatly inside. They'd come at nearly ten o'clock PM last night. She'd been up half the night reading them, making sure she understood exactly what she was getting into. She handed them to Nikki, who quickly took them and flipped through them to double check her work.
“So, where's my patient?” Elsie asked, setting down her purse in the wooden chair next to the front door.
“He's in the training room,” Nikki replied. “I want to impress upon you again the need for silence.”
“I will not violate my patient confidentiality,” Elsie said, for the millionth time.
The woman gave her one last hostile look and then led her through the house to the back room. Elsie gasped when she stepped inside, immediately noticing the state-of-the-art equipment that filled it wall-to-wall.
“I'll go get your patient,” Nikki said. “Please wait here.”
Elsie nodded, but didn't look toward her. She was too hypnotized by the equipment.
There has to be at least a million dollars worth of medical equipment here, she thought. This is like a physical trainer's candy store. What kind of athlete could afford all of this?
Her attention was swayed when she heard the familiar creak of crutches. She turned around to see her patient standing in the doorway, with a crutch under each of his arms.
Whoa, she thought, trying to keep her jaw from dropping completely to the floor.
During the interview the day before, Nikki had told Elsie that her patient was in “good” physical shape. That wasn't exactly an accurate description of the kind of shape he was in, though. The guy was in amazing physical condition. Definitely professional athlete territory. In fact, his ultra-muscular chest and torso were obvious, even through his white t-shirt.
But despite how strong his body appeared, he looked exhausted. Beaten up and tired. His bottle-blonde hair was messy and unkempt. His shoulders were slouched forward. A fading purple bruise circled his right eye, making it look like he left a boxing ring after losing a ten-round fight not too long ago.
Elsie approached him and he watched her, his blue eyes never looking away.
“I'm Elizabeth,” she said, holding out a hand. “Most of my friends call me Elsie, though. Either one will do. And you must be...” She paused for a moment, feeling a bit embarrassed for not knowing her patient's name. “I'm sorry, I actually don't know much about you. Your assistant hasn't been telling me anything at all.”
He looked a little surprised, but smiled. “Call me Ollie.” Ollie shifted his weight on the crutches so that he could shake her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well,” Elsie said, glancing over his shoulder to see the woman from the interview walk out the front door without saying goodbye.
Real nice lady, that one, she thought.
“If you'll come over to the table, I'd like to test your range of motion.” Elsie walked slowly toward the exam table in the center of the room, letting Ollie follow behind. “I'll also need to get some history from you. It's just basic stuff, but things that I need to know in order to treat you properly.”
Ollie hobbled over to the table and Elsie took a step back to watch him. Just by seeing the way he used his crutches gave her a head start on her evaluation of the new patient.
He's got strong arms. Clearly right-handed. Seems to compensate well using his left leg, though, she thought, making notes in her mind.
Ollie heaved himself up onto the edge of the table. Elsie took her clipboard and sat on a swivel chair just a few feet away. The seated position put her at a lower elevation than Ollie and really brought into focus just how tall of a man he was. He was much larger than the average guy, and much more muscular too.
This is going to be quite a bit different than treating my usual 80-year-old ladies with hip replacements. It'll be more like when I fix the young farmers, she thought, taking a glance at Ollie. And he's probably just as stubborn as they are, too.
“So tell me, Ollie, how did this injury on your right leg happen?” Elsie asked, holding the clipboard in one hand and her pen in the other. “And also, what other injuries do you have, if any, that I'm not seeing here?”
“I was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago,” he said, pushing his blonde hair off of his forehead.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” she said. “Car wrecks can be traumatizing in more ways than just physically.”
Ollie shrugged. “I'm just glad it wasn't worse. I walked away with just a black eye, a cracked rib, a torn ACL and fourteen stitches. But I'm just happy to have walked away at all, honestly.”
Elsie parted her lips. She was going to ask what caused the accident, but then decided that it was fairly irrelevant. If he didn't want to share, then she wasn't going to pry. It wasn't her job. She wasn't getting paid to ask unnecessary questions, so she decided to keep her curiosity to herself.
“Are there any other injuries that I should be aware of?” she asked. “Any back issues or shoulder problems? Any family history of either of those things?”
Ollie shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really. I did have some whiplash from the accident. My neck was really sore for the first week, but it seems to have subsided for the most part. The doctors at the hospital weren't too worried about that, though. They said it was normal after an accident like mine. Besides all that, I'm as healthy as a horse.”
Elsie scribbled on her clipboard, jotting down everything that he said so that she could refer to it later if needed. She loved that she could actually get some information from this guy, unlike the gate-keeping Nikki.
“And what do you do for your profession?” Elsie asked.
“Really?” he asked, sounding surprised. Ollie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.
“Yes, really,” she said, tapping her pen against the side of the clipboard. “I need to know so I can get you back to it.”
“You don't recognize me?” He seemed utterly shocked by the idea.
“I'm sorry, I don't,” she replied, shaking her head. “Should I?”
Ollie leaned forward, bringing his elbows to his knees. He looked directly at her with his crystal clear blue eyes and she felt a tingling inside of her, which she tried to ignore. The man had presence.
“You're being serious?” he asked. “You're not just messing with me?”
“Look, Ollie, I'm not here to joke around,” she said with a polite smile. “I'm not messing with you. I've no idea who you are.”
“I'm Oliver Lance,” he said, as if his name was all the information she needed. Elsie shrugged. He blinked twice before adding, “I'm the starting quarterback for the San Francisco Bandits.”
Elsie raised her eyebrows, initially wondering if he was pulling her strings. The Bandits were her nephews' favorite professional football team. She didn't actually know any of the players on the team, so she couldn't be sure he was telling the truth or just trying to impress her.
“I've heard the name,” she asked, twirling her pen in b
etween her forefinger and thumb.
“So you have heard of me?” he asked, a satisfied grin crossing his face.
“No, I've heard of the team name, the Bandits,” she said. “But only in passing. I'm not a huge football fan. I'm sorry.”
Ollie's smile shifted out of cocky and into amazed as he shook his head in disbelief. “It's not often I meet someone who doesn't recognize me.”
“I'm sorry to disappoint,” Elsie replied, with a smile and a shrug.
“No, don't be.” Ollie sat up straighter on the table. “It's kind of refreshing, actually. I'm just surprised is all.”
Ollie being a professional football player certainly explained some things, including his muscular physique and his ability to afford all of the medical equipment than surrounded them.
“Can I ask you something?” Elsie asked, setting her clipboard to the side.
“Of course,” Ollie said, looking completely at ease.
“Why did that woman stress so hard that you being here was a total secret?” she asked. “She reminded me of it over and over, making sure that I wouldn't tell a soul.”
“Because nobody can find out that the Bandit's quarterback has been injured,” he said, his face loosing the confident smirk. “The car accident stayed quiet, but if word gets out that I'm injured, it's bad news for my team. If news of this injury gets out, it changes the game. It changes how we play.”
“I have to ask, does your coach know?” Elsie asked.
Ollie nodded, his blue eyes watching her. “He knows everything. This is actually his idea. I only play if I'm back to full speed. But this is my life. I need your help.”
Elsie sighed. She could see the pain and desperation in Ollie's eyes. His career was everything to him and it was clear by the lengths he had gone in order to preserve it.
“Okay, well let's get going,” she said, putting on a smile. “I can't promise a full recovery. No physical therapist can. But I'll do my best to get you back into tip top shape.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
She raised her eyebrows as she looked at him. “Please, call me Elsie. I'm a physical therapist, and 'doctor' just isn't me.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.” He winked at her.
Elsie shook her head and pushed on. “Now tell me, what was your level of activity before the accident? How many workouts a week were you doing and for how long? Cardio or weights?”
Ollie chuckled. “In the off-season, I worked out every single day for two to three hours. Mostly weights, but always at least thirty minutes of cardio as well. During the season, I cut all of that back since we have practices. I can't afford to be sore during games.”
Elsie continued scribbling on her paper as she listened. This was going to be a unique patient, no doubt. This wasn't just someone who wanted to get back to a “normal” life of walking around the park or the mall. This was a man who was a professional athlete and who was asking her to bring him back to that level of activity.
She'd worked on similar athletes, but she knew this was going to be the biggest challenge she had faced in her career. It made her nervous, but also excited, to be presented with such a unique opportunity. The fact that Ollie happened to be easy on the eyes was just a little added bonus to the situation.
“Let me take a look at your knee,” she said, standing up and approaching Ollie.
“Sure thing, Doc,” he said, with a smirk.
“I'm not that kind of doctor, Ollie.”
His smile faded. “Are you going to be able to fix me?” he asked, as Elsie removed the brace around his knee.
“Like I said, I'm going to do everything I can,” she replied, setting the brace behind him on the examining table. “I'm confident, though. ACL repairs are not the end of the world and many athletes go back to returning to their normal level of activity.”
As Elsie examined Ollie's knee, she could feel his eyes on her. It was like he was absorbing every one of her movements. It made her feel on-the-spot and admittedly a little self-conscious, but she did her best to ignore it and continued investigating his injury.
After unwrapping the bandages, she checked the incisions first. They seemed to be healing very well, considering the short amount of time since the surgery. He'd definitely had a good surgeon, which was going to make her life easier.
“I'm going to move your leg around a bit,” she said, placing her hand on the underside of his ankle. “Let me know what hurts and what doesn't.”
She lifted up his leg and watched his face, stopping her movement as soon as he winced in pain. His range of motion was about seventy-five degrees, which she was expecting after an injury like his.
“Your surgeon seemed to have done an excellent job,” Elsie said, slowly bringing Ollie's leg back down to a resting position. “It looks like you're healing up nicely.”
“I was told he was the best.” Ollie looked relieved, now that Elsie wasn't pushing on his leg any more.
“It certainly looks that way,” she said, wrapping some gauze loosely over his incisions. “I'm going to massage your knee a little bit. It's just to keep the blood flowing so that you heal better. Let me know if it hurts and I'll stop.”
“Massage away, Doc,” Ollie said.
Elsie gave him the side eye for the “Doc” comment, which Ollie responded to with a grin. Without saying anything, she began working on his knee. With her hands busy, she let her brain start coming up with a plan. She'd worked with another pro-football player with a similar injury before taking up her uncle's clinic, so she had a good idea of where to go next.
“So here's the game plan,” Elsie said, watching Ollie's face to gauge his enthusiasm. “This week and next week will be pretty simple. We're going to work on getting your full range of motion back and begin the process of getting strength back in your leg. Once I feel like you're steady enough for it, we can get you out of the brace. You're probably still going to want your pain meds, but if you're able to, it would be a good time to begin weaning yourself off of them.”
“I'm ready to take this thing head on,” he said, with beaming confidence. “Whatever it takes to get back in the game.”
He's not as ready as he thinks he is. Nobody is, she thought. She smiled at him. But at least he's got the right attitude.
She heard a rumbling coming from Oliver's belly and she looked up at him.
“You hungry?” Elsie asked, nodding toward the noise.
“A little, yes,” he said, patting his stomach and looking a little bashful.
“How are you getting your meals out here?” Elsie continued to massage his knee as she spoke. “Nobody that I know delivers this far out.”
“What, are you worried about me, Doc?” he asked, grinning wide.
She chuckled and shook her head. He wasn't giving up with the “Doc” reference. Oddly enough, she was beginning to find it to be kind of endearing, but she didn't want to fuel the fire, so she just ignored it this time.
“It's my job to worry about you, Mr. Lance,” she replied, gently patting his knee.
“Ollie,” he said with a soft smile. “Please, call me Ollie. And you don't need to worry too much about me. Nikki dropped off a bunch of pre-made meals that are easy to heat up.”
“Nikki?” she asked. “The same one that interviewed me yesterday?”
“Yep, that's her,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of the table. “She's my manager, so she wants me back on the field as much as I do.”
“Are you eating the meals that she's prepared for you?” Elsie asked, pausing in her work to look up at him. “Sometimes it can be easy to forget to eat when you're on pain meds.”
Ollie reached into the front pocket of his shorts and pulled out his cell phone, holding it up in front of her. “I have a timer that reminds me when to eat. And I promise that I'm sticking to it. I kind of have to anyway, because the pain meds make me nauseous if I take them on an empty stomach.”
“These meals are healthy, right?” she asked. “Nutrition is an impor
tant part of the healing process, so I want you eating correctly.”
Ollie leaned his head back and let out a laugh. “Yes, Mom. They're healthy. And I'm eating all of my fruits and vegetables too. Would you like to make sure that I'm washing my hands?”
“Yes, and in addition to that, I'm going to need to make sure that you're doing all your homework and making your bed.” She winked as she grinned up at him.
“So, what you're saying is that you want to see my bed?” Ollie asked, with a chuckle. He grinned naughtily at her.
She had walked right into that one. Elsie felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment by his comment, which only made Ollie laugh harder.
“Hey, you said it, not me.” Ollie put his hands in the air with his palms out, an expression of innocence.
She just shook her head and did her best not to make it worse. She needed to stay professional here. Even though it was innocent enough right now, she needed to maintain her position as medical provider. So she focused on the massage and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks.
“I know that I'm not supposed to ask a ton of questions, per the contract I signed yesterday,” she said, clearing her throat. “But these sessions are going to be very long and tedious if we don't have something to talk about. If I ask something and you don't feel like answering, just tell me to stop and I will.”
“Sure,” he said with a small shrug. “Ask me anything.”
“Favorite food?” she asked, pausing for a moment to look up at him.
“That's an easy one,” he replied. “Pizza. I know it's not the fanciest thing to ever grace the planet, but it's my favorite because I hardly ever get to have it. It's my kryptonite.”
“If you like pizza, there's a place in town called Fo's Pizza,” she said, happy to be making small talk with him. “They have a Thai chili pizza that just might be the best thing in the entire world.”
“A Thai chili pizza?” Ollie asked, stating each word slowly, as though she had just suggested something so amazing he had to savor the words.
“Yes, and it's incredible.” Elsie practically began to drool at just the thought of it. “Fo's does deliver, though I'm not sure if they'll come out this far. I can always bring it to you sometime if you're concerned about privacy stuff.”
