Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
The arena is practically shaking as the crowd shouts out a countdown of the clock’s final thirty seconds. Then it’s over, and they erupt into cheers.
Ford tosses his stick and drops to his knees. Sal throws his mask aside and skates toward center ice, where the rest of us meet him.
We won. We just won the championship. Tears stream from my eyes as I embrace my teammates. Every painful minute with my knee was worth it. We’re on top for the first time ever.
Our coaches join us on the ice, all of us emotional. I wasn’t sure I’d ever know what this feels like.
It feels fucking incredible. I look up at my family and see everyone hugging each other. Shelby is grinning at me. I blow her a kiss.
Then I look up at the owner’s box and see Mila. Her hands are clasped beneath her chin and she’s beaming at us. This wouldn’t have happened without her. She believes in her team more fiercely than any owner I’ve ever seen.
“We did it!” Ford yells, embracing me. “We fucking did it, Fox!”
We fucking did. And I’ll never forget this feeling.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Colby
I know as soon as I walk into the doctor’s office. Not only is Dr. Harlan there, sitting behind his desk, but there are also three other people in the room. The white coats give them away as doctors, too.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, good to see you again.” Dr. Harlan stands and comes around to the front of the desk to shake our hands.
He introduces Mila and me to the other three doctors, and I fake smile and shake their hands, too. As soon as Mila and I are seated in the two chairs in front of Dr. Harlan’s desk, she takes my hand. That’s not something she usually does, so I know she’s feeling the same trepidation I am.
“Well?” Mila gets right to it. “I hope you have a new treatment for my husband and we didn’t fly all the way back here just to hear you’re still working on it.”
My wife is a lot more pointed than I am, as usual, but in this case, I’m glad she’s getting right to the point. We’ve been to this hospital in London three times in the past two months. And that was after many visits to a specialist in Denver and a hospital in New York. Long COVID has taken over my fucking life. I’m too exhausted to get out of bed sometimes, and even when I force myself to, I feel like shit all the time.
Fatigue. Headaches. Brain fog. I have all the symptoms, and they’re only getting more severe. Mila has been relentless about seeking answers and treatment options, but there’s just not a lot of certainty among the medical community about long COVID.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, we do appreciate you making the trip here, and we do want to begin treatment immediately. However, the diagnosis isn’t long COVID.”
Mila scoffs. “What do you mean? Colby was diagnosed with long COVID a year ago. We know he has it. We just haven’t been able to find a treatment that works.”
Dr. Harlan ignores her question and looks directly at me.
“The symptoms were consistent with long COVID, but Mr. Harrison, you, in fact, have a brain tumor.”
I stare at him, lightheaded. There’s no way he just said what I think he did.
“No, that can’t be right,” Mila argues. “Rest and hydration make him feel a lot better. That wouldn’t be true if he had...that. You need to run more tests.”
“I’ve had three colleagues review all the test results and Mr. Harrison’s medical records and they all agree with me.” Dr. Harlan’s tone isn’t defensive but apologetic.
I nod, my resentment over having long COVID now feeling like a cosmic joke. A brain tumor.
It tracks. Headaches, fatigue, confusion.
“Rest and hydration improved my symptoms,” I say.
Dr. Harlan nods.
“How bad is it? Give it to me straight, I want to know.”
Dr. Harlan looks at one of the other doctors, a middle-aged woman whose name I’ve already forgotten.
“We need to run more tests, including a biopsy. We’ll know more after that.”
My wife scoffs. “I need to know more now. How bad is it?”
Her tone is pissed off, but I know it’s really fear that’s driving her. I squeeze her hand gently.
“If you want my opinion,” the female doctor says, “and again, this is an opinion. I think we’ve caught this somewhere in between early and late. There are no signs it’s spread, and that’s good. We’ll get the testing done as quickly as possible, I assure you.”
“Now.” Mila’s voice wavers with emotion. “I told you money isn’t a factor and I meant that. We’ll write you a check right now. Just name the amount. I want the rest of the testing done immediately.”
“We can get everything done as soon as tomorrow,” the doctor says. “We’ll need a biopsy, more blood work, an MRI and a PET scan.”