Free Kick

Feeling Blue

When Simon woke up, his hospital room was dark and it smelled bad; not sickly bad, but like a cheap apartment smells the morning after a party, a combination of wet cardboard, dried sauces and stale beer.

Simon wasn’t tired any more, nor did he jump at the chance of a new day. He laid there and listened for what’s next. He had never stayed overnight at a hospital before and was frankly unsure of how to handle the experience. The tube that ran from his arm to the pole with the bag of water seemed to indicate that he should not venture too far, although it did occur to him that the bathroom adjoining his bed would be necessary very shortly. He remembered the little hand held device for summoning the nursing staff. It was hanging over the end of the bed. With a little effort he got hold of it and gave it a pulse.

A young nurse came in a few minutes later with a look of not exactly disgust but close enough. Simon was embarrassed by the mess his teammates left behind and from the look on her face, so was the nurse. He hoped, at any rate, that it was the mess that made her pretty face grimace slightly.

“You’ll need to use the bathroom, I’ll show you how to get around,” the nurse said. She lowered the arm of the bed where the pole and water bag were and helped Simon swing his legs over without getting tangled in the tubes. When he was standing up she moved out of the way and Simon walked with forward, guiding the pole with one hand.

“How’s that feel?” she asked, with a small smile. Simon ignored the question.

When he returned a few minutes later an orderly was cleaning up from the visitors the previous evening. He was a small, dark skinned black man who went about his business with extreme purpose and without apology. Simon immediately felt embarrassed again about the previous evening and tried to offer a ‘Sorry about all this,’ but the orderly stopped him right away: “From what I’ve heard, you need a little extra understanding today,” he said, with a broad smile and in an accent Simon did not recognize.

“The free kick’s a killer if you don’t pay attention,” the orderly added, motioning toward his eye. He was chuckling now and Simon felt a little less self-conscious to share the memory with another man. The man handed him a picture that the coach’s young son had done the night before. It was a figure of a player sitting on top of a big blue ball. “You might want to keep that as a reminder next time,” the orderly added as he wheeled his big trash can from the room.

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and studied the drawing because there was nothing else to look at in the room. A moment later a young doctor entered the room and said good morning, introduced himself as something or other and read the chart at the bottom of the bed while he nibbled on a cookie. Simon thought about what they might serve him for breakfast.

“So you took it full bore, is that right? You didn’t try to put your hands down to cover yourself,” the doctor asked, with a wry smile as his head swayed back and forth as if to say “No way.”

“Yeah, it caught me by surprise,” Simon tried to explain, his head hung in shame.

“Ok, well let’s have a look. Why don’t you lay back and spread your legs apart so I can get a gander at the boys,” the doctor said, speaking in a way that wasn’t mocking but also didn’t creep out the patient like a lot of medical speak can.

“Well, it’s not as bad as I expected frankly,” the doctor started, “we had a guy last month who forgot to put in his cup before a hockey game and lucky fella took one for the ages. But this looks ok, a little swollen, a little discolored, but you’ll be back to normal in a week or so I think. Easy with the girls until you have no more discomfort. You used the bathroom and that went Ok? Ok, then, I see you still have you uniform here, which is good, you’ll need lose clothing for the next week or so. Go ahead and call a ride and I’ll get your discharge working.”

The doctor scribbled some notes on the chart and left with a parting “Take it easy Simon, and stop by a pharmacy and get some 500mg Tylenol, you’ll need it.” He tapped his hand on the door jamb for emphasis.

Simon called his roommate, got him out of bed, endured several insults and hackneyed wisecracks and finally got him to agree to leave immediately to pick him up, and to bring a sweatshirt. Meantime the pretty young nurse returned, this time with less an air of approbation and more a light sense of humor. She removed the tube from Simon’s arm and handed him his uniform. Simon made a slight attempt at small talk, which ended when the nurse mentioned he “could really use a shower.”

Another nurse entered the room and Simon signed some documents that he did not understand, nor wished to understand. He waved away a wheelchair and walked gingerly to the elevators. A couple minutes later he pulled a sweatshirt over his upper body and climbed into his roommate’s beater for the most uncomfortable seven minute car ride of his life; the whole time enduring again his roommate’s memory of the previous evening’s game. The first half, the free kick, the ambulance, the second half, the goal in overtime for the win. It was enough to make any man wish he’d stuck with American football.