Saving Taylor (A Patrick Kane Story)

Chapter Three

"Place your foot flat on the table," the doctor instructed, checking to make sure everything was in order. He readjusted the vest that was laid across my chest before walking around the corner. Click.

"Alright, Miss Burrows, you are all done!" The doctor's assistant exclaimed as she walked into the room. She quickly took off the vest placed on my chest and folded it into a small square before placing it on the side table. Walking over to where I was, she helped me off the table and back into the dreaded wheel chair. I was then guided into a lab filled with desktop computers. The doctor stood in the middle of the room, intently studying what were most likely my x-rays and scribbling furiously onto a clipboard.

The nervous twitch in my hand quickly made its presence known as my head was filled with all the possibly scenarios. What if I can't play in the game? Will I need surgery? Did I break it? Will Coach Paxton be disappointed if something actually was wrong? The longer the wait went on, the more pessimistic my thoughts became.

After what felt like forever, the doctor put his clipboard down and let out a sigh. Uh oh, that's not a good sign. He rested the blue pen against his lips before motioning to one of the x-rays. "The good news is that it's not broken," Oh, thank god, "but it is badly sprained."

The momentary relief I felt quickly vanished. I wasn't sure whether or not I should be happy about this fact. Frankly, while not the worst case scenario, I still wasn't all that thrilled with this supposed "good news." After a moment of silence, I finally got the courage to ask the question that was slowly taking over my mind.

"How long do you think it will take to heal?" I gulped, not a hundred percent sure I wanted to know the answer.

The doctor stroked his beard in contemplation before carefully replying, "Each patient is different, so there really is not an exact time for recovery. With that being said, this injury could last two days or up to six weeks. However, I do strongly advise you not to walk on it for about the next two or three days."

I closed my eyes for a brief moment in an attempt to keep my tears at bay and prepare myself for another difficult question. "Is there any chance I would be able to play in the championship next Sunday?"

The doctor sighed before leaning up against one of the chairs. "As I said before, every patient's different, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. At this point, it doesn't seem likely." I nodded, the tears behind my eyes getting heavier.

The nurse grabbed a cloth bandage to wrap around my ankle. "Will you need to rent a pair of crutches?" she asked gently, wheeling me into the waiting room. I shook my head no.

As she opened the door back into the reception area, I noticed Patrick was still sitting near the back, toeing the ground in front of him. Reacting on instinct and instinct alone, I had the nurse wheel me over to him.

"How'd it go?" he asked after noticing my incoming presence.

I started to twirl my thumbs again and replied, "Well, it's not broken-."

"That's a good thing, right?" he interrupted.

"Not exactly," I sighed, running my fingers through my blond hair. "He told me I will most likely not be able to play in my game." A tear snuck out of the corner of my eye and I immediately went to wipe it away. Wow, Tay, I thought, what a way to make a first, or, actually, second, impression. I just met the guy and he's already seen me cry. Fabulous.

Alex came in, interrupting our conversation. "You ready?" he asked, beginning to steer me towards the exit.

I sighed heavily, a habit I seem to have been doing a lot recently, and nodded before turning back towards Patrick. "Good luck with your injury. I hope it turns out better than mine."