Perfection

12 Days After, 393 Days Until

Alexia

"Are you ready for your surgery?" Madre asked.

"I think so." I sighed. I kept twirling the hospital band around my wrist. "She's not here." I said referring to Sam.

"Yet."

"She said she'd come."

"Alexia, your surgeon hasn't even come to see you yet. It's okay."

"I got a good surgeon, Mom. He's a busy guy. I give him some grace."

"Give Sam some grace too." She patted my hand. "From what little you've told me, she seems to be lovely."

"She is."

There was some silence between me and Mom. She opened her book back up and began to read whatever it was. I opted for staring at the clock on the wall.

Sam had told me she was coming. Several times. One of those several being this morning. I'll be there. Not a minute late. If 'not a minute late' means thirty minutes, then she's not late.

I tried giving her grace. I still was. She lead a busy and unorganized life. Work, Riley, whatever came in between. It wasn't her fault. I couldn't ever imagine doing half the things she does.

There was a knock at the door before I heard it open. I hoped for Sam but was disappointed when I saw my surgeon.

"Hola," He smiled, rubbing sanitizer on his hands. "How are you?"

"Could be better, of course. You?"

"I'm alright. I've just come by to check on you and run through your surgery for the hundredth time. Sound good?"

"Perfecto."

He ran through the logistics of my surgery. He'd make a small incision around my knee joint to make a point of entry for his tools. A device will expand some space in the knee then he'll look at other muscles to make sure they don't need repair.

He'll use a graft and attach at each end to plugs of bone from the patella and tibia, anchor my graft and become the ACL.

He'll screw it shut and the plugs will grow into my bone over time. It sounded worse than it looked on a YouTube video that explained it.

Then he went through a brief summary of my timeline. I could start strengthening and working on my range-of-motion in the early stages.

I wouldn't even attempt running until about four months in. Four. Months. That felt like a punch to the stomach and a lifetime away.

Cutting and quick movements wouldn't begin until five to six months. I had the possibility to return to the field as early as six months, but I wouldn't.

Not with the damage I had done.

I probably wouldn't see a field until late May or early June of 2023. A whole year away.

"Does everything I explained make sense?" The surgeon asked.

"Sí. Gracias."

"We're going to get you through this, Alexia. It'll be tough, but you're a fantastic athlete and in fabulous form. It'll go by quickly. Enjoy the break you get though."

"I will certainly try to."

"Great," He smiled. "We'll get you out of here and into surgery within the next ten to fifteen minutes."