Three words will stay in my head after watching my son laid out on the ice last night.
“Get. Up. Pussy!”
With a minute left in the second period of the game, Spiderman took a clean “shoulder-to-shoulder” hit that had him dropping to the ice. The “pop” was heard when he landed on his shoulder…the look on his face is one I won’t forget for some time making me all too aware, while I sat in the stands, that this was a little bit more than a regular fall.
My kid, who is as tough as nails…was down.
With the help of his teammates who helped him to his feet…he skated off the ice where just moments later, his skates were off, his bags were packed, his arm was taped and we were heading to the IWK Children’s hospital where I have to tell you…he was a trooper.
His wit and charm came shining through as gear was being removed…as nurses and doctors did their very best to make him comfortable…as tears couldn’t help but escape his eyes while he tried to breathe through the worst of it…tried to grin…tried to keep his composure and hold down the emotions of knowing that hockey was unexpectedly now on hold.
His self-diagnosis to his coach of “I broke my collar-bone” was confirmed by one set of x-rays and then another…ordered by Ortho as there was some fear of his shoulder also being separated.
But he was lucky.
A brace…pain killers…and approximately six weeks to heal.
Everything went as well as could be expected with help from teammates, coaches and the amazing staff at the IWK. I couldn’t be more thankful how this horrible situation played out from beginning to end except for these three ugly words that seem stuck in my head.
“Get. Up. Pussy!”
Said by a player from the opposing team after a clean hit…a clean drop…a fair moment in a game where accidents can happen and injuries occur.
While he lay on the ice in pain…not for long but long enough to know it was bad. While the whistle blew and he got off the ice knowing he was broken…trying to hold himself together and not stay down to stall the game.
When there was absolutely no need to be a jerk. Without empathy and, in my opinion, showing unsportsmanlike behaviour, mean-spiritedness and lack of respect. Three words were spoken.
Words that were followed a few hours later by a doctor who did her very best to make my son comfortable…who kept him at ease explaining each step and what to expect…who showed us the x-rays and pointed to the nasty break claiming three more words…”This isn’t normal.”
And quite frankly, I couldn’t agree with her more.