Master of Timing

It was a slow moving Tuesday night for Misericordia’s emergency department. In some ways it was a blessing; no one in the ER meant no one has gotten themselves into any trouble. The same couldn't be said for the hospital staff on duty, who divided their time between following up on outstanding doctors reports and refilling their cups of coffee.

Lyndsey was having just ‘one of those days’. You know the ones that knock you down for no apparent reason, but some things just don’t feel right and it’s almost inevitable that world war three is about to commence? Maybe it was the fact that it was October, and there was already snow on the ground. Sure, she was all for winter, but if Edmonton could get through the fall first before December, that would’ve been nice.

The phone ringing dragged her out of her daydream, the circles she had drawn onto a scrap piece of paper showing she was running on auto pilot for a lot longer than she originally planned. Putting the receiver to her ear, she grabbed a blank notepad and answered, “Misericordia ER.”

“This is Team 4, heading from Rexall Place with a MTBI. ETA 3 minutes.”

“Got it, see you soon.” Racing from her chair, she paged for the doctor on call and tapped Jackie on her shoulder as she passed. “MTBI, 3 minutes,” She repeated, placing her stethoscope around her neck and checking her light in her top pocket.

“And to think, I’d need my music to keep me up tonight,” Jackie laughed, waving her iPod around before throwing it on top of her filing cabinet.

The commotion didn’t take long to start, before the doors of the ER burst open and 6 people surrounding a gurney barrelled past talking in fast medical lingo. Lyndsey took the notes from a paramedic, scanning quickly to see where they were at.

“He took a puck to the face, suspected lower jaw fracture, plus dental.”

“Gotta stop blocking those shots man, that’s the D men are for,” Doctor Michaels joked, leaning over to the patient and taking a first look. “You were playing so well, too.”

Lyndsey kept her head down, focussing on the notes as she walked over to the bed. Under normal circumstance’s, she would’ve paid more attention to her surroundings but her eyes were stuck on a name at the top of the page. She didn’t even notice she had nicked her arm on one of the blades still attached to the players’ feet. “Lynds, your arm!”

“What?” She glanced down and saw the half inch cut. “Oh shit.” Doctor Michaels quickly glanced her way. “I’m okay, give me a minute.”

The flurry of people around the bed continued as she made her way over to a sink, covering the small cut with an alcohol swab and a bandage. She vaguely heard what they were saying, and was pretty sure that they were sending the patient up two floors for an MRI, once they could stop his mouth from bleeding. Lyndsey finished putting the tape on her bandage and made her way over, taking the board from the doctor as he checked his beeper.

“Can you organise to get him up to 3, I want him up and scanned ASAP so that we have results for when the team staff arrive. Then he’ll need to be moved to 2, I’m heading there now so I’ll tell them to get a room ready,” He smiled, nodding his head. “You okay?”

She raised her arm a little and smiled. “Just an idiot. I’ll page you once I have something,” Lyndsey confirmed. Stepping back from the curtain, she watched the bed being rolled to the elevators before calling upstairs to get them ready for the scan.

He was in and out of the ER within 10 minutes.

Jackie blew out a breath of air and pushed her bangs off her face. “Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lyndsey huffed. Looking at her bandaged arm again, she shook her head with a sigh.

What a way to meet Sidney Crosby.



Only two more ambulances arrived before the 7am shifters started, and the hand over began. Lyndsey had busied her time, and tried desperately not to think of the man upstairs in some room with probably the worst headache he’s ever had in his entire life. There’s only so much filing you can do in one night before the paper cuts start to really get you down. She picked up her cell and opened the messages, quickly typing.

Guess who’s in the same hospital as me?

The bubbled appeared nearly instantly under her message, the three dots moving back and forth.

JESUS.

Bursting out laughing, Lyndsey quickly moved to the bathrooms, her fingers moving furiously across the touch screen.

Close. Well, in my opinion anyway. Sidney Crosby.

Okay, so it might’ve been a breach of hospital/patient confidentiality, but she hardly doubted that Kate was going to blab about who was where when she was on the other side of the world in Australia.

Are you fucking kidding me? I saw the updates on twitter, how bad was the hit? I thought you said your hospital was a bit further away from where the Oilers play?

It is, maybe the hospital’s closer were packed and they wanted to keep it on the DL? Our top neurologist was on tonight so they might’ve wanted him to see a specialist. And yeah, he didn’t look too good.

She sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket as she caught her reflection in the mirror under the florescent lights. Those twelve hour shifts were taking their toll, she couldn’t wait for a day off to catch up on some Supernatural and some reading. Possibly even having a social life and seeing some friends. Who knows, life could get exciting. Her pocket buzzed against her thigh and she checked the screen, laughing.

Go and kiss all his boo boo’s better. And kiss his not so boo boo too ;)

You are so bad. I love it.

It’s a gift.

She locked the screen and made her way back down the hall, passing a bed with a 6 year old boy who had been brought in by his parents for having an asthma attack. Checking his file, she looked up to see him sitting in bed, sucking on his thumb. “Hey there Andy, how you feeling?”

“Good,” He answered quietly, before resuming sucking on his thumb, twirling his other hand around the fur of his teddy bear. She messed his hair up a little and told his parents that he would be fine to leave in a couple of hours, once the incoming doctor could check him out to be discharged.

“Lyndsey, could you run these upstairs for me? They were supposed to go with Crosby’s file,” Jackie muttered, keeping her voice down to say his name. The paperwork was all his admittance documents, and was supposed to be handed to Doctor Michael with his results from the MRI.

Turning around towards the elevators, she checked her phone again. So, are you doing him? Please say yes. Her Aussie friend could be insatiable sometimes. Her shoes squeaked along the linoleum floor, as she made a left turn from the doors opening and a right down the hall. Passing room after room of empty beds, she figured that he must be in the last door because there was about 12 people standing outside of it, some in Penguins gear, most in suits. Easing her way past all of the people from the team, she found his file resting in the plastic tray right next to his room number.

“Is that the admittance paperwork?”

With a smile, she handed the clipboard back to the resident doctor. “I have no clue why it wasn’t sent up before.” Taking a quick glance around, she smiled kindly to Mike Sullivan, who was chewing on his thumb nail with his arms crossed against his chest. He nodded back in a greeting, before excusing himself from his current conversation to join the doctor and nurse.

“Any news?”

“Not as yet,” the doctor sighed. “He’ll be kept here under observation for the next 24 hours, later on today the plastic surgeon will be around to visit to see what the damage is to the structure of the jawline. Given that it’s his second break, and he’s had multiple concussions in the past we’re treating this one a little more serious than the others. We won’t know the full extent until some of the swelling has gone down.”

Mike clenched his jaw the way all guys do and nodded his head. “The MRI?”

“Showed no permanent damage. But minor head traumas are unpredictable and each case is different. We’ll know more in a few hours.” Taking a quick glance at Lyndsey, then over his shoulder, he lowered his tone. “It’d be best if the least amount of people right now were here. I’m glad he’s got a support system and it’s important he’s taken care of from the team’s side, but we do have a hospital to work in. Our best chance to get our patients well is with us being able to do our jobs freely.”

Lyndsey looked down at her feet. She never liked doctors that had terrible bedside manner. The coach put his hands on his hips and shuffled his feet. “No offence Doc, but that’s the face of the NHL in that room. He’s never left alone during the season.”

“Maybe a trainer could stay to keep everyone updated? He’s in good hands here coach,” She suggested, with the sweetest smile she could muster. Not that any of it was her problem anyway, she didn’t work in this ward. But still, having a hockey team circus outside your “private” hospital door was exactly the best way to go about being discreet.

“Thanks Lyndsey, I’m all good here.” With her dismissal clearly evident, she nodded and headed back down the hall, walking past the elevator and taking the stairs. It surprised her really, how many people were there for him. Obviously Sidney Crosby has a fair hand in the reason all of them were on the Penguins payroll, but she knew that they all had a different job in relation to his career; PR, health coach, training coach, management, lawyers. How someone could live like that, having a million different hands having a part of your life must get exhausting.

Lyndsey wondered, in all the madness that surrounded him and his life, if Sidney Crosby ever got lonely.



It was the last night of her 8 day swing, and she couldn’t wait to have two wonderful days off. Swiping her card to get past the doors, she headed straight for the lockers to change into her scrubs.

Is he still there?

The text made her laugh. Of course, once she clocked off that morning, she had then spent the next two hours at home talking to Kate about all things hockey, particularly the hockey player roomed above her “office”, so to speak.

I don’t know, I haven’t signed on yet. They might’ve transferred him.

I hope for the sake of your ovaries they haven’t.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, locking the phone and putting it into her pocket. Her scope around her neck, pen and light in her top pocket, pager on her belt, she slammed the locker door shut and made her way down to the desk she normally sat in. “Evening Jacks.”

Jackie looked up from her file. “Oh hey there, how’s the arm?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just going to keep it covered for a few more days,” she replied, holding out her arm. “You can dress it again later, if you’re so worried.”

“Oh, try and stop me.” Rolling her eyes, Jackie went back to her work, logging patient details into her computer. Lyndsey found her place, and sat down with a glance to her right, to see the mounting paperwork that accumulated over the last 12 hours. Funny how day nurses in the ER can’t seem to do as much work as the night’s. Maybe she could ask for a pay rise. “Did you hear about our friend upstairs?” She paused, with a questioned ‘hmm’. “Turns out, he’s under strict ‘no flying’ rules. They want to drive him back to Pittsburgh.”

“No,” Lyndsey gasped, turning around. “That’s like… a gazillion miles!”

Jackie scoffed. “I know. At least a week driving, because he wouldn’t be able to stay cooped up in the car that long. What a bitch that would be.”

“No thanks,” Lyndsey agreed, shocked that the hospital would suggest discharging him in the first place. For someone who missed basically a whole season with concussion symptoms, you’d want to take full care to get him back to doing what he does best as soon as possible. Sitting in a car for that long? She’d rather stab herself in the eye with a poker.

The rest of the night flew by. Ambulance officers, broken bones, even someone under arrest with a bullet wound kept the hours ticking by so fast, no one in the ER could really keep up. To be short staffed at any work place sucks, but when you’re dragging nurses from a seemingly quiet delivery ward to help out, you know that it’s been a long night.

After what felt like her tenth cup of tea, Lyndsey drained the mug and placed it in the sink to be washed. Her eyes were starting to burn from staring at illegible doctors scribble and bright lights and she couldn’t wait to get home and just pass out straight away. Her beeper caught her attention, with a message to call level 2’s reception desk. Frowning, she made her way to the nearest phone.

“Hi, someone paged me? It’s Lyndsey.”

“Hi honey, it’s Kath. Would you mind coming up here for a minute?”

Agreeing, she made her way up through the elevator, her feet dragging too much to even consider taking one flight of stairs. Once the doors dinged and slid open, she was met with pandemonium, something that she had never seen in her entire life. There were people everywhere; with microphones and cameras, notepads in hand, some guy wearing a business shirt and tie, with only board shorts underneath. That was weird.

“Kath, what’s-"

“They’re only after one person, and I’m trying to get hold of more security but someone in room 8 is buzzing for a nurse and I’m all alone right now!” Kath seemed exasperated, before turning back to the phone and barking at someone to send all of the security to level two. “Would you mind just getting in there? I can’t find Doctor Michaels at all.”

The desperation in her voice was something Lyndsey understood; every nurse had been at her breaking point but forced to keep it together at one point in their careers. Nodding, she manoeuvred her way through the fuss of people, who were being held back by only two security guards and a couple of people she vaguely remembered from the night before. The security let her pass, and she burst through the door before shutting it close behind her, hoping someone didn’t manage to get any footage.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE?!”

“Mike, Jesus Christ, my head.” A muffled voice croaked from behind the man stood in front of her and Lyndsey took a deep breath.

“I have no idea, they’re calling more security, but it seems that Edmonton’s sports reporters found you,” She replied, moving around him to check the IV set up, attached to Sidney’s arm.

He had his head back against the pillows, his eyes closed tight. There was a deep cut against his left cheek bone, that had been tended to and was now held together with stitches. His entire left side of his face was swollen and deep purple with bruising. He bottom lip was twice the size it normally was, which was still big enough naturally it probably had all the Hollywood actresses jealous.

She knew now was not the time to get all starstruck by the captain of her favourite hockey team, so she settle with a gentle hand on his forearm to get his attention. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes opened blearily, and he moved his head slowly to the right to see another new face staring at him. That’s the one thing Sidney Crosby hated about hospitals - unless you’re in there for a while, you never really see the same face twice. For someone so hung up on routine, it unnerved him. “Peachy.”

She laughed, and gave him a ‘oh I bet you are’ look. “Well, I was called up from the ER - someone told me you buzzed for a nurse?” She locked eyes with the coach.

“He said that he couldn’t see properly out of his eye.”

“My left,” He muttered, badly considering his jaw was broken.

“Crosby, stop talking, they haven’t screwed your face back together yet.” Sidney listened to his trainer and sighed, dropping his eyes again. Lyndsey took her light out of her pocket and checked his pupils. Sidney groaned and shut his eyes quickly.

“Sorry, I know it hurts,” She said quietly. Holding up one finger, she put it in front of her. “Do you think you could possibly look just straight ahead and when I move my finger, tell me when it disappears?” He peeked through his long lashes at her and swallowed with a small, one bounce, nod. Moving to the right of him, he focussed on the door as she leant as far over as she felt comfortable. When she moved back to his left, it took less than 2 seconds before he muttered ‘there’.

“What does that mean?”

Frowning, Lyndsey found her pager and sent a message to Doctor Michaels. She knew he was on call tonight, and hoped that he’d been brought up to speed on the case, even though he was down in the ER.

“I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Please, call me Mike.”

She nodded. “I’ve just paged the doctor who was on call last night as Sidney was brought in, I’m hoping he’s been brought up to speed on the case but if he hasn’t, he’ll know the symptoms anyway.”

“Is it bad?” Both their heads turned towards the man sitting in the bed, who frowned as best he could with half his face blown up like a balloon.

With a smile, she put a hand on his shoulder, and was surprised by how much warmth radiated off him through his t shirt. Must be all that muscle working hard constantly after work outs. “I’ll let the doctor examine you first, it’s obviously relating to your concussion.”

“Dear fucking Lord, get them out of here.” Turning, she saw the doctor she had contacted, standing in the room once he’d closed the door, looking as mad as someone could possibly be. “Pardon my French, but the press are vultures. Hey 87, how’s the face?”

That was one thing about Doctor Michaels. He didn’t care if you were a regular Joe, or the Queen of England. A patient is a patient, no one should get the special treatment just because they might have their face plastered all over a city or because they've scored the "Golden Goal" or were the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Or whatever.

Sidney laughed as best he could. “Can’t wait to shoot a Sports Illustrated cover.”

Lyndsey bit her lip. She might have browsed through the last magazine cover he shot for some health mag. It’s not like the guy was bad looking or anything. The fact that Kate had sent her a picture of the magazine cover from Australia proved that she was only human.

“Ooh, please do. I’ll get you to autograph a copy and then sell it to the highest bidding nurse here. Lyndsey, what would you pay?” Michaels was having a ball. What is it with doctors keeping their heads screwed on 19 hours into a work day? Flushing red, she cleared her throat and moved to the bed.

“Sidney’s vision is blacked out from 30 degrees on his left eye, I didn’t see the MRI results so I thought it was best I called you.”

Frowning, the doctor and nurse quickly got through an examination, both agreeing that another scan was in order. The two of them shared a glance; the scan was only going to confirm what they already knew - Crosby’s brain was swelling, which could lead to a range of complications.

Sidney just sat there and listened to the three non concussed humans talk like he wasn’t there. Part of him was used to it; press conferences generally ended up being questions about you, but not asked to you. And he knew he was in no frame of mind to argue about what the possibility could be. He had been woken up every hour, on the hour since he got to the hospital, and he wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and sleep for a week. Hopefully it was nothing serious so that he could have the surgery to fix his jaw, but he knew from past experience that couldn’t happen until the concussion initially cooled off.

“You still with us Sidney?” He gave a thumbs up and opened his eyes a little. “Okay, well, we’re going to send you back for another MRI - it could be a number of things, but I’m thinking it might be a little bit of brain swelling. Sometimes this happens, and you know by now that it’s usually just a case of waiting it out. But I want to make sure I’m right first.” The doctor winked, before walking to the door and opening it slightly. “Coast is clear,” He whispered, before stealthy making his exit.

Lyndsey rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “In case you couldn’t tell, he used to be in paediatrics.” Sidney smiled, it hurt too much to laugh. “I’ll let you try to get some rest, until someone comes to check on you soon.” She checked his IV again to be sure, and headed for the door.

“It was nice to meet you,” Sidney mumbled, with a small wave. She smiled brightly, nodding at the both of them with a quiet ‘you, too’ as she left.



She checked her watch as she changed into her normal clothes, rubbing her eyes behind her glasses as she calculated the amount of overtime she had worked in the last day. By now it was 1pm, and it seemed that every man and his dog had decided that Thursday morning was the day to get into some form of mess. Being the nurse she is, she couldn’t just leave. Everything was already backlogged as it was from the night before, so she tended to what she could and helped out until a day nurse came and removed her from her chair, and walked her all the way to her locker.

“Get some rest girl. It’s your day off.”

Sighing, she shut her brain off and walked out, checking her cell for messages. She didn’t look up for about 5 minutes and it wasn’t until Kath called her name that she realised she had rode the elevator up to floor two, instead of down to the garage.

“You okay?”

Lyndsey flushed. “I’m so brain dead, I’m meant to be going to my car.”

Kath smiled and petted her arm. “I thought you were coming back to check on our resident super star. Not that he needs any more attention, dear God. The poor boy, makes you wonder how he hasn’t lost his head.” She walked back to her desk and picked up three different coloured post-it notes. “Phone numbers. From nurses. Taped to his bed side table. I mean, really.”

“That is insanity,” Lyndsey laughed. “How’s he doing?”

Kath sighed, looking at test results in front of her. “Doctor Michaels was right; swelling on the right frontal lobe. He’s got another 24 hour observation, but I think he’s at the point of exhaustion that no matter what we do, the next time he falls asleep he’s gonna be out like a light for a few hours.” Lyndsey nodded, looking through the gap in the wall at the desks to seem room number eight. From this angle, it looked just like any other door. Security seemed to have done their job, for now. “You were on when he came in?”

“Yeah,” She sighed, looking down at her bandaged arm. “But he was up to scans within in 10 minutes.”

“Well, I’m going-“ The phone rang from beside the both of them, the older nurse answering the call. After a few moments, she picked up a post-it and scribbled, before handing it to Lyndsey and turning back to her computer, punching in whatever she was being told. Can you do the vitals check?

Nodding, Lyndsey waved goodbye and headed to the room that she was in no more than a few hours ago. With a quiet knock, she opened the door to find the room empty, bar the person in the bed. She put her bag down on a chair and went to his side, checking the heart rate monitor and his IV drip. She could tell he was asleep, and always hated having to wake concussion patients, because she knew how good sleep was to some people. She gently shook his shoulder, the muscles soft and warm underneath her hand.

With a start and a sharp intake of breath he jerked his head slightly, before groaning, a frown forming in between his eyebrows. “Sorry to wake you,” She whispered, as his hand without an IV attached went to his head. “Standard procedure.”

His eyes opened a little, as his head pounded from the shake of his head. He was over not being able to sleep. He knew why they were waking him, and having been through all of this more than once, he tried to be understanding. It was proving difficult. Sidney Crosby and a lack of sleep don’t mix.

Obviously, Sidney Crosby and blocking slap shots on goal don’t mix either.

He looked up to see the nurse from before, and was happy to see it was a familiar face. As familiar as they could be in these circumstances anyway. With a croak, he muttered “hello again.”

“Hi,” She replied, standing up fully now that he was awake. “I know you’re tired, but I was asked to check on you. Are you feeling any better?”

Her kind words made him shrug, shaking his head slowly. The pain in his jaw was finally putting up a fight with the morphine, and then pounding in his head was just about at breaking point. He hoped the swelling on his brain would go down, so that he could have the surgery to at least fix his jaw. Or at best, get him on a plane back to Pittsburgh.

“It’s home time?” He commented, taking in her casual attire. He noticed her arm was bandaged and took no time at all pointing it out. “Trouble in the ER?”

“Oh, that,” She blushed, covering the bandage with her arm. “No.” Clearing her throat, she sat down on the chair next to his bed. “I was on duty when you were brought in, and was going over your notes when I walked past your skates. It accidentally nicked me.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised instantly, feeling bad that he’d hurt someone trying to help him.

“Don’t be, I’ve had worse,” She shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. “I thought you’d have someone in this room at all times.”

Looking around, Sid noticed that he was in fact alone, apart from the nurse beside him. “Maybe they all went back to Pittsburgh,” he joked. Although half of him wishes it was true so that they’d leave him alone. She laughed quietly, and shook her head. “What’s your name?”

“Lyndsey,” She smiled, and shook his hand when he held it out.

“Are you a hockey fan?” She bit her lip and looked down. That’s a yes. For God’s sake Crosby, you’re lying in a hospital bed with a broken brain and half your face falling off. Now’s not the time to try and be suave. “Who’s your team?”

She cleared her throat and looked him dead straight in the eye - at least the one he could see clearly out of it. “O Captain, my Captain,” she admitted, with a slight blush and a wave of her hand in his direction.

Inside, Sid was happy. He was glad that he’d met one nurse here who wasn’t trying to leave numbers for him to never call whenever they played the Oilers. Lyndsey on the other hand, was beside herself. Here she was, sitting next to Sidney Crosby basically telling him that she was a fan girl and he was half conscious and awaiting surgery. She clearly needed to step up her game. Or completely forget about it, because he was a patient, not even her patient and that was just asking for trouble and drama.

“Glad you’ve got a good team to cheer for.” He grimaced before closing his eyes again, taking a deep breath and clenching the sheets in his fist. He’d already thrown up once from the nausea - and with a broken jaw it was pain he never wanted to experience ever again. Letting his breath out slowly through his nose, he swallowed the saliva that inevitably collected in his mouth, using every bit of strength he had to keep his stomach in check. He did not need to hurl in front of this nurse. Not that she wouldn’t have seen it before but… no. He wasn’t going to put her through that.

Lyndsey switched to nurse mode and her eyes flicked to the monitors, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But she knew she was keeping him from resting, so she put her bag back over her shoulder and stood out of her chair.

"I wish I could give you some good news, but someone will be back to check on you in about an hour again. Sorry," she grimaced and he gave her a thumbs up, leaning back into the pillows. Lyndsey knew that there was a fair chance he'd be transferred back to Pittsburgh as soon as possible, so she swallowed that nervous feeling in her throat and gave him one last smile. "I'm off for the next two days, so if I don't get to see you before you go home, it was really nice to meet you."


He smiled. "Sorry it was under these circumstances," he muttered, with a small shrug.


"Not at all. Glad I could help, somewhat."

She glanced out the door to check the coast was clear if anyone hanging around the room that shouldn't be, but she couldn't see anyone but medical personnel. Opening her mouth to say goodbye, she quickly paused, noticing that he was already asleep.



After finally getting home and eating as much cereal as she could before she passed out in her bowl, Lyndsey collapsed in her bed, not even bothering to get under the covers.

When she woke up the shrill tone of her phone beeping, she couldn’t help but feel like only ten minutes had passed. A glance at her watch told her that she had been asleep for nearly ten hours.

So… how’s our favourite patient?

Trust Kate to wake her up to dig deeper for info on the hockey superstar who had seemingly taken residence at her hospital.

Probably in a lot of pain. He came out of surgery yesterday for his jaw.

The part where he asked about her? Yeah, she was leaving that minor detail out for now. She made a mental note to ask Sam next time she saw him just what exactly Crosby asked about her, if at all. For all she knew, he could be making it all up to mess with her head.

Dear God, he must be high as a kite off of morphine.

Lyndsey laughed into the darkness of her bedroom, her screen illuminating the space before she flicked on the light switch, searching for actual pyjamas.

Have you talked to him at all?

She sighed, not wanting to sound like a creepy stalker by saying ‘yes’. But she knew the wrath that would find her from Australia was much worse than the lie.

A little. It’s hard to have a conversation with a broken jaw… I caved and told him I was a Pens fan.

AND YOU DIDN’T SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST?!?!?

Changing into her pyjamas, she headed to the kitchen. A Nutella and banana sandwich would hopefully help kick the headache that was beginning to build around her temples. The house was quiet - her mom was gone for the night with her aunt - so she decided to make the most of it and settled in with a good book and a long bath.

She hadn’t really taken time for herself lately, the mundane routine of work/sleep/eat/repeat becoming her life. Sure, she saw her friends every now and again at the odd house party or when they went out to dinner, but it was hard to organise a day at the mall when she worked while they slept, and vice versa.

The bath had nearly begun to overflow while she was lost in thought, so she quickly drained some of the water then hopped in, the muscles in her back instantly relieved.



Sidney leaned further into the pillows, trying again to get as comfortable as possible. It had been 5 days since he was brought into hospital, but it felt like a lifetime. The organisation had left a team assistant behind to keep him and them updated and to be used as a point of contact between Pittsburgh and Edmonton. The Penguins had gone home to play Tampa Bay, and they won, 5-4 in shoot out.

There was one thing Sidney hated more than losing, and that was his team winning without him.

He had no idea what time it was, what day it was, and sometime’s when he woke up he really had to concentrate to remember the year. He knew all of this was part of having a concussion and so he tried to be patient and sleep the days away. Except, he was a professional athlete, who’s body was used to moving at high speeds, most days of the week. Lying still was not his forte.

Throw in not being able to eat food, or do anything normal people would to pass the time (like reading or watching TV), he was glad he couldn’t open his mouth to talk because he knew he would insult the next person who spoke to him, whether he meant to or not.

He sat up and reach for the cup placed on the bedside table, the straw gently resting on his lips as he took a sip. He pressed the buzzer for a nurse like he was told to do when he wanted to move from the bed to the bathroom, and tried to ignore the dull ache on his left side of his face.

“Hey there, how’s it going?” He looked up to see an older lady, who shut the door and smiled his way. “What’cha need, hun?”

He pointed to the door that lead to the ensuite, and she nodded, walking over to help him out of bed. He was finally allowed to wear his own clothes now that his post op checks were done, but he also knew he’d only packed a couple of spare t-shirts, thinking he was only going away for a 4 day road trip.

That was over a week ago.

Her name tag read ‘Kath’, and he smiled appreciably at her as she put a hand on his shoulder while the other grabbed his IV, walking over to the door. He was glad that he didn’t actually have to be accompanied to the bathroom even though he had to pee in front of enough random doctors during the season for drug testing. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t feel nonplussed about it at a hospital. Nurses deal with people like him all the time.

He glanced up as he was washing his hands and caught his reflection in the mirror. The person staring back was near unrecognisable. He turned his head left to right under the dull lighting, and could see just where the puck had made contact with his lower jaw, and he counted 6 stitches just below his ear. He could feel the wire keeping his jaw shut with his tongue, and he sighed as he took a step back to see how the once tight fitting shirt was considerably looser around his upper body.

He had worked for months to build up and keep his weight for the season, and now he was back to looking like a rookie 6 years ago. And he knew it was only going to get worst before it could get better.

“You alright in there?”

He hummed in response and turned off the tap, holding onto the IV drip as it rolled beside him. He took careful steps and opened the door, nodding to Kath as she unfolded her arms and reached for his elbow.

“Sure is a shame they wired that jaw shut, there’s a lot of people in this hospital that would’ve loved to say hello to you. You’re a pretty big deal,” She laughed, helping him sit back into his bed. “Even though you are in Oilers territory,” She whispered with a wink, placing the sheet over his legs.

He gave her a thumbs up and a shrug, feeling frustrated that he couldn’t communicate at all like how he wanted to. He made a motion with his hands to symbolise a pad and pen, and Kath clicked hers out from her scrubs, handing him a notepad from her pocket. He jotted down his message and handed it back, moving the pillow from his lower back up a little higher.

“Nonsense, you’re no pain at all.” Kath waved her hand at him and clicked her fingers in thought. “You know what, I’ve got something that’ll help. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He sighed again, leaning back into his bed and stared at the the wall. He knew that the more he wanted out of this place, the slower his time to leave would come, so he distracted himself by thoughts of what to buy his family for Christmas, knowing that there was a very slim chance he’d be playing hockey before the holidays.

When the door clicked open, he saw the same nurse, holding a large board and a marker, which she placed on his lap. He smiled at her, and he could feel his eyes lighting up for the first time in days. Scribbling ‘thank you’ across the board, he flipped it over to show her and she laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder, the way his mother would.

“Don’t go talking to yourself too much, now,” she mused, making her way out to leave his room.

He tapped on the board again to get her attention, and held up a hand to make her wait before he quickly wiped off his note with his hand and wrote another. It sort of made his eyes hurt to watch the letters appear as he wrote them, but he pushed it aside and flipped the board around again, watching Kath’s eyes dance across the message.

She smiled at him again and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He gave her another thumbs up and turned the board around.

Can you ask Lyndsey to come say hi?