Chapter 17

The first week after surgery was an excruciating smudge on my memory. I was always one of those do it yourself people, and having to have someone else do everything for me was killer. Even though I was extremely grateful that Sid put his things on hold for me, it killed me to not be able to do anything.
My nauseous-ness didn’t cease for at least three days, so every time I got up and moved, I took a bag with me, preparing myself for the inevitable anesthesia induced vomiting. Everyday I’d feel just fine on the couch, eating and joking with Sid when he was home, but as soon as it came to getting up to go to the bathroom, my day would be ruined. I took to drinking very little fluids to keep myself from having to move.
The office chair was still my preferred choice of mobility seeing as my hip was sore from where they injected the blocking agents. Anytime I tried to raise my leg myself, I’d have to stop due to an immense amount of pain that would shoot up my hip and through my torso. It seemed as if everything but my knee hurt; my hand hurt from where they initially tried to put the IV, my hip hurt, and my head hurt.
-
Christmas was a dull blur due to an excessive amount of pain-killers I had taken the night before. The block had worn off on my knee in the middle of the night and I had woken up on the couch in tear-worthy pain.
“Sidney!” I screamed, even though he was asleep on the next couch over. He sat up and looked around before realizing it was me that had yelled.
“I’m here! What is it?!” he asked, right by my side within seconds. Tears were leaking out of my eyes by now.
“My knee hurts!” I wailed. “I need my pain-killers! Now!” He had moved them back into the kitchen because I hadn’t needed them, but at my words, he was sprinting into the kitchen, feverishly looking through the cabinet with his other medications. As soon as he found them he was back by my side unscrewing the cap. I was close to sobs by this point. The pain from my knee was radiating up and down my leg; it honestly felt like someone was trying to drive an ice pick under my knee cap.
“Here,” he said handing me a pill and a bottle of water.
“I’m going to need more than this,” I managed between the waves of pain.
“Here’s another,” he said without hesitation. I put both pills on my tongue, took a swig of water and swallowed before I had time to think about how big the pills were. He stood over me until the drugs kicked in and I felt myself getting woozy and finally drifting back off to sleep.
-
Exactly a week after my surgery, Sid drove me to my physical therapy appointment. I had yet to bend my knee and I was not looking forward to doing so. Sid walked me in and sat with me until they called me into a high-ceilinged room with multiple training tables, all with pillows.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, picking up on the fact that I was practically shaking. “I’ll be in the car when you’re done.” He kissed my forehead before I crutched myself through the doors and over to a curtained off table where I was told Ken would see me shortly. Ken? What kind of a name is that? I’ve never met a Ken in my life. Like Malibu Barbie and Ken. I busied myself with picking at my hangnails that had gotten out of control the past week and staring around at the small area I was in. There was hand sanitizer on the wall to my right and a chair on my left. Just as I was beginning to inspect the ceiling and the array of lights, Ken walked into my little cubicle of cloth. He was relatively tall with short brown hair and a mulberry colored birthmark residing on one side of his neck. He wore wire glasses and had a serious air about him.
“Alright, so you had knee surgery when?” he asked, pulling up a rolling chair I failed to notice. I swallowed and took a breath.
“A week ago.”
“How’s it feel?” he asked, his seriousness abating a bit.
“Pretty good… I haven’t bent it, so I don’t really know. It feels fine just sitting here,” I rambled. I had to make myself shut up. Whenever I’m nervous, I ramble, and something about being there in such a tiny space with a not unattractive man, getting ready to do excruciating physical therapy, made me nervous. He just looked at me and laughed, all seriousness gone. It was then that I noticed the gold band on his left ring finger, and for some reason, that relieved some of the nervous energy I had.
“Alright, we’re going to start off with some simple things like heel slides and leg extensions,” he said, getting up and moving the curtain back to its original resting place against the wall. “Why’s that on your brace?” he asked, getting up and really looking at it for the first time.
“It’s a dish towel. The brace was hurting, so I put a dish towel to keep it from rubbing and chaffing. It looks dumb, I know, but it helps…” I trailed off. I was rambling again.
“I know what it is. I just had no idea why it was there,” he stated, with a small laugh. I just nodded in agreement. He assigned me my exercises and before I knew it, and with a minimal amount of pain, I was done and had my brace back on, ready to leave.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Ken said as I crutched outside to where Sidney was waiting in the Range Rover. I still couldn’t get over the name Ken. I backed into the door leading outside to open it and made my way to the car. Snow was beginning to fall, and it just dawned on me that it was New Years Eve. The days had blurred together and I was losing track of time.
“It’s New Years Eve,” I said to Sidney as I got myself in the car.
“I know,” he said, kissing me quickly. “We’re going to have some fun.”
“Sid, I can barely move. I’m not going to have some awkward sex with you,” I snapped.
“I never said anything about sex,” he said grinning at me.
“Oh, well, what do you have in mind?” I asked him.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said and kissed me again before driving in the direction of his house.
-
Nothing really special jumped out at me when we got back to his house, other than the fact that I had practically moved in without having to lift a finger. Every time Melissa brought me something, she’d bring another change of clothes along with my iPod or whatever it was that I demanded.
“So what’s the surprise?” I asked him as I plopped myself down on his couch and arranged my foot up on a pillow.
“I have to make it first,” he said. “Don’t be so pushy.”
“Oh, so you’re making it…” I said with a neutral tone, trailing off, letting him draw his own conclusions as to what I meant by it. It could have meant multiple things, one of which: Gross. Whatever it is I don’t want it now. Another: Yippee! There’s nothing I enjoy more than something made by Sidney Crosby. Or even this: I’d rather choke on a spoon. He chose to think that I was insulting him, and he was right.
“Your attempt at pancakes wasn’t so good on Christmas,” I said, backing up my insult.
“I got Geno to help me this time,” he said defensively. “He’s a good cook.”
“So are you hiding him in a closet or something?” I asked jokingly, but when Sid’s face turned a bright fuchsia, I knew he wasn’t kidding. “Sidney Crosby!” I said with a smile. “You snuck a Russian hockey player in to help you make me dinner? That’s actually really sweet,” I said, my tone softening. “So where is he? I’ve never met him,” I said, but then realized that I probably looked like a mess.
“I’ll go get him,” Sid said, excited that I wasn’t mad at him. Even I couldn’t predict how my emotions and personality would be day-to-day, and it didn’t help that I had gotten my period a few days before. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature and the hormonal roller coaster I was now forced to ride. I would be happy to ride a roller coaster any day, but if it was accompanied by hormones, I’d have to pass. Sid came down the stairs with Evgeni Malkin in tow. It was then that I realized just how short Sid really was. Geno towered over Sid at six foot three, and Sid was, at best, 5’11”. I was normally on the more generous side of 5’10”, but I never thought anything of it since Sid and I are the same height, and I never felt the need to wear heels, so it never really mattered to me.
“I cook food,” were the first words out of Geno’s mouth when he saw me. He flashed his crooked grin and continued in his broken English. “Sid say he need help. I say I cook,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks Geno. I really appreciate you helping Rachael Ray over here,” I said with a laugh. Sid just glared at me and Geno looked confused. “That’s a compliment to you Geno,” I said, and he smiled at me while Sid shot me another look.
“So, Geno, help me out here man,” Sid said, tearing his gaze away from mine. “I need help with this roast.”
“I cook,” was all I heard Geno say before I decided I needed a nap.
-
I awoke to the smell of cooking roast, not burning roast, around 6:00 and looked towards the kitchen to make sure I was in the right house. Then I remembered Sidney wasn’t really cooking. It was Geno’s work.
“How’re you boys doing in there?” I yelled in the general direction of the kitchen as I turned on the TV to get ready to watch the ball drop.
“Good!” a mixture of Sid and Geno’s voices yelled back at me.
“It smells good,” I remarked from my place on the couch.
“30 minutes more!” Geno yelled from the kitchen. I settled myself into the couch to wait out the 30 minutes until it was time for me to do my favorite activity: eat.