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icarusOkay, this is the section that really belongs on the end of part seven, but oh well. For this reason it is very short, but I am posting the next part right now. I just want... well, you'll see why I want the story to break here.
The next chapter of the story is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected.
Part one: 'Get back out there.' – 'No. I'm taking up hockey. It'll *hurt* less.'
Part two: 'So why do we have to skate in the nude again?'
Part three: Naturally, John had brought the boom box but had forgotten to bring any music.
Part four: Rodney wondered if John knew 'Mustang Sally' was a favorite with strippers the world over.
Part five: 'This is hero worship, isn't it?'
Part six: 'Me coach. You student. You keep forgetting that lately.'
Part seven: It was just hockey, not a cardinal sin.
Part eight: I'm sure when we were being chase by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks.
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
John swung his legs where he sat on the table, shoulders hunched as he leaned on his hands. He waited somewhat less than patiently for the doctor to return. He looked up as the door opened.
"Well, laddie, the pain is simple tendonitis. I can give you something for that. You merely need to--"
"Yeah, yeah, alternate hot and cold on it, I know the drill," John cut him off and made ready to leave, reaching for his coat.
"What I am more concerned about is this older injury." The doctor flipped through pages in his file.
John wrinkled his nose and narrowed an eye at the doctor warily. It was never a good sign when they actually read his file.
"You had a torn anterior cruciate ligament which is fairly serious," the doctor bobbed his head, earnest, his forehead creased with concern. "Given the tendonitis I am not convinced you are giving it the proper time to heal."
"I'm an athlete. I know how to take care of my body. It's very important to me," John said with his most charming 'trust me' smile, reaching for the script.
"Begging your pardon, but in my experience athletes are the worst when it comes to taking care of themselves," the doctor said in a pleasant apologetic voice, brimming with sincerity. His smile was knowing and rather affectionate. "I am not asking you to stop doing whatever sport it is that you do."
"I'm a skater."
The doctor nodded as if unsurprised. "I only ask that you strengthen the muscles around that knee." He made a cupping gesture with his hands, holding John's gaze. "That will support and allow the ligament to heal."
"I'm doing the exercises," John nodded.
He had been. Religiously.
"And are you avoiding undue stress to the injured leg?" John opened his mouth, but the doctor shot him a quelling look, his eyebrows raised. "Don't lie to me. Because this," he held up his prescription, "tells me that you are not."
"It's my take-off leg. For my jumps. I need it to practice my quads -- the quad flip in particular," John explained. "I'm going to land it in competition. It's going to happen." John's jaw was set.
"I have no idea what that is, but you can't be doing any of this jumping for a while."
"I'll be all right."
"It could snap like a twig," the doctor said with sudden intense concern, causing John to look up in surprise. "The human body is not designed to take that kind of punishment. And certain parts of your body are particularly fragile."
John smiled at him doubtfully. "I'm sure back when we were being chased by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks."
"Aye. And the average human lifespan for most of our history was thirty-five years, but I trust you want to walk a wee bit longer than that. And skate longer too," the doctor added, obviously determined to make an impression.
John considered his words in disturbed silence, staring at his folded hands.
"Skate," the doctor said gently, urging him, "do your exercises. Both will help you build strength. But you will do better if you take care of this now." He held out the prescription to John. "I expect to see you in three weeks. We will talk about the jumping then."
As John reached out take it from his hand, he found the doctor had gripped it tighter, waiting for a response.
John nodded once. Only then did the doctor release it.
"I will expect you to keep your word," the doctor frowned, quite serious. Then he smiled and indicated John's chart. "Besides. I know where you live. And I have a very scary secretary," he joked.
As John left the doctor's office to fill his prescription, he paused outside the door and sighed, his hands in his pockets. He dug at the sidewalk with his shoe. The little bell on the door jangled as another patient stepped through. He pulled out the bottle of pills he needed to refill and dug a fingernail under the label, lifting an edge: John Sheppard. Age 28.
He'd been competing for twelve years, and felt the pressure of time. A lot of doctors would have told him not to skate at all. John looked up at the sky, tossed the pills in the air and caught them with a little clattering sound. Then he set a course for Rodney's.
Well. The drugstore and then Rodney's.
Part nine.
The next chapter of the story is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected.
Part one: 'Get back out there.' – 'No. I'm taking up hockey. It'll *hurt* less.'
Part two: 'So why do we have to skate in the nude again?'
Part three: Naturally, John had brought the boom box but had forgotten to bring any music.
Part four: Rodney wondered if John knew 'Mustang Sally' was a favorite with strippers the world over.
Part five: 'This is hero worship, isn't it?'
Part six: 'Me coach. You student. You keep forgetting that lately.'
Part seven: It was just hockey, not a cardinal sin.
Part eight: I'm sure when we were being chase by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks.
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
John swung his legs where he sat on the table, shoulders hunched as he leaned on his hands. He waited somewhat less than patiently for the doctor to return. He looked up as the door opened.
"Well, laddie, the pain is simple tendonitis. I can give you something for that. You merely need to--"
"Yeah, yeah, alternate hot and cold on it, I know the drill," John cut him off and made ready to leave, reaching for his coat.
"What I am more concerned about is this older injury." The doctor flipped through pages in his file.
John wrinkled his nose and narrowed an eye at the doctor warily. It was never a good sign when they actually read his file.
"You had a torn anterior cruciate ligament which is fairly serious," the doctor bobbed his head, earnest, his forehead creased with concern. "Given the tendonitis I am not convinced you are giving it the proper time to heal."
"I'm an athlete. I know how to take care of my body. It's very important to me," John said with his most charming 'trust me' smile, reaching for the script.
"Begging your pardon, but in my experience athletes are the worst when it comes to taking care of themselves," the doctor said in a pleasant apologetic voice, brimming with sincerity. His smile was knowing and rather affectionate. "I am not asking you to stop doing whatever sport it is that you do."
"I'm a skater."
The doctor nodded as if unsurprised. "I only ask that you strengthen the muscles around that knee." He made a cupping gesture with his hands, holding John's gaze. "That will support and allow the ligament to heal."
"I'm doing the exercises," John nodded.
He had been. Religiously.
"And are you avoiding undue stress to the injured leg?" John opened his mouth, but the doctor shot him a quelling look, his eyebrows raised. "Don't lie to me. Because this," he held up his prescription, "tells me that you are not."
"It's my take-off leg. For my jumps. I need it to practice my quads -- the quad flip in particular," John explained. "I'm going to land it in competition. It's going to happen." John's jaw was set.
"I have no idea what that is, but you can't be doing any of this jumping for a while."
"I'll be all right."
"It could snap like a twig," the doctor said with sudden intense concern, causing John to look up in surprise. "The human body is not designed to take that kind of punishment. And certain parts of your body are particularly fragile."
John smiled at him doubtfully. "I'm sure back when we were being chased by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks."
"Aye. And the average human lifespan for most of our history was thirty-five years, but I trust you want to walk a wee bit longer than that. And skate longer too," the doctor added, obviously determined to make an impression.
John considered his words in disturbed silence, staring at his folded hands.
"Skate," the doctor said gently, urging him, "do your exercises. Both will help you build strength. But you will do better if you take care of this now." He held out the prescription to John. "I expect to see you in three weeks. We will talk about the jumping then."
As John reached out take it from his hand, he found the doctor had gripped it tighter, waiting for a response.
John nodded once. Only then did the doctor release it.
"I will expect you to keep your word," the doctor frowned, quite serious. Then he smiled and indicated John's chart. "Besides. I know where you live. And I have a very scary secretary," he joked.
As John left the doctor's office to fill his prescription, he paused outside the door and sighed, his hands in his pockets. He dug at the sidewalk with his shoe. The little bell on the door jangled as another patient stepped through. He pulled out the bottle of pills he needed to refill and dug a fingernail under the label, lifting an edge: John Sheppard. Age 28.
He'd been competing for twelve years, and felt the pressure of time. A lot of doctors would have told him not to skate at all. John looked up at the sky, tossed the pills in the air and caught them with a little clattering sound. Then he set a course for Rodney's.
Well. The drugstore and then Rodney's.
Part nine.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 07:23 am (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 07:09 am (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:11 pm (UTC)Oh, heavens, they have ganged up upon him and now he *really* can't do jumps. Poor thing. How did he tear the ligament anyway?
And his argument with his doctor! The debater in me winced at all his reasons which were not really reasons at all and isn't that sooo him?
no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 07:22 am (UTC)Don't you love his logic?
"You are not taking care of yourself based on this evidence."
Answer: the mere fact I am an athlete means the evidence is not true.
"Are you stressing out your leg (bear in mind we have you dead to rights)?"
Answer: I need to stress out my leg because I'm an athlete. Let me tell you how important it is.
"The damage to your leg indicates you are harming it. I, as a medical professional, tell you that there are limits."
Answer: In the stone age I bet we went beyond those limits.
*eyeroll*
Icarus