Hard & Deep: A Football Romance

“Did you bring the contract?” Nikki asked, crossing her arms.

Elsie carefully pulled out a folder with the documents tucked neatly inside. They'd come at nearly ten o'clock PM last night. She'd been up half the night reading them, making sure she understood exactly what she was getting into. She handed them to Nikki, who quickly took them and flipped through them to double check her work.

“So, where's my patient?” Elsie asked, setting down her purse in the wooden chair next to the front door.

“He's in the training room,” Nikki replied. “I want to impress upon you again the need for silence.”

“I will not violate my patient confidentiality,” Elsie said, for the millionth time.

The woman gave her one last hostile look and then led her through the house to the back room. Elsie gasped when she stepped inside, immediately noticing the state-of-the-art equipment that filled it wall-to-wall.

“I'll go get your patient,” Nikki said. “Please wait here.”

Elsie nodded, but didn't look toward her. She was too hypnotized by the equipment.

There has to be at least a million dollars worth of medical equipment here, she thought. This is like a physical trainer's candy store. What kind of athlete could afford all of this?

Her attention was swayed when she heard the familiar creak of crutches. She turned around to see her patient standing in the doorway, with a crutch under each of his arms.

Whoa, she thought, trying to keep her jaw from dropping completely to the floor.

During the interview the day before, Nikki had told Elsie that her patient was in “good” physical shape. That wasn't exactly an accurate description of the kind of shape he was in, though. The guy was in amazing physical condition. Definitely professional athlete territory. In fact, his ultra-muscular chest and torso were obvious, even through his white t-shirt.

But despite how strong his body appeared, he looked exhausted. Beaten up and tired. His bottle-blonde hair was messy and unkempt. His shoulders were slouched forward. A fading purple bruise circled his right eye, making it look like he left a boxing ring after losing a ten-round fight not too long ago.

Elsie approached him and he watched her, his blue eyes never looking away.

“I'm Elizabeth,” she said, holding out a hand. “Most of my friends call me Elsie, though. Either one will do. And you must be...” She paused for a moment, feeling a bit embarrassed for not knowing her patient's name. “I'm sorry, I actually don't know much about you. Your assistant hasn't been telling me anything at all.”

He looked a little surprised, but smiled. “Call me Ollie.” Ollie shifted his weight on the crutches so that he could shake her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well,” Elsie said, glancing over his shoulder to see the woman from the interview walk out the front door without saying goodbye.

Real nice lady, that one, she thought.

“If you'll come over to the table, I'd like to test your range of motion.” Elsie walked slowly toward the exam table in the center of the room, letting Ollie follow behind. “I'll also need to get some history from you. It's just basic stuff, but things that I need to know in order to treat you properly.”

Ollie hobbled over to the table and Elsie took a step back to watch him. Just by seeing the way he used his crutches gave her a head start on her evaluation of the new patient.

He's got strong arms. Clearly right-handed. Seems to compensate well using his left leg, though, she thought, making notes in her mind.

Ollie heaved himself up onto the edge of the table. Elsie took her clipboard and sat on a swivel chair just a few feet away. The seated position put her at a lower elevation than Ollie and really brought into focus just how tall of a man he was. He was much larger than the average guy, and much more muscular too.

This is going to be quite a bit different than treating my usual 80-year-old ladies with hip replacements. It'll be more like when I fix the young farmers, she thought, taking a glance at Ollie. And he's probably just as stubborn as they are, too.

“So tell me, Ollie, how did this injury on your right leg happen?” Elsie asked, holding the clipboard in one hand and her pen in the other. “And also, what other injuries do you have, if any, that I'm not seeing here?”

“I was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago,” he said, pushing his blonde hair off of his forehead.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” she said. “Car wrecks can be traumatizing in more ways than just physically.”

Ollie shrugged. “I'm just glad it wasn't worse. I walked away with just a black eye, a cracked rib, a torn ACL and fourteen stitches. But I'm just happy to have walked away at all, honestly.”

Elsie parted her lips. She was going to ask what caused the accident, but then decided that it was fairly irrelevant. If he didn't want to share, then she wasn't going to pry. It wasn't her job. She wasn't getting paid to ask unnecessary questions, so she decided to keep her curiosity to herself.

“Are there any other injuries that I should be aware of?” she asked. “Any back issues or shoulder problems? Any family history of either of those things?”

Ollie shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really. I did have some whiplash from the accident. My neck was really sore for the first week, but it seems to have subsided for the most part. The doctors at the hospital weren't too worried about that, though. They said it was normal after an accident like mine. Besides all that, I'm as healthy as a horse.”