Hockey is a Rough Sport
Hockey is a rough spot and you know what you are getting into when you send your child onto a frozen sheet of ice and hope for the best. As checking gets involved then you up the ante on potential hospital visits. Knowing the risk on an intellectual level is a far cry from the stomach dropping moment your child sustains their first injury.
Four games into her first Bantam season at an away game my 5 foot nothing, 90 lbs. soaking wet daughter went to play a puck along the boards and paid the price. Watching not far away trying to wrangle a six and three-year-old into sitting still, I saw the hit (clean), listened to the boards rattle and play continue waiting for her to pop back into view as she had plenty of times before; until she didn’t.
That Sinking Moment
It doesn’t sink in right away. You just stand there staring. The empty space remains as the coach slide-walks to the huddled mass on the ice. I stepped closer to see my daughter laid out trying to clutch at her back. She was moving so I took that as a positive sign.
I was at complete odds ends. Do you head toward the bench? Wait for an indication from the coaches? Head to the locker room? The bench waved me over, so that solved that problem, but I realized there was no manual or guide for that moment. Parental instinct at odds with what’s allowed or acceptable; that’s a stellar existential crisis to navigate on the fly.
The coach was thrilled that on instinct she adjusted the angle of her head at the last moment or she would have gone headlong into the boards. Well, that’s some sunshine and rainbows to lighten the moment – the realization that in a game of inches a slight head tilt prevented grievous injury. I wasn’t ready to relish the moment as a triumph of survival instincts.
The Aftermath
The hit ended her game, but late in the third it wasn’t the end of the world. Her back, wrist and the entire right side of her body hurt, but she insisted she was fine. With a game the next morning we decided to wait and see how she was in the am.
She was set to play in the morning despite her new black and blue skin motif. The wrist was the biggest issue, but how do you argue out that one? Answer: you don’t. At that age, barring obvious danger, you have to let them make that call. She made it through the next game, but we insisted on a doctor visit afterwards.
The bruises got worse in the days to come, the wrist spent a week plus in a brace and we figured out how to jam the glove over it, but she healed. For my part, the next time she took the ice for a game I find myself holding my breath. Injuries happen and I will never be prepared.
