Tuesday September 18, 2012
Speed City Gymnasium
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:37 PM Local Time
“UNGH!”
With a grunt of pain and frustration, Wendy Briese slammed back-first into the mat, a recipient of a rather high-impact German suplex. For several seconds, she lay staring up at the ceiling, breathing through clenched teeth in a desperate attempt to regain all the air that had just been knocked out of her lungs.
“When the heck did she learn that?” the former No Surrender champion muttered under her breath, a fairly easy task considering she didn’t have any at the moment.
She supposed she oughtn’t had been surprised. It had been over a month since she had sparred with Glenda, one of several local development talents she had hired to work with her during training. The girl was a quick learner, Wendy knew. She’d only been in wrestling for maybe three months, and already she was gaining quite a reputation on the local circuit. Of course, it didn’t help that the girl was a natural born powerhouse- standing well over six feet and fairly north of two hundred pounds.
Wendy’s eyes went wide as a massive- yet feminine- leg suddenly appeared over her head. With no chance to roll out of the way, she threw her hands up, managing to deflect some of the impact from her, as the ring shook as the large rookie’s weight hit the mat. Even with some of it deflected, once again the wind was knocked out of her.
For crying out loud!
She took few more gulps of air, rolling onto her side. Heavens help her, but she was OFF today. Bad training sessions weren’t exactly common for her, but she’d had them before. But she couldn’t remember being this flat in a long, long time. Even taking account Glenda’s clear improvement, there was no excuse for her performance today.
It was about the worst time for this to be happening, too. She was just over a week from coming off a loss to Serafina, one that, from a statistical standpoint, was her worst in a long, long time. It never was good when six-year veterans dropped to rookies, and while she strongly suspected that Serafina was a lot better than the average rookie, having to tap out to her (and losing the title her careeer had been focused around for the last nine months), certainly was a blow to her pride. It didn’t help that she was following it up with this atrocity against and even less experienced rookie.
Especially considering that her first major PPV main event was just a little less than two weeks away. . She was facing five of the best wrestlers in the company, and in a match with enormous stakes. The last thing she needed to do was to embarass herself and let her teammates down.
She felt the back of her T-shirt being grabbed. Glenda was being smart, dragging her to her feet, and not letting her recover. Quickly, Wendy focused her thoughts, trying to shake away her distractions. First thing she needed to do was halt the big woman’s momentum. Maybe if she...
Her elbow flashed out, aiming for Glenda’s gut, but the big woman was expecting it, grabbing her arm, and swinging, reversing the blow’s momentum into an Irish whip. Wendy felt herself bouncing off the ropes, heading back twards the dirty-blonde haired girl, who bent down, waiting for her. Wendy’s mind flashed quickly. Glenda was going for a back body drop, but she was close enough to the ropes where she could... yes.
As Wendy hit the big girl, she threw her weight forward, almost jumping as Glenda stood up, lifting her to flip over. Of course, the intention was for Wendy to simply flip about two hundred seventy degrees, and land flat on her back behind her. So many wrestlers made the mistake of trying to fight the move, which often ended in awkward landings and injuries. But Wendy figured that if you threw momentum into the move, you stood a good chance at flipping a full rotation, landing on your feet.
That was the easy part, of course. The hard part was gauging your distance so that not only did you land on your feet, but your feet landed on the middle rope, setting yourself up for a myriad of counters off the springboard. But Wendy knew immediately she was right on target. Glenda would never see the dropkick coming...
*POP!*
As Wendy’s feet hit the middle rope, a searing pain shot up her right leg, causing her to cry out in agony. She bounced off the ropes at an angle, falling to the canvas on her stomach. Her face scrunched up in pain, her hand over her eyes, she seethed out a muffled scream of agony through clenched teeth.
Luckily for her, Glenda immediately realized something had gone wrong, and didn’t capitalize. “Are.. are you okay?” The sparring partner asked, looking down at the smaller woman, unsure of what to do.
Wendy didn’t respond, her breath coming in labored sobs as she tucked her legs in. Her ankle was screaming a symphony of agony, and the hand she pulled away from her eyes was wet with moisture. She heard three sharp blasts on a whistle- her manager’s unnecessary and belated signal to stop the sparring immediately.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she heard Pollaski demanding as he slid into the ring, kneeling down next to her. She could sense that Glenda still was standing over her too, looking down in concern.
“I... I landed wrong on my ankle... I think I twisted it.” Wendy replied, wincing. Biting the collar of her t-shirt to keep from crying out again, she rolled over onto her back, whimpering slightly as her ankle sent out another wave of pain.
“Stay down, don’t try to get up,” Pollaski ordered, misinterpreting her movements. He glanced around, noticing someone standing nearby at ringside. “Bob, yo! You got ice? We need ice out here!”
The owner of the gym shouted back an affirmative, and Wendy tilted her head to watch the man run off. She didn’t need ice. She needed to get back up and get to training. Wincing again, she worked herself into a sitting position. Pollaski wheeled around on her.
“I said stay down, dammit!”
“I’m fine!” Wendy shot back, although the tears of pain glistening in her eyes and her labored breathing certainly didn’t lend her words much credence. “I just rolled it. I need to walk it off.”
“Are you sure? I thought I heard a crack,” Glenda said, her voice still filled with uncertainty and concern.
Wendy let out a small growl of frustration. It was more of a popping sound than a crack, but she thought she’d heard something too. Glenda’s statement certainly was making it hard to pass off the sound as a figment of her imagination.
“I’m fine,” Wendy repeated again, her stubborness brushing away any concerns. “Just help me up”, she said, trying to rise to her feet. Ignoring Pollaski’s bark of protest, she pushed herself up, Glenda automatically offering her a hand. Wendy barely got off the mat, though, when another pain shot up her leg, and she fell back down to the mat with a gasp of pain.
“Dammit, Wendy! I told you to stay down!” Pollaski snapped, then took a deep breath, looking down at her. “I think you sprained it. Probably badly, if you can’t even put weight on it”
“Dont’ say that,” Wendy protested. “I’m fine. I just need a-”
“You’re going to the doctors,” Pollaski declared, turning to Glenda. “We’re done for the day.”
“No, we’re not...” Wendy protested, even as the gym’s owner handed a bag of ice through the ropes to Pollaski, and he passed it to her. “Give me a minute, I need to...”
“I think he’s right,” Glenda replied, looking nervous. “That doesn’t look so good. You might have broken it.”
“I didn’t break it!” Wendy exclaimed, more in desperation than out of any certainty.
“Well, only one way to be sure,” Pollaski intoned. “Come on, Glenda. Help me get her to my car. I’ll drive her.”
“That’s not really necess-” Wendy’s latest protest was cut off as Pollaski and Glenda grabbed her arms, and forcibly dragged her across the mat to the edge of the ring. Wendy’s eyes narrowed in irritation. It was bad enough that she was hurt, now she was being embarassed?
Pollaski noticed her less than amused reaction. “Have to get you out somehow,” he said with a shrug. Then he and Glenda rolled out of the ring, and dragged Wendy under the bottom rope.
“Don’t even think of carrying me...” Wendy objected
But her manager and sparring partner simply propped her up between them, and helped her towards the door, past several other gawking gymgoers as Wendy slowly hopped on her one good leg. It was slow going, and certainly not her most dignified moment.
But as Wendy hopped along, her weight supported on either side by her larger accompaniment, her mind kept racing. She couldn’t be hurt! Not now... not so close to such a huge match! What if it was broken? Please God please, let the ankle just be...
======================
Tuesday September 18, 2012
Methodist Hospital of Indianapolis
Indianapolis, Indiana
4:12 PM Local Time
“Sprained” Dr. Beverly Quinn firmly announced, looking up from Wendy’s foot.
Wendy breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Ever since Pollaski’d helped her to the car, and driven her to Methodist Hospital, she’d spent the last hour sitting in the waiting room, fretting over her condition. Even now, she could barely move the ankle, which was now so swollen nearly twice its size.
“How can you be sure?” Pollaski demanded. “Don’t you need to do an X-ray or something to be sure?”
Quinn shook her head, clearly annoyed at someone trying to tell her how to do her job. “The Ottawa Test is negative, and that means we don’t even need X-rays. It’s not broken, Mr. Pollaski. That much I’m certain of.”
“Well, that’s great.” Wendy smiled, feeling better than she had been all day. “If it’s just sprained, then I’m good to go for Sin & Sacrifice!”
The look Quinn gave her immediately deflated all the optimism that had just built up in her. “Not necessarily,” the doctor said. “From what I can tell, between the damage from the heel hook, and your fall today, the sprain is pretty severe. You may have ligament tearing, and if its severe enough... then no, you won’t be good to go for anything for a month. At least.”
Wendy’s plea of protest died in her throat, and she looked over helplessly at her manager, who was grimacing, but, didn’t seem all that shocked by the news. “How long until we can know?” he asked.
“We can have you in for an MRI shortly,” Quinn replied, “And the results will be back in about two days.”
“I need to be in this match, doctor,” Wendy said. “I’ve been lobbying to be in it for months, and I can’t let a simple ankle sprain...”
“There’s nothing simple about an ankle sprain, especially a severe one.” Quinn interrupted her. “You obviously reaggrivated it after your last match- you should have come and gotten it checked out with me first. Especially considering this ankle’s been injured before.”
“But that was years ago!” Wendy insisted. Ten to be exact, although she remembered the night like it was yesterday. She’d been placed in an ankle lock, and even after she had tapped out, her opponent had refused to let go until he’d broken it, knocking her out of action for months.
It was the last time someone had made her submit in a match before Serafina had done it, too.
“I know. But that was a severe injury, Wendy, and it nearly ruined your career. Even though it healed, it never was as strong as it was before. The risk of reinjuring was always there.”
Wendy groaned, cupping her hands over her face, and leaning back on the examination table. “I should have tapped out sooner,” she lamented. So much for playing things smart- and she STILL lost the damn match!
Part of her wanted to just ignore the doctor, no matter what. She couldn’t afford to miss this match, no matter what the risks were. Even if she had to CRAWL to the ring, she needed to be in War Games!
But such a course of action would be childish, short-sighted, and foolish, she knew. She wouldn’t be much good to anyone in such a state, and even with so much on the line, it wasn’t worth needlessly ending her career over. Quinn was the best athletic doctor in the state of Indiana, and besides having treated Wendy before, was also the physician of choice for many athletes at IUPUI, and even Indiana University forty miles away, because she knew how to get her patients back in the game at the healthiest they possibly could be. If she said Wendy wasn’t good to go... Wendy had no choice but to believe her.
Quinn was writing on a tablet. “I’m not going to prescribe you anything, but I do recommend taking ibuprofen, to help with the pain and inflammation. Give your ankle plenty of rest, put it in a brace, and keep it iced frequently. When the MRI comes back, and we see just how bad the ligaments are damaged, and know to proceed form there.”
She tore off the paper, and handed to to Wendy. On it, written in decisively un-doctor like neat handwriting, were the instructions she’d been given. Wendy read them over again, sighing.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you better news,” Quinn replied, her voice sympathetic. “I’ll go see if I can get you in for that MRI tonight before you go home.”
“Thanks,” Wendy replied glumly, as the doctor left the room. She looked down at the paper again.
“Well, shit,” Pollaski grumbled, sighing in dismay.
“Tell me about it.” Wendy agreed, taking another deep breath.
All she could do now was hope for the best.
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