Full Impact (7 page)

N

orval watched as Arnie sat on the bench and the medics looked him over. A burly young medic named Phil shined a small flashlight in Arnie's eyes.

“One pupil is more dilated than the other,” Phil reported to another medic. He then held up one finger. “Try to follow my finger with your eye,” Phil said, and he slowly drew a straight line in the air in front of Arnie.

Phil looked his partner and shook his head. “He's not following.”

Next Phil held out two fingers to Arnie. “Grab my fingers as hard as you can,” he said.

Arnie did as he was told.

Again, Phil shook his head. “Weak grip,” he reported to the other medic. “Can you describe to me how you're feeling, Arnie?” Phil asked.

“Sick,” Arnie answered. “And I'm seeing things weird. One minute everything is blurred. Then it's jumpy and flickering. Sometimes I see two of things.”

“Probable traumatic occipital lobe injury. Possibly secondary impact syndrome,” Phil said to the other medic. “Let's bring the ambulance around. Arnie, we're taking you the hospital, okay? They'll need to run some tests on you.”

“What kind of tests?” Norval asked.

“A CAT scan and probably an MRI. They'll want to get a look at his brain.”

“Are your parents in the stands, Arnie?” Coach Green asked.

Arnie didn't reply.

“They don't usually come to the games,” Norval told him.

“Okay. I'll call them,” Coach Green said.

The medics left for a moment. Norval heard the whoop of an ambulance siren as they brought the vehicle to the edge of the field. Then they unloaded a stretcher and strapped Arnie onto it.

“Can I go with him?” Norval asked.

“Are you family?” Phil asked. Norval shook his head. “Then you can't. Sorry.”

“You have a game to finish, Norval,” Coach Green said. “Coach Gannon will follow them to the hospital. He'll stay until Arnie's parents arrive.”

The other players and the cheerleaders gathered as the medics carried Arnie toward the ambulance. “Will he be all right?” Lara asked Norval.

“I don't know,” Norval said. “I hope so.”

N

orval's feet crossed the goal line, and the crowd went wild. He'd scored the winning touchdown. The Titans were headed to the semifinals!

Despite the crowd's cheers, Norval found it hard to feel happy. He blamed himself for not speaking to Coach Green sooner. Arnie was in the hospital, and he could have prevented it. Once Coach Green had told Norval what to look for, he'd known almost right away that Arnie was dealing with a concussion.

He noticed that Kadeem wasn't looking too thrilled either, even as their teammates jumped and shouted with joy.

“I feel for the guy,” Kadeem said as the crowd started to scatter. “I'm pretty sure I've had a concussion or two. I've had some of those symptoms. But they always go away.”

“Your brain probably had time to heal,” Norval said.

“Maybe. It was just luck if that's the case. I knew those Miller scouts were watching Arnie. I didn't want to mess up his chances. Since I've always ended up all right, I hoped Arnie would too. It's not fair. Why did I get better, and Arnie just kept getting worse?”

“It could be your position,” Norval said. “The quarterback doesn't get hit as much. Your brain has had time to heal between hits. And Arnie always ran good interference for me.”

Kadeem scowled. “Man, I want to play pro ball, but even that's not worth having my brain scrambled. If I have to sit out the season and let my brain heal, then that's what I have to do, even if it means losing my scholarship. That would suck, though.”

“I know,” Norval agreed.

Kadeem shook his head. “We should have said something. But we didn't.”

Coach Green approached them from the sidelines. “I hope you boys are happy now,” he said.

“Us?” Norval shouted. He could no longer control himself. “We're not the guys in charge! You are. You're the one who made the call.”

“Norval's right,” Kadeem said. “It isn't right to put all that on us.”

“Face it! You wanted the win, so you played Arnie. I hope you're happy!” Norval shouted.

Coach Green's face turned red with anger. “Watch your mouths, or you won't play for the rest of the season. I don't care how good you are.” With that, he turned away.

Norval watched Coach Green go, cursing him under his breath. Then he and Kadeem headed to the locker room in silence.

Once inside, Norval called the hospital. He learned that Arnie was being kept overnight for observation. He could have visitors, though, from six to eight.

“Want to go see him?” Norval asked Kadeem.

“Let's go tomorrow and give the guy time to rest,” Kadeem said.

Norval nodded. He got dressed and met up with his parents, who had come to see the game. “You're not going out with your friends?” his mother asked.

“I wouldn't have any fun,” Norval told her.

T

he following afternoon Norval and Kadeem went over to the hospital. Maritza and Lara were leaving Arnie's room when Norval and Kadeem arrived.

“How is he?” Norval asked.

“Pretty messed up,” Maritza replied.

Arnie's parents and his doctor were at Arnie's bedside, watching as Arnie drew on a pad. Arnie looked up as Norval and Kadeem came in, but he didn't acknowledge them. It was almost as if he didn't know who they were.

Glancing at Arnie's paper, Norval saw that Arnie was drawing clock faces. At least, Norval guessed that they were supposed to be clocks. The one Arnie was working on had the squiggly, irregular shape of an amoeba. Some of the numbers floated inside the clock face. Others were completely outside of it. He had forgotten to draw in the hands of the clock entirely.

The doctor, a petite, dark-haired woman, took the paper from Arnie and showed Arnie's parents. “We'll need to run more neurological tests,” she said quietly. “The MRI later today will give us a better sense of what areas of the brain have been injured.”

“How do we fix this?” Arnie's father asked. His brow was creased with worry. “Lots of rest and rehabilitation,” the doctor said. “I suggest keeping him in a rehabilitation center until he stabilizes. Then he can get help as an outpatient.”

“What kind of help?” Arnie's mother asked.

“He'll work with a physiatrist, someone trained in brain injury recovery. There are exercises that can help the brain recover function after a trauma. The brain can rewire itself. He'll need to be where his brain has the ideal conditions to do so.”

Norval jumped into the conversation. “Will he recover completely?”

“We don't really know,” the doctor replied. “He's young. Young people have a remarkable ability to recover. On the other hand, his youth makes him even more vulnerable when it comes to concussion.”

“Why is that?” Norval asked.

The doctor asked Arnie's parents if they minded Kadeem and Norval being there before she answered any further questions. Arnie's parents said they didn't—the boys were Arnie's friends.

“High school athletes suffer more from the damage of concussion than even college athletes,” the doctor said. “Because high school players are still young, their skulls are thinner. Their nervous systems are not fully developed. High school students are also less likely to know the symptoms of a concussion.”

“How bad is Arnie's concussion?” Kadeem asked.

“Arnie has a severe, grade-three concussion,” the doctor reported. “I imagine that this isn't his first. After a first concussion, second and third concussions are more likely. This young man should not have been playing football.”

“Will he miss a lot of school?” Norval asked.

“He's looking at six to eight months of rehabilitation. We don't want him working too hard on his schoolwork during that time because his brain needs to rest.”

This was bad news. Arnie would not graduate with the rest of them. He looked at Arnie to see how he was taking it.

Arnie just stared blankly. Norval wondered if he even understood what was being said.

Mrs. Johnson approached her son. “Arnie, your friends have come to see you. Aren't you going to say hello?”

“Hey, buddy,” Kadeem said. “You feeling any better?”

“Hey, Arnie. It's me,” Norval added. “How are you?”

Arnie didn't respond.

“He needs to rest,” the doctor told Norval and Kadeem. “You'd better go.”

“He's going to be better, though, right?” Norval asked.

“I hope so,” the doctor answered. “But it's going to take time.”

Kadeem and Norval said good-bye and left the room. They walked down the hospital corridor without talking. “This sucks,” Kadeem said, wiping wetness from his eyes.

All Norval could say was, “Sure does.”

N

orval made an effort to see Arnie at the rehabilitation center at least twice a week. Other teammates went too. It got harder in the last weeks of football season, when Coach Green started keeping the team after practice to go over new plays or to watch footage of other teams in the play-offs. But Norval didn't stop.

Around the time the season ended, Arnie seemed to recognize Norval again, but he was hostile—friendly one minute and then nasty the next.

Norval tried to be understanding, but it wasn't easy. He tried to remember that this was his friend, that Arnie's brain injury was making him so moody.

In early December, Arnie entered rehab. One afternoon in January, Norval came to sit with him in the rehab center's lounge.

He wanted to talk about all the offers their teammates had received, but he knew the subject wasn't guaranteed to boost Arnie's mood. So he told him about the winter dance that had just taken place. The gym had been decorated as an ice pond. Sadie had looked beautiful in a silver spangled dress.

“Norval, would you do me a favor?” Arnie said when Norval was finished. “Don't come here anymore. Okay?”

“Why?” Norval asked.

“It's just… it's not fair that this happened to me. Seeing you all healthy and going off to winter dances, while I have to sit here—”

“Aw, come on, Arnie. That doesn't make sense. I have to talk about something. You never even liked those dances.”

“I don't care if it makes sense. My brain doesn't work anymore. Don't you get that? I'm not supposed to make sense. Besides, you must have better things to do. Why do you care what happens to me?”

“I'm your friend,” Norval said.

“If you were my friend, you would have said something when you saw me acting weird.”

“I did!” Norval replied. “You wouldn't listen to me. You begged me not to tell the coach.”

“If you were really my friend, you would have done something,” Arnie said.

Arnie's words hit Norval hard. Arnie was blaming him for all the things he was blaming himself for.

“Now get out of here!” Arnie shouted. “Go off to prom and graduation. I don't care. I can't stand the sight of your face. I don't need your pity! Get lost.”