That sucks. “So what advice do you have?”
Her gaze rakes me up and down. “I can tell you are an athletic man. You need exercise. You need to feel worthy. The most dangerous sport in the world is surprising. It is cycling. Then, football and hockey. Basketball and baseball are next. I would tell you to try swimming, but then you might hit your head on the diving board or the bottom of the pool. All sports leave you open to CTE, even going for a jog. You might trip over the sidewalk and bang your head on a fire hydrant or a street sign. Bang. Concussion. Possible traumatic brain injury, or TBI.”
“Shit.”
“Yes, merde. Lots and lots of shit. But we cannot hide in a hole to protect ourselves from getting injured, because all life is a risk. You walk out of the house, and boom, you might die from a piece of the space station that falls from the sky.”
“Unlikely.”
“Anything is possible, Mr. Harlan. Do not joke.”
“Sorry.” This is what I came for. She isn’t treating me with kid gloves like the team doctors.
“You only have three recorded concussions,” Dr. Moreau continues as she glances down at her laptop. “You are not experiencing quick anger. You are not forgetful. Your brain scans are normal. If you were symptomatic, then I would say, no, that you need to heal, but you say you have no headache, no dizziness, so I say okay, fine, take a risk. It is up to you. There’s a baseball saying: you can’t steal second base without taking your foot off first.”
My breath quickens.
Football is worth the risk.
I’m already picturing myself in my uniform and on the field, Jasper passing me the ball.
“But I am not God,” she declares as she points at me. “I do not know what will happen to you in life. So, I can only give facts. The truth is, you suffered a severe concussion, Mr. Harlan. You may have the beginnings of CTE right now, even though you aren’t symptomatic.” She folds her hands in front of herself. “This is the end. Do you have questions?”
My eyes shut briefly. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
She frowns. “No, no, don’t be relieved. Be wary. Be afraid. I do not know the future, Mr. Harlan. That is the entire point. As a doctor, I must warn you about playing this sport. I cannot see the inside of your brain. I wish I could, so I could give you a definitive answer, but it is impossible. Your next tackle might be the end.”
“Yes, I got all of that, I did, but the odds are in my favor. I’ve only had a few concussions in my life.”
“Jonah had none on his record, Mr. Harlan, and he had CTE.”
Sure, but she’s being cautious. Most doctors who aren’t affiliated with sports will always warn you against playing.
She sighs. “Life is a game of chance. Some win, some lose. I hope you win. Anyway, I promise not to bet against you next time.”
My smile is lopsided. “Right, thanks for that. Actually, if you have some time, I do have some other questions for you . . .”
She nods and motions for me to sit again.
After we get settled, I take a deep breath, hoping she doesn’t think I’m imagining what happened to me. “When I was on the field and I was . . . dead . . . something happened. It wasn’t like a light at the end of a tunnel or some kind of religious experience like you see in the movies. It was strange and weird. I’m not into any kind of psychic stuff or woo-woo science or whatever you want to call this, but . . .”
“Interesting. What was it?”
“Visions, like I was on acid. I saw my brother, my parents, a girl I used to date, but the rest of it, the part that eludes me, or comes in dreams, I don’t know, was different, almost peaceful, like another possible life I could have had. The images are hazy, and if I concentrate hard enough, I might be able to see them, but I can’t.”
“Ah, very odd. Was there a feeling associated with it? Did you think it was heaven?” She gives me a smirk. “Hell?”
“No, nothing like that, but it made me want to wake up, like I had to come back because there was someone waiting for me . . .” I sigh. “I can’t explain it. My question is: Is it normal to see things when you’re clinically dead?”
She slides down her glasses and peers at me. “I do not talk to many people who have died. You are special like this. Gold star.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“This is not my field of study, but in my opinion, it is possible it was your brain gasping, much like a computer shutting down, but instead of going black, it flashes with images from your life. We refer to this phenomenon as NDEs, or near-death experiences. People who experience them often say they see scenes from their childhood, even going all the way back to being in the womb, but again, it is hard to study because there are few people who this happens to, and it is also hard to believe people. Most of us want to discount this because it seems impossible. But I do not know. What you have in common with these people is two things: it usually happens after head trauma or cardiac arrest, and they usually occur in cases where emergency medical help is required to survive.”