not freeze.
The combination of inactivity and pain made her cranky on most days, and fighting off what felt like a losing battle with depression on other days. She yearned to be back on the ice so much that her mother began to drive her to the local rink in Iowa City where Kerri learned to skate. It was only for a few hours twice a week, and she went when a group of children learning how to skate met with their figure skating school instructor. Kerri knew the woman and offered to help. As much as she could with her limited movements on the bench, Kerri worked with the young skaters on improving their form by giving them gentle instructions. Her times with the children helped see her through the darker times of her recovery.
The current skating season was in full swing. It was the first season Kerri had missed in her seven years on the women's world tour and in her three years in the juniors. She was now twenty three, would be twenty-four on President's Day in February, a month and a half from now, and had the rest of the year to heal up and get ready to compete. The first competition was in Omaha in eight months. She would make it there and all the way to the Olympics. She had one more Olympics left in her. Kerri could feel it even if nearly everyone in the sport was telling her to retire, that it was over. But she did not want to leave yet, to be forced to retire due to an injury, because she still wanted the one medal that had eluded her thus far. The Olympic gold, the medal of all medals, was still missing from her awards cabinet at home.
She would heal up. She would come back and show everyone that she had what it took to go out on her terms as an Olympic champion. Gritting her teeth, she put her weight on her knee and pulled herself up determined to make it to the top of the four step platform.
"Good, Kerri. Now come down the other side and lead with your right."
Kerri did what she was told by Karen, her physical therapist, and walked down the four steps before hobbling over to a nearby chair. Her forehead was wet with sweat, and she wiped the sleeve of her Iowa Hawkeye's sweatshirt across her forehead.
"That was good, Kerri. I'm impressed with how far you've come even with the brace. On a scale of one to ten, can you tell me your pain level now that you've done a few exercises? Kerri said "five" even though it felt like much worse. Once she got home, she would ice her knee and take some pain killers then elevate her leg again. Kerri looked over at Karen who was busy scribbling down notes in Kerri's file. Then, after telling Kerri to wait, the therapist left for a few minutes and returned carrying several sheets of paper with photographs depicting different exercises.
"Now, I want you to do these four that we did today plus the others at least twice a day. Ice when you get home and after your exercises. I don't want you trying the stairs at home unless you have someone there with you. You see the orthopedist again on Friday, right?"
"Yes."
"I'll have my notes to him by then. Now I want you back here on Thursday. Ok? Bring your swimming suit. We will start in the pool."
Kerri picked up her crutches, using them and her left leg to pull herself out of the chair. Taking the sheets of paper in her hand, she folded them up and shoved them into the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Then she walked beside the therapist to the front desk to schedule her appointments for the next week. Kerri's mother was waiting for her in the busy waiting room and rose when Kerri walked in with her new appointment card wrapped around the bar of her crutch with her hand over it.
"How did it go?" her mother asked calmly when Kerri walked up. Nothing ever fazed her mother, Kerri thought. With four brothers in hockey and her in competitive figure skating, Kerri's mother had seen her fair share of injuries and played chauffeur and nursemaid too many times to count.
"Good. I think it went well. Let's go home."
They walked over to the spinning door that made up the entrance to the medical building that housed