in the chest.
I wouldn’t be the first player getting treated for anxiety.
It wouldn’t spell the end of my hockey career.
And…there was treatment? I didn’t have to live like this?
I blew out a breath. “Who do I call?”
Coach smiled and reached into his desk drawer. “Here’s a list of approved psychologists and psychiatrists in this area.” He handed me a stapled list someone had printed off the computer. “And this is some information Williams wanted you to look at. About anxiety and panic attacks.” He added a stack of pamphlets.
I gave them a cursory glance, but tucked them under the list of numbers. I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “Okay. Okay, great. I’ll look through it as soon as I leave. But… I can still play hockey, right? Even while I’m figuring out…” I gestured with the list and pamphlets.
Coach nodded. “I still want you to take off the next four games, and then let Williams look you over and double check your heart and everything are good before you play. Just a precaution.”
I nodded and didn’t crack any jokes about covering anyone’s ass. “Okay. Sure. Sounds good.”
“Let us know if you need anything.” His brow pinched, and he reminded me of my dad right then. “Don’t try to weather this on your own, okay? You’re part of a team. You need help, ask for it.”
A lump was rising in my throat, so I just nodded and managed, “Thanks, Coach.”
He dismissed me, and when I was alone in the hallway, I looked down at everything he’d given me. Heart thumping, I thumbed through the pamphlets.
Chronic Anxiety: Coping Methods & Pharmaceutical Treatments.
Why is everything a crisis? Anxiety & Daily Life.
Is this just stress, or is it anxiety?
One definitely caught my attention:
Panic Attacks: What they are and what you can do.
With more than a little trepidation, I opened that last one and skimmed to the part that listed what a panic attack felt like.
Feeling like you’ve lost control or you’re going crazy. Certain you’re dying. Racing heart. Sweating. Detachment from reality and/or from yourself. Shaking. Tingling. Chest pain. Nausea. Choking. Dizziness. Can’t breathe. Feeling excessively hot or cold.
Whoa. That was… That was exactly what it was like. Not just when my teammates had had to call the paramedics, but whenever Maddox and Kuznetsov talked me down. That was a panic attack?
Holy shit. Coach and Doc Williams were right.
Which meant there was a name for this. There was treatment for it.
Oh my God.
I hadn’t even picked up the phone to call a professional, and I didn’t have a clue what kinds of treatments were available, but just realizing there were treatments kind of made me want to cry with relief. God knew if any of that shit would work, but it was real, and maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t have to live like this forever.
Holy fuck.
I wouldn’t have to live like this forever.
And maybe…
I swallowed hard, struggling against that lump which was absolutely not moving.
I wanted to call Devin right now. I wanted to see him, tell him I was sorry, and ask him to take me back. But that train wreck I’d been last night? That was still me. And good God, he deserved better than that. The man had enough on his plate; I couldn’t ask him to saddle himself with me when I was so fucked up that I’d probably have another damn panic attack before I finished asking him to take me back.
I wanted to call him, but…not yet. I needed to get my head together first.
Maybe if I got some treatment, I could cope with things. Maybe I could handle the stress of everyday life. Maybe if I talked to someone, got some answers, made a plan, found some hope…
Maybe it won’t be too late to be who Devin needs.
Chapter 34
Devin
The concession vendors have some proposed menus. I’ve attached them for you to review. Let me know what you think.
Richard
I exhaled and closed the email app on my phone. I was pleased that the ball was well and truly rolling for the low stim hockey nights, but every email or text message from Richard made my chest hurt. It had been almost a week since I’d left Jase’s condo, and I still felt like shit. Anything related to hockey was like an extra kick to the balls.
But I couldn’t wallow in my feelings or dwell on how much it hurt to think about hockey right now. I had Dallas this week, and after I’d picked her up from school, we’d