I have lived in Bemidji, MN for almost my entire life. I spent hours at the hockey rinks that Bemidji called her own. I guess you could say that the Ice Arena was my home away from home. I loved hockey – it was my first love – and I still dream of her everyday. I will never forget the moment that my final buzzer sounded signaling the end of my hockey career.
It was Saturday, January 26, 2013. My hockey team and I had an away game in Alexandria, MN. The rink was surrounded by fans of the home team. It was like a big mob of red – Alexandria’s school colors – was anticipating our defeat. The Bemidji fans occupied a small section of the stands. It felt so odd to not see my parents sitting alongside the blue and white. I was so used to seeing them by the red line. I couldn’t say I blamed them. I wasn’t the same hockey player as I was the year before as a freshman. After that first concussion, everything changed. I was slower, weaker, and frankly just not as good. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did at that afternoon hockey game in Alexandria.
The first period was underway and I was playing alongside my best friend. We played great together. It was like my stick knew where hers was at. Nothing could stop us. Except for a check from behind. My best friend was hit mid-ice. She didn’t get up. Her head was spinning. I remember thinking one word and one word only – “concussion.”
Knowing my best friend was hurting in the locker room, I couldn’t focus during the second period. I remember one of my coaches told me to get my head in the game right before I stepped out onto the ice. What I didn’t know was that would be the last shift I would ever play. I took what my coach said and went out there like a mad woman. I was flying and after a shift well-done, I was almost to the bench, going in for a line change when I was blindsided by my opponent. A check from behind surprised me while I was going in for a line change. I wasn’t even in the play.
I opened my eyes and saw the ice inches from my face. My helmet broke my fall. I could feel people surrounding me, trying to help me up. I felt so weak and dizzy. And boy, my head hurt.
My coach along with Alexandria’s athletic trainer finally got me over to our bench. As I sat down, I slowly felt everything disappear.
“Katie, you need to keep your eyes open.” My coach pleaded with me as I came to once again.
“I’m so tired,” I answered as the paramedics arrived.
Before I knew what was happening, I felt my helmet being taped down to a hard, plastic board. I was carried out of the hockey rink and brought into an ambulance. My first time in an ambulance and my last hockey game. I didn’t like the picture.
When I got to the hospital, the nurses were quick to the scene. The sterile room made me sick. It was the last place I wanted to be.
I felt scissors cut off my blue away jersey right down the middle. The doctor felt my spine thoroughly, asking if it hurt along the way.
My brain pounded as the doctor said to me, “usually three is the max.”
I didn’t like his answer. I can’t be done. This can’t be my third concussion, I just got back from my second one. The fact of the matter is, that was my last hockey game. My jersey would never be worn by me or anyone else. It now hangs in Buffalo Wild Wings. My blue, number-10 jersey retires up above the front door. Every time I see that jersey of mine, I am reminded of that final buzzer sounding in Alexandria. The thing is, it wasn’t the end of the game, it was the end of my athletic career. Sometimes our buzzers go off before we want them to, but we always have our memories, or so I am told.
